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Title: Harper's Round Table, March 3, 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 3, 1896" ***

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[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

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

       *       *       *       *       *

PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 17, 1896. FIVE CENTS A COPY.

VOL. XVII.--NO. 855. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

       *       *       *       *       *



[Illustration]



A BOY OF 1775.

BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.


Can you not see the boy of 1775 now--his sturdy legs encased in stout
black stockings, german-silver buckles to his knee-breeches, his hair
plaited and tied with a smart black ribbon, and all this magnificence
topped by three real silver buttons with which his hat is rakishly
cocked? But the boy himself is better worth looking at than all his
finery--so thought Captain Moore, of his Majesty's ship _Margaretta_,
lying at anchor in the harbor of Machias. Jack Leverett was the boy's
name--a handsome stripling of sixteen, with a quiet manner but a
fearless eye.

The two were sitting opposite each other at the cabin table, and through
the open port they could see the village and the harbor, bathed in the
bright white light of a day in May. The Captain was conscious that this
young guest was decidedly in a hurry to leave. A whole hour had they sat
at the dinner table, Captain Moore, with the utmost art, trying to find
out Jack's errand to Machias--for those were the stirring days when
every American had to take his stand for or against King George--and
Captain Moore particularly desired to know how Squire Leverett, Jack's
father, stood toward the King. But Jack, with native mother-wit, had
managed to baffle the Captain. He had readily admitted that he was the
bearer of a letter from his father to Jerry O'Brien, master of Squire
Leverett's sloop _Priscilla_, in regard to heaving down the sloop. But
the Captain, with a seaman's eye, had noted that the _Priscilla_ was in
perfect order and did not need to be hove down, and he more than
suspected that Jack was the bearer of other and more important news.
Through the cabin windows they could see the sloop, a beautiful craft,
being warped into her dock, while across the blue water was wafted
sweetly the voices of the men, led by the shanty man,[1] singing the old
shanty song:

  "Haul the bowline, our jolly ship's a-rolling,
    Haul the bowline, the bowline _haul_!
  Haul the bowline, our jolly mate's a-growling,
    Haul the bowline, the bowline _haul_!"

[1] "Shanty man"--from "Chantez"--a man who could lead the singing while
the men worked. A good shanty man was considered to be a valuable
acquisition to a vessel.

As soon as Jack decently could, he started to rise from the table.
Captain Moore had observed that the glass of wine at Jack's plate
remained untasted, and it suggested a means of finding out whether the
Leveretts meant to go with the King or not.

"Do not go," he said, "until you have joined me in drinking the health
of his Majesty King George."

Jack had no notion whatever of drinking the King's health, but he was at
his wits' end how to avoid it. Just then, though, the Captain turned to
speak to his orderly, and Jack took the opportunity of gulping down his
wine with more haste than elegance. Captain Moore, seeing it, was
surprised and disgusted at the boy's apparent greediness for wine, but
raising his glass, said, "To the King."

"Excuse me, sir," answered Jack, coolly, "but my father never allows me
to drink but one glass of wine, and that I have already had."

"Then I will drink the toast alone," said Captain Moore, with a stern
look at the boy. "Here is to his Majesty King George. Health and long
life to him! God save the King!"

As Captain Moore uttered this sentiment Jack rose and promptly put on
his hat. The Captain was quite sure that the boy's action, like his
gulping down the wine, meant a distaste for the King, and not a want of
breeding. But he thought it best not to notice the incident, and said,
civilly, to his young guest:

"Present my compliments to your honored father, and tell him that his
Majesty's officers have the kindest feelings toward these misguided
people; and while if attacked we will certainly defend ourselves, we
have strict orders to avoid a conflict if possible, and not to fire
until fired upon."

"I will remember your message, sir," was Jack's answer; and the Captain,
having no further excuse for detaining his young guest, allowed him to
depart.

He was soon alongside of the _Priscilla_, and there, standing at the
gangway, was the sloop's master, Jerry O'Brien. Jerry, by an accident of
fate, had inherited an Irish name, but he was as arrant a Yankee as ever
stepped. He was a handsome fellow withal, and in his natty blue suit
much more resembled the Captain of an armed cruiser than the master of a
smart merchant vessel. The _Priscilla_, too, was a wonderful contrast to
the slovenly merchantmen around her. She was as clean as hands could
make her, and her beautiful lines were brought out by the shining coat
of black paint upon her hull. Her men were smart and seamanlike. Jerry
O'Brien was the most exacting ship-master on that coast, but he never
had any trouble in shipping men, for, while making them do their work
with the quickness and steadiness of man-o'-war's men, he used neither
blows nor curses. A natural leader of men, he made himself respected
first, and after that it is always easy to command obedience.

As soon as Jack Leverett came over the side Jerry took him to the cabin.
Jack produced a letter, and by the heat from a ship's lantern some
writing in lemon juice was deciphered. It contained a full account of
the affairs at Lexington and Concord, of which only vague rumors had
reached Machias. At every sentence descriptive of American valor Jerry
would give a half-suppressed whoop, and at the end he could not forbear
letting out a huzza that made the little cabin ring.

"Suppose," said Jack, who had hard work to keep from hurrahing wildly,
"instead of making a noise, we should invent a scheme to capture the
_Margaretta_. If the farmers around Boston could, with hay-forks and
blunderbusses, beat off the British regulars, the sailors and fishermen
about here ought to be able to get alongside the _Margaretta_ and take
her."

Jerry's mouth was large, and it came open like a rat-trap at this bold
proposition. After a pause he spoke. "Boy," said he, "the enterprise
shall be tried; and if we succeed, you shall be prize-master of the
_Margaretta_."

Jack's heart leaped at these words. He was an admirable sailor, like
most of the hardy youngsters on the coast, and had more than once taken
the _Priscilla_ on short trips. But his mother and the Squire meant him
to be something else than a merchant Captain, and kept him under a tutor
when he would much rather have been sailing blue water. For hours Jack
and Jerry sat in the cabin talking over their scheme. Jerry knew that
the people of Machias were heart and soul with the cause of freedom, and
could be depended upon in any desperate adventure. The _Margaretta_
carried four brass guns and a number of swivels; but, as Jerry shrewdly
said, if once the _Priscilla_ could grapple with her, it would be a
battle of men and musketry, not of guns. At nightfall Jack and Jerry
went ashore. A great vivid moon hung in the sky, and they could see the
_Margaretta_ almost as well as in daylight. She was a handsome vessel,
schooner rigged, and in a state of preparation that showed Captain Moore
did not mean to be caught napping. All her boats were hoisted in, her
anchors had springs on them, and her sails were merely clewed up,
instead of being furled.

"There you are, my beauty," said Jerry. "It's a shame, so it is, that
King George's ensign should fly from your peak. You deserve an American
flag, and we'll try and give it you."

All that night they spent going from house to house of the men who had
the patriotism to enlist with them, and by daylight they had the promise
of twenty-five resolute men who, at a signal of three cheers given from
the _Priscilla_, would at once board her and put themselves under Jerry
O'Brien's command.

All this commotion on shore had not escaped Captain Moore's lookouts
during the night, and although the Captain would much have preferred
staying and fighting it out, his orders compelled him to cut and run if
signs of an outbreak were visible. The British government then earnestly
wished to conciliate the colonists, and by no means to come to blows.

The next morning was Sunday, and as beautifully clear and bright as the
day before. In order to avoid the appearance of fear, Captain Moore
determined, with his officers, to go to church as usual. As the
Captain's gig landed the officers, Jerry O'Brien and Jack Leverett, with
the six men who composed the _Priscilla_'s crew, were all on deck,
keeping a sharp eye on the _Margaretta_ and her boat.

"What say you, men," suddenly asked Jerry, "to bagging those officers in
church?"

"We say yes," answered every man at once. In a few minutes, with Jerry
and Jack in the lead, and all well armed, they took the road toward the
church. As they neared it they heard the faint sweet echo of a hymn that
floated out on the spring air--the only sound that broke the heavenly
stillness.

Jerry silently posted his men at the entrance, and then opening the door
softly, raised his horse-pistol and levelled it straight at Captain
Moore, who sat in the last pew.

The British Captain happened to turn his head at that instant. The
congregation was too absorbed in the singing to notice what was going
on. Jerry nodded at the Captain, as much as to say, "You are my
prisoner." The Captain coolly shook his head, as if to answer, "Not
quite, my fine fellow," and the next moment he made a sudden dash for
the open window, followed by all of his officers, and before Jerry could
realize that the birds had flown, they had run half-way to the shore. In
vain Jerry and Jack and their followers pursued. The officers had too
long a lead, and by the time the Americans reached the shore the
Captain's gig was being pulled rapidly to the ship. As soon as the boat
reached it the anchors were picked up, every sail that would draw was
shaken out, and the cruiser made for the offing. As soon as she was well
under way she sent a shot of defiance screaming over the town, and was
answered by three thundering American cheers from the _Priscilla_. As if
by magic the sloop's deck was alive with armed men, and with a quickness
equal to the cruiser's, her mainsail was up, and she was winging her way
in pursuit of her enemy.

Well had the _Priscilla_ been called the fastest sloop in all that
region. The wind was dead ahead, and both vessels had to get out of the
river on "a long leg and a short one." The _Margaretta_ was handled in a
seamanlike manner, but on every tack the _Priscilla_ gained, and showed
that she was a better sailer both on and off the wind. In an hour they
were within hailing distance, and the men on the _Margaretta_ were
called to quarters by the tap of the drum. Her guns were run out, their
tompions withdrawn, and the cruiser showed herself to be an ugly
customer to tackle. But this did not intimidate the Americans, who were
closing on her fast.

A hail came from the _Margaretta_, "What are you following us for?"

"To learn how to tack ship!" responded Jerry O'Brien, who had taken the
wheel himself. This reply caused a roar of laughter from the Americans,
as the _Priscilla_ could come about in half the time of the
_Margaretta_.

"Keep off or I'll fire!" was the next hail.

"Fire away, gentlemen," bawled Jerry, "and light your matches with your
orders not to fire first!"

At this the gallant British tars groaned loudly, and Captain Moore,
drawing his sword and shaking it at the rapidly advancing sloop,
shouted:

"Orders or no orders, I will fire one round if I lose my commission for
it. Blow your matches, boys!"

The guns were already manned, and at the word there was a flash of
light, a puff of smoke, and a round shot came hissing and shrieking
across the water and struck the _Priscilla_'s mainmast fairly in the
middle, splintering it. The sloop staggered under the blow, and in a
minute or two the mast went by the board with a crash.

A great cheer broke from the _Margaretta_'s men at that.

"Never mind," cried Jerry. "This is not the first mast that was ever
carried away, and we have spare spars and carpenters too. Wait for us in
Holmes Bay, and we will fight it out yard-arm to yard-arm before
sundown."

The _Margaretta_, with her men cheering and jeering, sailed away toward
the open sea. The _Priscilla_ being the best-found sloop in New England,
in a little while the stump of the mast was cleared away, a lighter
spar, but still good enough, was fitted, and she made sail on it.

As she neared the ocean the wind freshened every moment, and although
the sun shone brilliantly, a heavy sea was kicked up. Soon they sighted
the _Margaretta_, with her topsail backed, and gallantly waiting for her
enemy.

In all this time Jack Leverett showed a steadiness and coolness beyond
his years. Once Jerry O'Brien said to him,

"Youngster, if you flinch, depend upon it, your father shall know it."

"All right," answered Jack; "and if I don't flinch I want my mother to
know it."

The two vessels now neared each other on opposite tacks. Captain Moore
manoeuvred to get into a raking position before delivering his fire,
but the _Priscilla_, by skilful yawing and by the roughness of the sea,
proved to be as difficult to hit as if she had been a cork bobbing up
and down. In vain they played their two starboard guns and all their
swivels on her; their shot rarely struck, and when it struck, did small
damage.

Not so with the Americans. Without a single cannon, they poured forth a
musketry fire at close quarters that did fearful work and made hot the
_Margaretta_'s decks. The brave British sailors stood manfully to their
guns, but the Americans were gradually edging up, and their fire grew
more deadly every moment. The _Margaretta_ tried to sheer off, but the
_Priscilla_, closing up, got her jibboom entangled in her adversary's
main rigging, and a dozen Americans sprang forward to make the two ships
fast.

As the vessels came grinding together Jerry O'Brien, leaping on the
taffrail, shouted, "I will be the first man to board--and follow me!"

But Jerry was mistaken. He was suddenly seized by the coat tails, jerked
backwards, and fell sprawling upon the deck, and the next instant Jack
Leverett sprang over him, and was first upon the _Margaretta_'s deck.

"Drat the boy!" was Jerry's involuntary exclamation as he scrambled to
his feet.

The Americans poured over the side, and met with a warm reception.
Captain Moore, surrounded by his officers, retreated to the fo'c's'le,
fighting every step of the way. At last Jerry O'Brien came face to face
with him. The Captain defended himself with his sword, but it was
knocked out of his hand by Jerry with a pistol butt. They clinched and
fell to the deck fighting. The struggle was sharp but short, and in
fifteen minutes from the time the Americans had lashed the ships
together the Captain was overpowered, nearly every officer had been cut
down, and the cruiser was in the hands of the Americans. There had been
much cheering on the _Priscilla_ that day, but when the British ensign
was hauled down, and Jerry, in default of a national flag, hoisted his
own jacket at the mast-head, there were three cheers given that could
almost be heard at Machias.

The prisoners were quickly transferred to the _Priscilla_, and as Jerry
O'Brien required all of his best men on board, he could only spare a few
landsmen for a prize crew on the _Margaretta_.

"But I will give her a prize master who, although not very old, can sail
a schooner or any other craft--John Leverett, there," said Jerry. "And
he will take her in, you may be sure."

Oh, how Jack's heart beat with delight at these words!

Soon they were heading up the river, and when, under a fair wind, they
made a quick run to Machias, the May moon made the heavens glorious.
Jack Leverett thought the happiest moment of his life had come when they
cast anchor amid the thunder of cheers from the people assembled along
the shores.

But there was a happier moment yet in store for him. A week afterward
Jack and Jerry O'Brien entered Squire Leverett's study, where sat the
Squire and Madam Leverett. The mother uttered a cry of joy and clasped
her boy in her arms. Then Jerry O'Brien, taking him by the hand, led him
to the Squire.

"Sir," he said, "here is your brave boy. You have reason to be proud of
him. I have been promised two things when the navy of the Colonies is
formed. One is a Captain's commission for myself, and the other is a
midshipman's commission for this lad. He is born for the sea, and to
make a landsman of him would be like putting a mackerel in a barnyard to
scratch for his living."

The Squire, too moved to speak, silently took one of Jack's hands in
both of his, and Madam Leverett, falling on her boy's neck, cried, "How
happy am I to have such a boy to give to my country!"

       *       *       *       *       *

GRANT'S TROUBLESOME SOLDIER.

General Grant used to tell a story of a soldier in a certain regiment
during the war who was continually bothering him by asking favors. Grant
one day said to him, "Look here; I believe you are the most troublesome
man in the Union army."

The man quickly replied, "Why, that's funny, sir!"

"Funny; how do you make it out funny?"

"Because it is just what the enemy says about you."



[Illustration: From Chum to Chum.]

BY GASTON V. DRAKE.

VII.--FROM BOB TO JACK.


  LONDON.

[Illustration]

DEAR JACK,--When I left off my letter to you last night it was nearly
ten o'clock, but almost broad daylight. What do you think of that? It's
the queerest thing you ever saw. The clock and the sun don't seem to gee
over here at all. You can read after nine o'clock without any gas-light
at all. Pop says it's a special British arrangement, because London is
such an interesting place and so many people can only stay a few days
that they like to keep it lit up as long as they can. I'd heard before
that the sun never sat on the British Empire but I never knew it was so
long about setting in England. The hall-porter on our floor says it
makes up for it in winter though by rising about midday and setting ten
minutes later. If that's so how it must whiz across the sky. I'd rather
like to see it then. He says too that last winter they had a fog so
thick that people had to dig their way through it with spades, and he
told another boy that it was a regular business in winter for boys and
men who couldn't get other work to do to go about the city and shovel
the fog off the front door steps and walks just as snow-shovellers do in
New York. It must be fun living here then.

[Illustration]

We didn't get into London until about seven o'clock Wednesday night, but
it was fine travelling coming up from Southampton. You'd have thought
the cars had rubber bicycle tyres on their wheels--see that word
tyres?--that's English for tires--I saw it on a sign. They rode along
just as smoothly as a bicycle would on a tar pavement, and go--Jerusalem
how they did go! That little toy engine I told you about once she got
started just leaped over the ground. You'd almost think you were
travelling on a streak of lightning and _in a packing box_. That's all
the cars are, just little packing boxes petitioned off into stalls
running from side to side. You get into one of these stalls and the
guard--they call brakemen guards over here--the guard locks you in and
off you go. It isn't a bit like travelling in America, and I don't know
as I like it quite as much as the American cars with Isles down the
middle of 'em because the broken mixed candy and banana boys can't walk
through and sell you things! haven't seen a broken mixed candy and
banana boy over here and it's all because their cars haven't any Isles.
There aren't any comic paper boys either but I guess that's a good
thing. Pop bought a copy of one of the English comic papers and he
nearly ruined his eyes trying to see the jokes, their points were so
awful fine.

[Illustration]

It took us about four hours to get here and two to find our baggage
after we got here because the porters had put some of it with the B
baggage and Aunt Sarah's trunk had wandered off among the C's. The
station was crowded with hacks and omnibuses and people and almost every
hack was engaged. Finally Pop managed to get a cab they called a
four-wheeler. It looked scarcely big enough for two but as we got into
it it sort of stretched and by the time the driver had us packed in we
had seven people in it, Pop, Mamma, Aunt Sarah, the two children, the
nurse and me. How we ever managed it I don't know, but we did, and then
instead of sending the baggage to the hotel by an express-wagon the
cabman put it all on top of the cab, two Saratoga trunks, three steamer
trunks, a bath-tub, four bundles of rugs, two hat-boxes, three
dress-suit cases and the hamper--and all for one horse! I didn't believe
the horse could move us, but the minute the driver chirruped to him off
he started like a regular race-horse and I tell you it was exciting.
There we seven people were, cooped up inside with all those trunks piled
up on the little bit of a roof right over our heads being galloped
around corners as if we were playing snap-the-whip, darting in and out
between policemen, lamp-posts and omnibuses. Mamma and Aunt Sarah were
scared to death. They weren't afraid we'd tip over but they had half a
notion that the roof might cave in and let all that baggage down on us;
and I think Pop felt uneasy too because he tried several times to tell
the driver to go slow, but he couldn't because he was wedged in so
tight.

[Illustration]

It wasn't possible to see much, we went so fast, but we did catch a
glimpse of a fearfully dirty river as we crossed it and Pop said he
guessed it was the Thames and it turned out to be so later on, and the
bridge we were on led right up to the houses of Pollyment, I think
they're called and I tell you they're beautiful. They look good enough
to put on a mantel piece. Two minutes later we got here and Pop managed
to pull us out of the carriage and get the baggage taken into a hotel by
a man who was dressed up as gorgissly as a drum major, and all that cab
cost was three dollars! Pop says he couldn't have got off for less than
ten in New York and the driver cheated him into the bargain!

When he paid the cabby Pop told him he'd driven too fast and the man
said he hadn't at all. "Aren't you afraid you'll run into somebody?"
asked Pop. "No," said the man, "I'm afraid somebody'll run into me."
Which is why he tore so to keep out of the way of the cabs behind him.

I can't say I think much of the hotels here. They're very handsome to
look at, but its hard work getting anything at 'em. The people here
behaved so that Pop thought we'd been landed at Buckingham Palace by
mistake, and asked if he might see the Queen and apologize for
intruding, but the man never laughed a bit; just turned away tired. We
got our rooms finally though and there isn't a bed in one of 'em without
a canopy over it and all the wash-stands have bottles of patent
tooth-powders on 'em with signs saying if you open this bottle it'll
cost you a shilling. I opened two of 'em before I saw the sign and Pop
says I'm out fifty cents for my curiosity, but I don't mind. It'll go on
the bill and he'll pay it.

We're off now to see the Tower of London. The next time I write I'll
tell you all about it. I wish Sandboys was here. It would do these
English hall-boys good to see how Sandboys does his work. It would take
one of them English boys a year to carry up as much ice-water as
Sandboys does in a night, but then they've got as much work as they can
do looking after their buttons. I should think it would be a day's work
buttoning up a hall-boy's coat over here. Ours has sixty between his
chin and his waist.

  Yours ever
  BOB.



THE VOYAGE OF HIRAM AND DAVE.

BY A. J. ENSIGN.


George Whittingham was staring at a Billingsgate fish-woman. She was
glaring at George, and treating him to some of that wonderfully abusive
language known to all Englishmen as "Billingsgate." George was just
about to repeat the expedient of a noted English wit, and call her a
"miserable isosceles triangle, a beastly rectangular parallelopipedon,"
when some one pulled his coat sleeve and said,

"Mr. George, let 'er alone; she can beat you at that every time."

George whirled around at the sound of a familiar voice, and exclaimed:
"Hiram Wardell! Well, what on earth are you doing in London?"

"Tryin' to find out how to get home, Mr. George. Me and Dave Hulick here
ain't in London on a tour, I can tell you, and we don't want to stay
here either."

"Then it's lucky for you that my father is in the consular service here.
I guess he can help you two boys. But, say, this is a funny case, isn't
it? Only a year ago you fellows were taking me out fishing off Joppa,
and now--How did you get here, anyhow?"

"Well, Mr. George, this ain't a very good place for story-telling. Can't
we go where it's quiet?"

"You two boys come to my father's office with me," said George, "and
then you can tell him and me the story at the same time. I think that
will be the best way to manage it."

So the well-dressed young gentleman, accompanied by the two rude-looking
New Jersey "beach-combers," set off through the jostling, bustling
London crowds toward Mr. Whittingham's office in Cheapside. George's
father was at his desk, and expressed his readiness to listen to the
story of the two boys, whom he was surprised to see in London. Hiram
Wardell, when bidden to go on with his narrative, hung his head and
twisted his cap nervously in his long red fingers.

"Go on, Hi," said his companion; "ye got to tell it, an' ye might as
well start an' git through."

Hiram straightened himself up with a jerk, ran the red fingers through
his shock of dust-brown hair, and began: "Well, sir, I s'pose we two
boys is a pair o' fools, an' that's the truth. But we'll know better
nex' time. You see, it ain't very much of a country down there on the
Jersey coast, except in the summer, when the city people is there, an'
then what is it? Only drivin' a hack, or takin' a gentleman out fishin',
or somethin' o' that sort. So Dave an' I this spring got mighty tired o'
the whole business, an' we made up our minds that we'd got to git out.
So one day we was a-settin' on the beach talkin' about it, an' Dave he
says to me to look at a schooner wot was goin' down to the south'ard.
An' he says to me, wot was the matter with goin' to New York an'
shippin' on one o' them schooners an' goin' to the West Injies, or
Savannah, or Halifax, or some sich place? Right off it seemed to me that
was about the finest scheme I'd ever heard of. But we didn't have much
money betwixt--only sixty-four cents--an' the question were how to git
to New York. First off, Dave thought it would be the best way for him to
take the money an' go to York, an' when he'd earned enough to send for
me. But I was mistrustful o' bein' left behind an' seein' Dave wave his
hat at me some day from the deck o' one o' them schooners goin' South."

Mr. Whittingham lay back in his chair and shook with laughter, while
Dave Hulick looked at Hiram with a countenance full of solemn reproach.

"Well, you know you'd 'a' done it, Dave," said Hiram, as he continued
with his story. "After talkin' the thing over for a good while, I
proposed that we pervision Dave's father's smallest fishin' skiff with
them sixty-four cents an' sail for York. Dave he said it weren't fair
for him to furnish twenty-eight cents an' the boat, an' me only
thirty-six cents. But I told him the boat didn't cost him nothin', an'
he had to allow that I was tellin' the truth; so he agreed to my plan. I
ain't a-goin' to stop to tell you all the botheration we had a-gettin'
them pervisions an' gettin' 'em stored ready for shippin'. Land sakes!
Folks was so mighty curious that I 'most lost my wits inventin' answers
for all their questions."

"All about sixty-four cents' worth of provisions?" inquired Mr.
Whittingham, who could not conceal his amusement.

"Jest that, sir, an' nothin' else," replied Hiram, gravely. "Well, at
last everything was all ready, an' bright an' 'arly one fine mornin' we
slipped out an' down to the beach. Of course it wasn't no great shakes
of a matter for us two boys to launch the boat an' get out through the
surf. Mr. George he knows that, 'cause he's often gone out with us.
Well, when we got out there wasn't enough wind to sail, the ocean bein'
as smooth as one o' the plate-glass winders in Bill Smock's drug-store.
So we had to get to work an' row. There was other boats goin' out, an'
my sakes alive! what a lot of questions we had to answer! Seems to me
there wasn't any reason for 'em, either, 'cause we boys often went out
fishin'. But anyhow we pulled along till we got well to the north'ard o'
Joppa an' out o' reach o' questions, an' then Dave he struck work.
'Blowed if I'm goin' to row all the way to York,' says he. Didn't you,
Dave?"

"That's wot I said," was Dave's laconic answer.

"We set the mast an' sail, an' let her drift. It was a putty middlin'
hot day, an' along in the early afternoon, when we hadn't got more'n
five or six miles to the north'ard, I reckon both of us fell asleep. I
don't know how long we was asleep, but I know what woke us up. The
blamed boat turned turtle."

"What--upset?" exclaimed Mr. Whittingham.

[Illustration: "THEN I GOT OUT MY BIG RED HANDKERCHER AND WAVED IT."]

"Yes, sir, upset. You see, there was a kind of a squall, an' we, bein'
asleep, didn't get no notice of't till we was in the water. Well, I
climbed up on to the bottom o' the boat, an' Dave he hung on to me an'
grumbled. 'Nice sort o' doin's,' says Dave; 'there's that sixty-four
cents' worth o' good grub gone to feed the fish.' An' then I says to
Dave to shut up his all-fired nonsense, and be glad that we wasn't gone
along with the grub. Then I got out my big red handkercher an' waved it.
There was a small coastin' schooner ratchin' along not more'n a mile
away. The squall had died down to a good breeze, an' she was a hustlin'.
She didn't see us, though. Well, sir, we hung on to the bottom o' that
there boat till putty nigh sundown, an' all the time we was a-driftin'
further an' further out to sea. About then this here Dave he woke up an'
says, 'Here comes a big wessel right at us.' Sure enough, there was a
full-rigged ship what had just cast off her tug an' was a-makin' sail.
She was a-headin' so's to come within a hundred yards of us. So I got
the handkercher out again an' waved it, and when she got putty near we
both yelled. The ship hove to an' lowered a boat, an' in a few minutes
we was aboard o' her. We told the skipper our story an' he laffed. He
wasn't putty when he laffed, either, because his teeth was all out in
front an' his nose was broke. 'So you was bound to New York, was you?'
says he. 'Well, now you're bound to London.' I didn't want to go to
London, but this here Dave--he don't know much, sir--he said he'd jest
as leave go to London on a ship as the West Injies on a schooner. So to
make the story short, sir, we two lunatics--'cause that's ezackly what
we was--shipped on to that there wessel as green hands."

Hiram paused a moment, overcome by the flood of his melancholy
recollections.

"I hope, sir," he continued, gravely, "that you was never a green hand
on a ship. A green hand don't know how to do nothin', an' one o' the
mates tells him to do it, an' then yells, 'I'll l'arn ye, ye slob!' An'
he allus teaches him with his fist or his foot or a belayin'-pin. I bin
punched, kicked, an' knocked down all the way from off Long Beach to the
North Foreland. I was taught to furl a royal off Davis South Shoal with
a kick in the ribs. I had a long splice, a short splice, an eye splice,
an' a black eye punched into me off George's Bank. I got the science o'
heavin' to in a gale o' wind kicked clean through me off Cape Race. I
learned how to heave the log off Sable Island by bein' hove down the
forehatch head fust,'cause I didn't know how to do 't. I got a
fust-class chart o' the North Atlantic Ocean hammered on to my body in
black an' blue, an' ef ever I git lost out there again, it'll be because
the Jersey coast has lost its anchor an' gone adrift. An' now, sir,
here's Dave an' me; we don't want to go South on to a schooner no more.
All we wants to do is to git back to Joppa, let our fathers lick us, an'
then settle down to cod-fishin' an' peace an' quiet for the rest of our
lives."

Mr. Whittingham laughed heartily over this account of the two boys, but
said their final decision was a very wise one, and that he thought they
had paid in full all they owed for having run away from home. He sent
them home in the steerage of a swift ocean liner that landed them in
Joppa a week later.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SCIENTIST AND THE FARMER.

A distinguished scientific writer was once on a shooting excursion in an
English shire. Coming across a bluff, hale farmer, he entered into
conversation with him. As they walked along, they reached a heap of
stones. Pointing to them, the scientific man asked the farmer if he knew
how they were made. The farmer grinned and replied, "Why, they bean't
made, sir; they grows."

"Grow? Why, nonsense, man! What do you mean by grow?"

"Why, same as 'taters grows."

"Dear me! Why, those stones can never grow!" said the scientific man.
"They have been that way for years and years, and if you were to look at
them years hence, they would be just the same size."

At this the farmer actually laughed, and looked at the man of science as
though he pitied his ignorance as he exclaimed, "Why, in course they'd
be, 'cause they've been taken out o' the earth, and they stops growin'
then same as 'taters would."



FOR KING OR COUNTRY.

BY JAMES BARNES.

A Story of the Revolution.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A LOYAL TRAITOR.


"How many men have you?" inquired William, as he accompanied the
black-bearded man down the road.

"About one hundred," he said; "but there are about twice as many good
lads gathering to the southward who will be up in time to assist us. The
English have taken possession of a brick house with a stone wall, and
are afraid to leave it. They are waiting for re-enforcements."

To his astonishment, William saw that the company was composed, with the
exception of the men who had met him in the road, of few whom he would
consider fit to fight in the ranks--boys of fourteen and old gray-headed
men that had been left at home, for the flower of New Jersey manhood was
in the army.

Ralston had called a score or so about him. "Friends," he said, "this is
an old comrade, now a Lieutenant in the army. Let us hold counsel. It is
right that he should take command. We are quite well drilled but not
equipped, sir," he said, turning to William.

The latter looked about. Some of the farmers were armed only with
pitch-forks or rough pikes made from scythes. The Quaker with the pig
had been greeted with the cry of "Fresh pork! Fresh pork!" and a rail
fence was soon converted into fuel.

"I am on special duty," William said, after a thought. "I should not
tarry long."

If he refused to accede to their wishes he would place himself in a
dangerous position, and not only that, but would probably hurt most
seriously the brother whom he was supposed to be. What would he not give
for some news about George's condition? He had only gathered, from what
Cato had told him, that his younger brother was not seriously wounded.

"Let's adjourn to the barn," suggested the sergeant, "and talk matters
over."

All followed him, and seated themselves on the edge of a large bin. With
ears of corn Ralston marked out the position that the English and
Hessians held in the valley below. To save himself, William could not
help but be interested.

"Keep them talking," he thought. "That's it; but propose great caution.
It may give the others time to get away."

A freckle-faced red-eyed boy with a narrow-stocked rifle much taller
than himself looked into the door.

"What is it, Tommy?" said one of the men, as the boy pulled off his
coon-skin cap.

"Are we going to fight, sir?" asked the youth.

"Ay, you'll get your chance," was the answer.

The boy shouldered his musket and walked away.

"Did you mark the lad, Mr. Frothingham?" said Ralston, glancing up from
his plan. "The Hessians two days ago killed his old grandfather and
burnt his sick mother's house down about her head."

This recital started another of the group, and William listened in
horror and amazement. In common with many other officers in the English
service, he had deprecated the use of the German hirelings. His anger at
their outrages overcame every other feeling in his breast.

"You say the Hessians are here," he said, pointing with his finger at a
bunch of corn-cobs, "and that the hill is off here to the right?"

"Yes," answered Ralston, "and the swamp guards their retreat to the
eastward."

Before he knew it, William found himself offering a plan of attack. The
others listened with great attention.

"A true military eye," observed one old man, leaning over his neighbor's
shoulder. "It is a young David come to lead us against the Philistines."

Suddenly William caught his breath. What was he doing? This was nice
work for an officer in the service of the King. "How far off is this
brick house you speak of?" he asked, hoping that even now he might
escape the consequences of his impetuosity.

"Maybe a mile or so," was the response from the old man.

"Had we better not divide our forces, as you suggest, and prepare for an
attack?" said Ralston.

"Yes, I have a thirsty sword." The man tapped an old Scotch claymore
that hung by his side.

"Well said, McPherson," put in another, and William followed them as
they went out through the barn door.

"Draw up in line, comrades, the older men to the top of the hill, and
the younger take position at the edge of the swamp," Ralston spoke
again.

It seemed impossible that such a mob could do anything against an
organized resistance, but a surge of mingled admiration and pride swept
over William. A great lump came into his throat. He glanced at the eager
boys and the bent forms of the old men. Ye gods! These were his
countrymen! Some one, he did not know who, shouted, "Forward!" and he
found himself at the head of a shuffling, swaying company that straggled
out across the road. He was leading as they silently went through the
meadow and came to the crest of a hill where the stubble of the
corn-stalks just showed above the snow. Below him he saw a large brick
house, and about it a strong stone wall. Even from this distance he
could make out the green uniforms of the Hessians and a few red coats
dotted amongst them. William halted an instant.

The weak point of the defence he observed at once. From behind the rocks
on the hill-side the interior of the yard could be commanded. There were
few windows in the house facing the westward, and a large hay-cock
stretched up almost to the second story. He could not help it! The tales
he had heard made him hate the mercenary green coats that had brought
disgrace upon warfare, if such could be. He was in command. He could not
back out, but hesitated to give the word. Another mind, however, had
seen the same opportunity that had struck William so forcibly. As the
men stopped on the hill-side there was a rattling volley below them. A
body of ragged men in homespun much like those grouped about him
appeared on the edge of the alders in the swamp. Others swarmed out from
the woods. The party from the southward had decided to wait no longer
for assistance from the forces under Ralston. Captain Littel, of New
Jersey, was in command of this attack. So well feared and hated had he
been that there was a reward upon his head. William was surprised at the
intrepid charge that these farmer soldiers made upon the wall. A handful
ran out across the meadow, and despite the fact that three fell before
they had gone one hundred yards, they reached the side of the house. One
of the men was carrying a flaming torch. In an instant the hay-cock
roared up in flames, and now the men about him could stand it no longer,
but with a shout they dashed down the hill-side with no more order than
a herd of charging cattle. Spurts of smoke sprang from the windows of
the farm-house. The Waldeckers and the British were driven from behind
the wall, but the house had now caught fire from the burning hay. The
Americans swarmed about it. A man with an axe burst the door. There were
some more shots, but soon the white flag was extended from one of the
windows. This recalled William to his senses, and then he noticed that
he was not alone. Ralston stood beside him.

"Hasten!" he said. "They have surrendered; but so great is their rage
that I am afraid if we do not interfere our people will take no
prisoners. Their blood is hot, they seek revenge!"

Holding his lame arm closely to his side, William ran down the hill, and
was soon at the house. Captain Littel, who had led the first attack, had
been wounded.

"Is any one in command here?" shouted a voice from the window.

Looking up, a British officer was seen standing there. One of the
countrymen levelled a rifle at him, taking aim.

William knocked the piece aside. "Teach them a lesson. Behave like men.
You are not murdering Indians!"

"But those green-coated devils are," said the man, "which is just as
bad." Again he rested his rifle.

William drew back his hand as if to fell the man.

"Hold! You are right," said the latter; "but if you had seen what I
have--" He stopped.

In a minute William found himself haranguing the angry crowd about him.
The fearless ring of his voice and his soldierly bearing had its effect.

The men grew calmer. The fire had now eaten its way into the interior of
the house, and the roof was blazing.

"We surrender," said the officer at the window. "Is there any one here
to whom I can give my sword? For God's sake, don't burn us all to death!"

Ralston, standing at William's side, shouted back, "Come down, then, all
of you."

He pushed the men hither and thither with his strong arms, and formed a
lane for them to pass through. Again he needed strong efforts to
restrain the feelings of the victors as the frightened Hessians and a
few English hurried out of the burning house. The officer was carrying
his sword by the blade. He approached and extended it toward Ralston,
but the latter waved him to where William was standing, pale and torn
with conflicting emotions. As the man in the red coat approached he
started, and almost dropped his sword. It was Captain Markham, who only
a few days ago William had left in the coffee-room at the tavern in New
York.

"Do I give my sword to you?" he said.

"Keep it," said William.

"I will not," said the officer, and he dashed it to the ground at the
latter's feet. "So you are in your true colors at last," he said; "but
let me tell you, sir, it was lucky that you left just when you did. You
were seen talking in a doorway with a man who is now known to be a spy,
and, worse luck, he escaped us also. You know whom I mean?"

"I do not," was William's reply.

"That old man Norton."

William said nothing. He remembered the incident now in the snow-storm.

"Your name is stricken from your regiment, and you are posted for what
you are, you rebel!"

William had no reply to this long speech, and his attention was now
called to a different direction. One of the attacking party had
recognized a low-visaged German who had been prominent in the outrages
at the village. They were for hanging him at once. The band of English
were outnumbered now three to one. They had piled their arms in a heap
as they left the doorway of the house, and were huddled together in an
angle of the wall. Once more William's calm words and appearance had
their effect, and there was a lull. Quickly he told off the most
prominent leaders of the guerilla forces and divided the prisoners into
squads. Once started on the march, it would be easier to keep order.
When this was accomplished he spoke to Captain Markham.

"I cannot reply at length to what you say. All I can do is to save your
lives. Maybe fortune has granted me that power. I am not a traitor by
intent."

The company moved out across the fields, taking up their wounded, and
leaving the dead Hessians where they were.

Captain Markham marched silently along, paying no attention to the looks
that were thrown at him by the angry victors. He admired William's
bearing, despite the standpoint from which he looked upon him. "I
understand now," he said, "why it was you never took the oath of
allegiance to the King."

It was William's turn to start. It was a fact. The ceremony, owing to
the haste in the purchasing of his command and of the departure of
Colonel Forsyth from England, had been omitted.

"What are you going to do with us?" asked the Captain. "How did you come
to be in command?"

"Through fate, perhaps," responded William; "it has decided many things.
I am going to take you to Morristown, if I can; and as for myself, I
shall turn myself in as a prisoner of war with the rest of you. I cannot
explain. Some day you will understand."

It was necessary to hasten the march now, for a messenger had arrived,
stating that re-enforcements of the British were approaching from
Elizabethtown. They marched ahead at a faster pace.

It was a strange tale that William Frothingham related when he brought
his command to the American lines. The idea of an English officer
leading an American attack, and after victory convoying his prisoners to
his enemy's lines, and there insisting upon giving himself up also as a
prisoner of war--this was something new in the annals of history. He
found himself in the most remarkable position that probably a man had
ever been placed in before.

After hearing his tale and recovering from the astonishment of finding
that it was not the Lieutenant Frothingham they knew, the Americans
would not accept him as a prisoner. The Commander-in-Chief expressed the
sentiment of the meeting in these words:

"You are free to return, sir, without exchange; but it is my advice that
you do not do so. What you can explain to us you could never explain to
the gentlemen who are temporarily in New York city."

Colonel Roberts, of Washington's staff, here whispered a suggestion. It
was taken up at once, and the sentence of the court to which William had
presented his remarkable petition was as follows:

"Lieutenant William Frothingham, late of his Majesty King George's
service, is hereby ordered to free confinement at the Manor House of
Stanham Mills, to be paroled there on honor not to escape or desert a
country that has profited by his free service."

       *       *       *       *       *

It was at Stanham Mills.

"Yes, I knowed it all de time," said old Cato to the group in the
kitchen. The old man was breathless from reiterating this statement.

In the big hall a strange meeting was taking place. So many explanations
had to be made; so many questions asked and answered; so many stops and
pauses for Aunt Clarissa to overcome her tears and bursts of
self-deprecation, that it was a long time before quiet and calm could be
restored; but when this had happened, the impossible seemed to have been
accomplished, for there sat the twins as they had years and years
before, hand in hand, and grouped around them were Aunt Clarissa,
Colonel Hewes, Grace, and Carter, for the young Captain had
considerately been given charge of the remarkable prisoner, and many a
long chat and silent hand-grasp had they indulged in between Morristown
and Stanham. William's depression was rolling off him. Somehow it seemed
very natural to be here with his own people again, so much happier than
being with the roistering, swaggering officers that he had so long been
thrown in with.

At last good-nights were said, and Aunt Clarissa, with a final burst of
weeping, had gone up stairs on the arm of her tall young niece. George
and William stepped to the door as they watched Carter and his father
mount their horses, for the latter was now living in a small house with
the troops at the foundry.

A figure was standing leaning against one of the pillars. It advanced as
the twins came out upon the piazza.

"How!" was the greeting in a deep chest tone.

"How, Adam!" William responded, taking the old Indian's extended hand.
Again the latter repeated this exclamation, and turning, shuffled off.
In his belt shone a great horse-pistol. It had once belonged to Cloud,
the Renegade.

"Brother mine," said George, placing his arm across William's shoulder,
"it has been the finger of the Lord."

William rested his head on his arm. "But they say I am a traitor," he
replied.

[Illustration: "BROTHER MINE," SAID GEORGE.... "IT IS FOR KING OR
COUNTRY."]

George laughed. "You are a patriot, then," he said. "You could not help
what grew up in your heart. It is for King or country."

"For country, then," said William, firmly.

"God prosper us," said George, "we will help deliver it together."

[THE END.]



RICK DALE.

BY KIRK MUNROE.

CHAPTER VII.

CAPTAIN DUFF OF THE SLOOP "FANCY."


As the newly engaged crew of the sloop _Fancy_ slowly and awkwardly
descended the slippery ladder leading down to his ship, he experienced
his first regrets at the decisive step he had taken, and doubts as to
its wisdom. The real character of the sloop as shown by a single glance
was so vastly different from his ideal, that for a moment it did not
seem as though he could accept the disreputable old craft as even a
temporary home. Never before had he realized how he loathed dirt and
disorder, and all things that offended his delicately trained senses.
Never before had he appreciated the cleanly and orderly forms of living
to which he had always been accustomed. He could not imagine it possible
to eat, sleep, or even exist on board such a craft as lay just beneath
him, and his impulse was to fly to some remote place where he should
never see or hear of the _Fancy_ again. But even as he was about to do
this the sound of Bonny's reassuring voice completely changed the
current of his thoughts.

Was not the lad who had brought him to this place a very picture of
cheerful health, and just such a strong, active, self-reliant boy as he
longed to become? Surely what Bonny could endure he could! Perhaps
disagreeable things were necessary to the proper development of a boy.
That thought had never come to him before, but now he remembered how
much his hands had suffered before they were trained to catch a
regulation ball.

Besides all this, had not Bonny hesitated before consenting to give him
a trial, and had he not insisted on coming? Had he not also confidently
asserted that all he wanted was a chance to show what he was good for,
and that nothing save a dismissal should cause him to relinquish
whatever position was given to him? After all, no matter how bad things
might prove on the sloop, there would always be plenty of fresh air and
sunshine, besides an unlimited supply of clean water. He could remember
catching glimpses, in foreign cities, of innumerable pestilential places
in which human beings were compelled to spend whole lifetimes, where
none of these things were to be had.

Yes, he would keep on and make the best of whatever presented itself,
for perhaps things would not prove to be as bad as they seemed; and,
after all, he was willing to endure a great deal for the sake of
continuing the friendship just begun between himself and Bonny Brooks.
He remembered now having once heard his father say that a friendship
worth having was worth fighting for. If that were the case, what a
coward he would be to even think of relinquishing his first real
friendship without making an effort to retain it!

By the time all these thoughts had flashed through the boy's mind he had
gained the sloop's deck, where he was startled by an angry voice that
sounded like the bellow of an enraged bull. Turning quickly, he saw his
friend Bonny confronted by a big man with a red face and bristling
beard. This individual, supported by a pair of rudely made crutches, was
standing beside the after-companionway and glaring at the bag containing
his own effects that had been tossed down from the wharf.

"Ye've got a hand, have ye?" roared this man, whom Alaric instinctively
knew to be the Captain. "Is this his dunnage?"

"Yes, sir," replied the first mate. "And I think--"

"Never mind what you think," interrupted the Captain, fiercely. "Send
him about his business, and pitch his dunnage back on the wharf or pitch
it overboard, I don't care which. Pitch it! d'ye hear?"

"But, Captain Duff, I think--"

"Who asked ye to think? I do the thinking on board this craft. Don't ye
suppose I know what I'm talking about? I tell ye I had this Phil Ryder
with me on one cruise, and I'll never have him on another! An impudent
young puppy as ever lived, and a desarter to boot. Took off two of my
best men with him, too. Oh, I know him, and I'd Phil him full of his own
rifle-bullets ef I had the chance! I'd like to Ryder him on a rail,
too."

"You are certainly mistaken, sir, this time, for--"

"Who, I? You dare say I'm mistaken, you tarry young swab you?" roared
the man, his face turning purple with rage. "Oh, ef I had the proper use
of my feet for one minute I'd show ye! Put him ashore, I tell ye, and do
it in a hurry too, or you'll go with him without one cent of wages--not
one cent, d'ye hear? I'll have no mutiny where I'm Cap'n."

Poor Alaric listened to this fierce outbreak with mingled fear and
dismay. Now that the situation he had deemed so surely his either to
accept or reject was denied him, it again seemed very desirable. He was
about to speak up in his own behalf when the angry man's last threat
caused him to change his mind. He could not permit Bonny to suffer on
his account, and lose the position he had so recently attained. No, the
very first law of friendship forbade that; and so, stepping forward to
claim his bag, he said, in a low tone, "Never mind me, Bonny; I'll go."

"No, you won't!" retorted the young mate, stoutly, "or, if you do, I'll
go with you; and I'll have my wages too, Captain Duff, or know the
reason why."

Without paying the slightest attention to this remark, the man was
staring at Alaric, whom he had not noticed until this moment. "Who is
that landlubber togged out like a sporty salt?" he demanded.

"He's the crew I hired, and the one you have just bounced," replied
Bonny.

"What's his name?"

"Rick Dale."

"What made you say it was Phil Ryder, then?"

"I didn't, sir. You--"

"Don't contradict me, you unlicked cub! Can he shoot?"

"No, sir," replied Alaric, as Bonny looked at him inquiringly.

"All right. I wouldn't have him aboard if he could. Why don't he take
his thundering dunnage and go for'ard, where he belongs, and cook me
some grub when he knows I haven't had anything to eat sence sunup? Why
don't he, I say?"

With this Captain Duff turned and clumped heavily to the other side of
the deck; while Bonny, hastily picking up the bag that had been the
innocent cause of all this uproar, said, in a low voice,

"Come on, Rick. It's all right."

As they went forward together he dropped the bag down a tiny forecastle
hatch. Then, after asking Alaric to cut some kindlings and start a fire
in the galley stove, which was housed on deck, he dove into the cabin to
see what he could find that could be cooked for dinner.

When he reappeared a minute later, he found his crew struggling with an
axe and a chunk of hard wood, from which he was vainly attempting to
detach some slivers. He had already cut two deep gashes in the deck, and
in another moment would probably have needed crutches as badly as the
Captain himself.

"Hold on, Rick!" cried the young mate, catching the axe-helve just as
the weapon was making another erratic descent. "I find those grocery
chaps haven't sent down any stores. So do you just run up there. It's
two doors this side of Uncle Isaac's, you know, and hurry them along.
I'll 'tend to the fire while you are gone."

Gladly exchanging his unaccustomed, and what he considered to be very
dangerous, task of wood-chopping for a task that he felt sure he could
accomplish creditably, Alaric hastened away. He found the grocer's
easily enough, and demanded of the first clerk he met why the stores for
the sloop _Fancy_ had not been sent down.

"Must have been the other clark, sir, and I suppose he forgot all about
'em; but I'll attend to the order at once, sir," replied the man, who
took in at a glance Alaric's gentlemanly bearing and the newness of his
nautical garb. "Have 'em right down, sir. Hard bread, salt junk, rice,
and coffee, I believe. Anything else, sir?"

"I'm sure I don't know," replied Alaric.

"Going to take a run on the _Fancy_ yourself, sir?"

"Yes."

"Then of course you'll want some soft bread, a few tins of milk, half a
dozen jars of marmalade, and a dozen or so of potted meats?"

"I suppose so," assented the boy.

"Step this way, sir, and let me show you some of our fine goods,"
suggested the clerk, insinuatingly.

In another part of the building he prattled glibly of pâté-de-foie-gras
and Neufchatel cheese, truffles, canned mushrooms, Albert biscuit,
anchovy paste, stuffed olives, Weisbaden prunes, and a variety of
things--all of which were so familiar to the millionaire's son, and had
appeared so naturally on all the tables at which he had ever sat, that
he never for a moment doubted but what they must be necessities on the
_Fancy_ as well. Of ten million boys he was perhaps the only one
absolutely ignorant that these luxuries were not daily articles of food
with all persons above the grade of paupers; and as he was equally
without a knowledge of their cost, he allowed the clerk to add a dozen
jars of this, and as many pots of that, to his list, until even that
wily individual could think of nothing else with which to tempt this
easy-going customer. So, promising that the supplies just ordered should
be sent down directly, he bowed Alaric out of the door, at the same time
trusting that they should be honored with his future patronage.

Bethinking himself that he must have a tooth-brush, and that it would
also be just as well to have his own comb, in spite of Bonny's assurance
that the ship's comb would be at his service, the lad went in search of
these articles. When he found them he was also tempted to invest in what
he regarded as two other indispensables, namely, a cake of fine soap and
a bottle of eau-de-Cologne.

He had gone quite a distance for these things, and occupied a full
half-hour in getting them. As he retraced his steps toward the wharves
he passed the slop-shop in which his first purchases of the day had been
made, and was greeted by the proprietor with an inquiry as to whether
old Duff had taken aboard his cargo of "chinks and dope" yet. Not
understanding the question Alaric did not answer it; but as he passed on
he wondered what sort of a cargo that would be.

By the time he regained the wharf to which the _Fancy_ was moored the
flooding tide had raised her to a level with it, and on her deck Alaric
beheld a scene that filled him with amazement. The stores that he had
ordered had arrived. The wagon in which they had come stood at one side,
and they had all been taken aboard. One of the two men who had brought
them was exchanging high words and even a shaking of fists with the
young first mate of the sloop, while the other was presenting a bill to
the Captain and insisting upon its payment.

[Illustration: CAPTAIN DUFF, FOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND PURPLE IN THE
FACE, WAS SPEECHLESS WITH RAGE.]

Captain Duff, foaming at the mouth and purple in the face, was
speechless with rage, and could only make futile passes with one of his
crutches at the man with the bill, who dodged each blow with great
agility. As Alaric appeared this individual cried out,

"Here's the young gent as ordered the goods now!"

"Certainly," said Alaric, advancing to the sloop's side. "I was told to
order some stores, and I did so."

"Oh, you did, did ye! you thundering young blunderbuss?" roared Captain
Duff, finding his voice at last. "Then suppose you pay for 'em."

"Very well," replied the lad, quietly, thinking this an official command
that must be obeyed.

A minute later peace was restored, Captain Duff was gasping, and his
first mate was staring with amazement. The bill had been paid, the wagon
driven away, and Alaric was again without a single cent in his pockets.


CHAPTER VIII.

AN UNLUCKY SMASH.

Captain Duff's first order after peace was thus restored and he had
recovered the use of his voice, temporarily lost through amazement at
the spectacle of a sailor before the mast paying out of his own pocket
for a ship's stores, and stores of such an extraordinary character as
well, was that the goods thus acquired should be immediately
transferred to his own cabin. So Bonny, with Alaric to assist, began to
carry the things below.

The cabin was very small, dirty, and stuffy. The air of the place was so
pervaded with a combination odor of stale tobacco smoke, mouldy leather,
damp clothing, bilge water, kerosene, onions, and other things of an
equally obtrusive nature, that poor Alaric gasped for breath on first
descending the steep flight of steps leading to it.

On his next trip below the lad drew in a long breath of fresh air just
before entering the evil-smelling cabin, and determined not to take
another until he should emerge from it. In his haste to execute this
plan he dropped his armful of cans, and without waiting to stow them,
had gained the steps before realizing that the Captain was ordering him
to come back.

Furious at having his command thus disregarded, the man reached out with
one of his crutches, caught it around the boy's neck, and gave him a
violent jerk backward.

The startled lad, losing his foothold, came to the floor with a crash
and a loud escaping "Ah!" of pent-up breath. At the same moment the
cabin began to be pervaded with a new and unaccustomed odor so strong
that all the others temporarily withdrew in its favor.

"Oh, murder! Let me out!" gasped Captain Duff, as he scrambled for the
companionway and a breath of outer air. "Of all the smells I ever
smelled that's the worst!"

"What have you broken, Rick?" asked Bonny, anxiously, thrusting his head
down the companionway. He had been curiously reading the unfamiliar
labels on the various jars, pots, and bottles, and now fancied that his
crew had slipped down the steep steps with some of these in his arms.

"Whew! but it's strong!" he continued, as the penetrating fumes greeted
his nostrils. "Is it the truffles or the pate grass or the cheese?"

"I'm afraid," replied Alaric, sadly, as he slowly rose from the cabin
floor and thrust a cautious hand into one of his hip pockets, "that it
is a bottle of eau-de-Cologne."

"Cologne!" cried Bonny, incredulously, as he caught the word. "If these
foreign kinds of grub are put up in Cologne, it's no wonder that I never
heard of them before. Why, it's poison, that's what it is, and nothing
less. Shall I heave the rest of the truck overboard, sir?"

"Hold on!" cried Alaric, emerging with rueful face from the cabin in
time to catch this suggestion. "It isn't in them. It was in my pocket
all by itself."

"I wish it had staid there, and you'd gone to Halifax with it afore ever
ye brought the stuff aboard this ship!" thundered the Captain. "Avast,
ye lubber! Don't come anigh me. Go out on the dock and air yourself."

So the unhappy lad, his clothing saturated with cologne, betook himself
to the wharf, where, as he slowly walked up and down, filling the air
with perfume, he carefully removed bits of broken glass from his moist
pocket, and disgustedly flung them overboard.

While he was thus engaged, the first mate, under the Captain's personal
supervision, was fumigating the cabin by burning in it a bunch of oakum
over which was scattered a small quantity of tobacco. When the
atmosphere of the place was thus so nearly restored to its normal
condition that Captain Duff could again endure it, Bonny finished
stowing the supplies, and then turned his attention to preparing supper.

Meanwhile Alaric had been joined in his lonely promenade by a stranger,
who, with a curious expression on his face as he drew near the lad,
changed his position so as to get on the windward side, and then began a
conversation.

"Fine evening," he said.

"Is it?" asked Alaric, moodily.

"I think so. Do you belong on that sloop? Where does she run to from
here?"

"The Sound," answered Alaric, shortly.

"What does she carry?"

"Passengers and cargo."

"Indeed? And may I ask what sort of a cargo?"

"You may."

"Well, then, what sort?" persisted the stranger.

"Chinks and dope," returned Alaric, glancing up with the expectation of
seeing a look of bewilderment on his questioner's face. But the latter
only said:

"Um! About what I thought. Paying business, isn't it?"

"If it wasn't we wouldn't be in it," replied the boy.

"No, I suppose not; and it must pay big since it enables even the
cabin-boy to drench himself with perfumery."

Ere Alaric could reply the stranger was walking rapidly away, and Bonny
was calling him to supper.

The first mate apologized for serving this meal on deck, but that
Captain Duff objected to the crew's presence at his table on this
occasion. "So," said Bonny, "I told him he might eat alone, then, for I
should come out here and eat with you."

"I hope he will always feel the same way," retorted Alaric, "for it
doesn't seem as though I could possibly stay in that cabin long enough
to eat a meal."

"Oh, I guess you could," laughed Bonny. "Anyway, it will be all right by
breakfast-time, for the smell is nearly gone now. But I say, Rick Dale,
what an awfully funny fellow you are anyway! What made you pay for all
that truck? It must have taken every cent you had."

"So it did," replied Alaric. "But what of that? It was the easiest way
to smooth things over that I knew of."

"It wouldn't have been for me, then," rejoined Bonny, "for I haven't
handled a dollar in so long that it would scare me to find one in my
pocket. But why didn't you let them take back the things we didn't
need?"

"Because, having ordered them, we were bound to accept them, and I
thought we needed them all. I'm awfully tired of such things myself, but
I didn't know you were."

"What, olives and mushrooms and truffles, and the rest of the things
with queer names? I never tasted one of them in my life, and don't
believe the Captain did, either."

"That seems odd," reflected Alaric.

"Doesn't it?" responded Bonny, quizzically. "And that cologne, too. What
ever made you buy it?"

"I don't know exactly. Because I happened to see it, I suppose, and
thought it would be a useful thing to have along. A little of it is nice
in your bath, you know, or to put on your handkerchief when you have a
headache."

"My stars!" exclaimed Bonny. "Listen to that, will you? Why, Rick, to
hear you talk, one would think you were a prince in disguise, or a
bloated aristocrat!"

"Well, I'm not," answered Alaric, shortly. "I'm only a sailor on board
the sloop _Fancy_, who has just eaten a fine supper and enjoyed it."

"Have you, really?" asked the other, dubiously. "It didn't seem to me
that just coffee without any milk, hard bread, and fried salt pork were
very fine, and I was afraid that perhaps you wouldn't like 'em."

"I do, though," insisted Alaric. "You see, I never tasted any of those
things before, and they are first class."

"Well," said Bonny, "I don't think much of such grub, and I've had it
for more than a year, too; but then every one to his liking. Now I've
got to notify our passengers, for we sail to-night. You may come with me
and learn the ropes if you want to."

"But we haven't any cargo aboard," objected Alaric.

"Oh, that won't take long. A few minutes will fix the cargo all right."

Alaric wondered what sort of a cargo could be taken aboard in a few
minutes, but concluded to wait and see.

Soon both lads went ashore and walked up into the town. Although it was
now evening, Bonny did not seek the well-lighted business streets, but
made his way to what struck Alaric as a peculiarly disreputable
neighborhood. The houses were small and dingy, and their windows were so
closely shuttered that no ray of light issued from them.

At length they paused before a low door, on which Bonny rapped in a
peculiar manner. It was cautiously opened by a man who held a dim lamp
over his head, and who evidently regarded them with suspicion. He was
reassured by a few words from the young mate; the door was closed behind
them, and, with the stranger leading the way, while Alaric, filled with
curiosity, brought up the rear, all three entered a narrow and very dark
passage, the air of which was close and stifling.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]



[Illustration: THE SPEEDWAY AS IT IS TO-DAY, LOOKING TOWARD HIGH
BRIDGE.]



BUILDING A BOULEVARD.

BY J. PARMLY PARET.


A few years ago the people of New York decided that they must have a new
boulevard, where fast horses could be driven without running over people
or upsetting the carriages of those who didn't want to drive so fast.
They puzzled their heads for some time to find a suitable spot for their
new driveway, and it was many months before they finally agreed upon the
bank of the Harlem River which runs along the east side of the city. The
shore here is straight for several miles, and is lined with such steep,
wooded bluffs that all the bridges cross the river high up in the air.
Here there is no danger of interruption, and as the roadway can be both
straight and level, it was chosen as an ideal spot, and the Harlem River
Speedway is now being built there.

The building of this great boulevard has already been going on for two
years, and it will probably take fully two more to complete it. The
steep banks sloped down to the very edge of the river, so it was
necessary to build the road out in the water for most of its length, and
the workmen had to make land to build it on. In one or two places great
masses of rocks were in the way, and here they cut the driveway right
through the solid rock. At one point there was a big gap in the cliffs,
and the road was built up on top of a high stone wall for over a quarter
of a mile, while in another place they had to blast out thousands of
tons of rocks from under the water to make room for the new drive.

[Illustration: LEVEL STRETCH OF THE SPEEDWAY, SHOWING CRIBS, DREDGES,
AND PORTIONS OF THE RIVER THAT MUST BE FILLED IN.]

Long before they could begin the actual work of building such a big road
as this the civil engineers spent many months preparing their "plans and
specifications." They estimate so many hundreds of thousands of cubic
yards of mud to be dredged out of the river bed; so many thousands of
feet of crib-work to be built; so many hundreds of yards of stone wall
to be built; so many cubic yards of filling and grading, and so
many--well, so many other things to be done that it took a big printed
pamphlet to mention them all. Then the contractors who wanted to build
the driveway made their offers to do the work, and the contract was
given to the lowest bidder. This is the way with all public
improvements.

Three months after the boulevard was started the river front for two
miles fairly swarmed with workmen. At times there were nearly two
thousand men at work there, and from the top of the big stone bridge,
under whose high arches the road was to pass, a busy scene was
presented. Far down below the hordes of men looked like little black
ants crawling about at their work. All day long the little steam-drills
that bored holes to blast away the rocks puffed out their little clouds
of white smoke; the big pile-drivers thumped on regularly upon the tops
of great piles as they sunk deeper and deeper into the soft mud, and
clumsy steam-derricks and mud-dredges groaned under their work, while
the scores of little carts, with their tiny horses and tiny workmen
looked like swarms of bugs and ants quarreling together. The boats were
covered with workmen, the shore was black with workmen, the rocky
heights were sprinkled with workmen--everywhere it was alive with them.
High Bridge was often lined with people looking down at the busy scene
below.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the work was making the new land to
build the roadway on. If they had simply dumped earth into the river, it
would soon have washed away with the tides, so they had to begin from
the outside and build in toward the shore.

First, a swarm of bristling, beetlelike mud-dredges anchored along in
line just off the shore, and for many weeks their big scoops chunked up
and down in the shallow water, each time bringing up with them great
masses of black slimy mud. Scows were loaded down to the water's edge by
the dredges, and sent off to dump the mud somewhere else where filling
was wanted. When they came back, too, they generally towed behind them
rafts of loose logs. For months these logs were coming up the river
almost every day, and were anchored off the scene of the work. Hundreds
of thousands of loose logs were towed up for this work at different
times, and just before the crib-work was begun that part of the river
looked like a logging camp.

When the dredges had dug a long deep trench in the mud where the outer
edge of the roadway was to be, the work of sinking the cribs began.
These cribs are made of logs laid crosswise, like old-fashioned log
cabins, and fastened together. They were built at a ship-yard, in
sections several hundred feet long, and towed up the river to be sunk in
the trench. No sooner had they been fastened in place, by a row of
piles, than the hordes of workmen began to swarm all over them. The
loose logs were hauled up out of the water and laid on the cribs
crosswise, and fastened in place with great spikes.

[Illustration: CRIB IN FOREGROUND, PILES IN SHOAL WATER, AND WALL OF
MASONRY IN BACKGROUND.]

But though the workmen kept on building up the cribs, they did not seem
to grow any higher. As fast as the new logs were added the weight
carried them down deeper into the water. Finally they were sunk into the
mud at the bottom of the trenches by filling them with tons upon tons of
broken rocks, and when they were firmly imbedded they were built up to
the proper height with more logs.

In some places these cribs are higher than an ordinary city house, and
considerably wider at the bottom. Imagine a log cabin bigger than a
house, and you have a good idea of what these cribs would look like if
entirely out of water. When finally settled in place the outside edges
were trimmed with smooth-cut timbers, and the work of filling in began.
A little railroad was built along the tops of the sunken cribs and up
the side of the hill, where a lot of blasting and digging was going on.
Dummy-cars pulled by mules were loaded with rocks and earth, and dumped
into the great gap between the cribs and the shore. Many thousands of
tons of dirt and rocks were thrown in here before the big opening was
filled up.

[Illustration: WHERE THE CRIBS HAVE SLID OUT OF PLACE.]

But the engineers had made a serious mistake in planning this part of
the boulevard, and the weight of the filling behind them pushed some of
the cribs out into the water. Far down under the soft muddy bottom there
is hard rock, and this shelves out rapidly toward the middle of the
river; so when the great weight was filled in behind the sunken cribs,
the mud, cribs and all, slid out in places away from the shore. Some
parts have moved as much as eight feet at the top, and apparently much
more at the bottom, and before the great speedway can be finished, this
work will have to be repaired, and the outer edge moved back out of the
channel of the river.

Just below the bridge a great rocky promontory jutted out into the way
like a cape, and nearly a hundred thousand cubic yards of rock were
blasted away to make room for the boulevard. When the workmen got down
to the level of the water, submarine drills had to be used for the
blasting. This work, too, was very interesting. Divers in rubber suits
with glass eyes were sent down under the water to fix the drills in
position, and then the holes were bored from the floats above. When they
had been sunk deep enough, the divers went down again and fixed the
charges of powder that blasted out the rocks. It was like a small
earthquake and water-spout combined when one of these blasts went off.

Down at the lower end of the road the approach winds down the side of
the rocky heights. Here it is supported for nearly half a mile on a
great stone wall, which gradually grows smaller and smaller as the
approach nears the level of the river. At one point another great mass
of rock got in the way of the workmen, and they blasted their way right
through its centre. The carriages will disappear in this cut as though
they had been swallowed up by the rocks, and come out again on the other
side as they wind their way down toward the straight part of the road
along the river-bank. Over forty thousand cubic yards of rock were cut
out of this place alone, and the workmen used all this and much more to
fill in the cribs when they sunk them in the river below.

The big wall that supports the approach was another difficult part of
the work. In one place this is over forty feet high, and more than half
as thick at the bottom. Just think of a solid stone wall as high as a
house and more than half as thick at its base! It narrows down to two or
three feet in thickness at its top, like a pyramid of masonry, and above
this will be a railing to prevent people from falling off, for there is
to be a sidewalk along the outer edge of the driveway here. It took
many, many months to build that wall alone.

There will be two sidewalks in most parts of the new boulevard, but
people will be allowed to cross from one to the other only at certain
points, and then under the roadway. It would be dangerous to cross where
fast horses are constantly passing, so there will be two or three
tunnels, or transverse culverts, as the engineers call them, at
different parts of the driveway. These tunnels will pass under the
road-bed, connecting both sidewalks with stone steps at either side.
Sewer culverts, too, have been built at a number of points along the
driveway, for the amount of rain that drains off the slopes at the side
of the boulevard after a storm would almost undermine it if there were
not proper outlets for the water.

[Illustration: THE COFFER-DAM AT THE BEGINNING OF THE LEVEL STRETCH.]

Another engineering difficulty was found when the workmen reached the
lower end of the approach, for the rocky bluffs end suddenly there
before the approach has reached the level of the crib-work. Here they
had to dig down forty feet in the mud to get a hard bottom for the rest
of the support. A wooden wall was built around the spot to keep the
water out, and inside of this "coffer-dam," as the engineers call it,
the masons laid the foundations for the last end of the stone wall. It
was almost impossible to keep the wooden sides from leaking too, and
they had to keep pumps at work almost all the time to prevent the inside
from filling with water.

The work was stopped for the winter, but as soon as the mild weather
comes again the river front will once more swarm with an army of
workmen, and the busy little ants will tear down a lot of the work that
has been done and do it all over again. The mistake of the engineers
will make the new boulevard cost hundreds of thousands of dollars more
than it was expected, and New York will have to pay over two million
dollars for her new speedway before it is finished.



MOLLY PITCHER.


In all our school histories--that is, histories of the United
States--honorable mention is made of Molly Pitcher, who did good service
as a soldier in the Revolutionary war. None of these text-books gives us
any clew to Molly's origin, but nearly all of them tell us that the
brave woman lies in an unmarked grave, after having passed away without
the recognition of her ungrateful country. Sometimes she is buried on
the banks of the Hudson, but as a general thing the historians leave us
to infer that the location of her grave is entirely unknown. This is all
wrong, and I hope that the compiler of the next school history of our
country will read what is here told of the heroine, and after verifying
the facts, give in his book such attention to the true story of her life
as her services entitle her to.

Mary Ludwig was the daughter of Pennsylvania Dutch parents, industrious
people with a large family to support. In 1768, when about twenty years
old, Mary "hired out" as maid of all work in the family of William
Irvine of Carlisle, and on July 24th of the following year became the
wife of John Casper Hayes, the town barber. Seven years later, when the
war broke out, Hayes enlisted as a private in the First Pennsylvania
Artillery, but was afterward transferred to the Seventh Pennsylvania
Infantry, commanded by Colonel William Irvine, his wife's former
employer. When the artillery regiment was ordered to go to the front
Molly marched with it, having obtained the authority of the Colonel
(Thomas Proctor) to serve in her husband's battery as cook and
laundress. At the battle of Monmouth (Freehold), New Jersey, Hayes was
wounded while serving his gun; but his place was soon filled by his
wife, who rushed to the front when she heard of his fall, picked up the
rammer he had dropped, and till the battle ended did as good service in
loading the piece as could have been done by the best-drilled man in the
battery. When the fight was over, Molly busied herself in carrying water
for the wounded, and it was from this service she came by the pet name
"Molly Pitcher."

Molly's husband did not die on the field, but when he recovered from his
wound he entered the infantry regiment mentioned above, and remained
with it till peace was declared. A few months after reaching Carlisle,
Molly was left a widow, but a year later she married John McCauley, who
seems to have led her an unhappy life. On Washington's birthday, 1822,
when Molly was nearly seventy-five years old, the Legislature of
Pennsylvania voted her a gift of forty dollars and pension of forty
dollars a year for her noteworthy services during the Revolutionary war.

Molly lived to be nearly ninety. She died on the 22d of January, 1833,
and was buried as a soldier, "with the honors of war," in the old
Carlisle cemetery. More than forty years afterward--that is, on the
Fourth of July, 1876--the citizens of Carlisle erected a handsome
monument, over the heroine's grave. It bears this inscription:

  MOLLY MCCAULEY,

  RENOWNED IN HISTORY AS "MOLLY PITCHER,"

  THE HEROINE OF MONMOUTH.

  Died January, 1833.

         *       *       *       *       *

  Erected by the Citizens of Cumberland County, July 4, 1876.



THE WEATHER BUREAU.

BY W. J. HENDERSON.


What is the Weather Bureau? It is a branch of the national government
service whose duty it is to make forecasts of the weather, to estimate
and publish the probabilities twice in every twenty-four hours. Its
headquarters are at Washington, and it is attached to the Agricultural
Department. It was originally a part of the army, for on June 1, 1860,
Congress passed an act establishing the Signal Service, and detailing a
major and several signal officers to conduct it. In 1863 the Signal
Corps was organized. It served through the war, and was then permitted
to disband. It was reorganized in 1866, and the weather predictions were
a part of its duties until recently. Now the weather service, or, to be
more accurate, the Meteorological Bureau, is a separate service.

Its business is to predict the weather as nearly as it can. Most persons
are of the opinion that it can do this accurately. At any rate, they
blame the observers very severely when, owing to local causes, their
predictions, intended to cover a large territory, are not fulfilled to
the letter. If they predict showers followed by clearing weather in
eastern New York, and it does not clear up in New York city till nine
o'clock in the evening, inhabitants of the metropolis are very likely to
say unkind things about the observers. They forget that the chief
objects of this service are to furnish valuable information to mariners,
to the great rice and cotton growers of the South, to the farmers, and
to all other persons upon whose prosperity the weather has a potent
influence. The fact that John Smith is caught in an unexpected rain and
gets his new hat spoiled is not so important as the sailing of a ship,
laden with valuable freight, into the teeth of a howling hurricane, of
which she might have been warned. The government spends a good deal of
money on this service. It costs $5000 to fit out a station, and the
yearly allowance for incidentals alone is $500. This is exclusive of the
pay of observers and the cost of telegraphing. And there are 182 of
these stations at work now.

Twice a day, at 8 A.M. and at 8 P.M., the observations of the weather
conditions are taken; and they are immediately telegraphed, in a cipher
devised for the purpose, to Washington, at the headquarters. There the
facts contained in the reports from the different parts of the country
are collated, and the probabilities deduced from them. The bulletins
which are printed in the newspapers are sent out, and also weather maps.
On these maps are printed lines showing the areas over which certain
variations of the barometer exist, and other lines showing the changes
in temperature. If you understand the manner in which American weather
operates, you can take these maps every day and make pretty good
predictions yourself.

As I have said, it is from the local observations that the general
predictions are made. In the city of New York the weather is studied
away up on top of the tall building of the Manhattan Life-insurance
Company. The Local Forecast Observer--that's his official title--is
E. B. Dunn, who, when this was an army service, was Sergeant Dunn. Now
the irreverent newspapers call him "Farmer" Dunn. What he does in his
office is what all the other observers throughout the country do in
theirs. I am going to describe his methods as he described them to me,
and then you'll know all about it.

The instruments used in observing the weather are the aneroid and
cistern barometers, wet and dry bulb thermometers, wind vane and
compass, anemometer and anemograph, and the rainfall. Of all these the
barometer is probably the most important. The standard form of the
instrument is a tube thirty-four inches long, closed at the top,
exhausted of air, and immersed at the bottom in a cup of mercury. The
purpose of the barometer is to measure the pressure of the atmosphere.
In general, the mercury will stand high in the tube when the weather is
fair, and low when it is foul. By noting the minute changes, measured on
a graduated scale beside the tube, the observer reads the indications of
the barometer. The words "fair," "change," etc., engraved on the front
of the instrument are disregarded. They have no significance whatever.
The rising or falling of the mercury in the tube is caused by the
beginning of those atmospheric changes which precede a storm but are not
discernible by our senses. The barometer discerns them for us, and gives
warning of weather changes. Of course there are many different
conditions which affect the instrument, and the weather observers are
instructed in these matters. The aneroid barometer is round, like one of
the cheap nickel-plated clocks that are so numerous, and the changes are
indicated by a hand moving across a scale on the dial. The weight of the
atmosphere is measured not by a column of mercury in a tube, but by the
expansion and compression of a small metal box from which the air has
been exhausted.

The thermometer, as the reader knows, measures the temperature of the
air; and in all readings of the barometer the changes in temperature
have to be taken into account. The weather observers use two kinds of
thermometers, the dry and the wet bulb. The dry bulb is the ordinary
form, which every one knows, and is used to measure heat and cold. The
wet has the bulb wrapped in some absorbent material, which is kept
soaked with water. Now you know, without my telling you, that the water
will cool the bulb, and hence the wet-bulb thermometer will stand lower
than the dry. That cold is caused by evaporation, and the evaporating
power of the atmosphere depends upon the amount of moisture there is in
the air. So you at once see that the difference between the readings of
the wet and dry bulb thermometers indicates the amount of moisture in
the air. This amount the observers express in percentages of 100; and
thus we read of "humidity, 60 per cent." Under ordinary circumstances,
when the humidity gets close to 100, the point at which the air is
soaked with moisture, it is going to rain. The temperature, however, and
also the wind, have a good deal to do with this. The form in which the
weather observers use these two thermometers is called the whirling
psychrometer. The two instruments are put on the end of an arm, which is
fixed on an axle turned by a crank. The observer whirls this around a
few times before reading the instrument, for the purpose of making the
air act freely on the two bulbs.

The direction of the wind, as every one knows, is shown by a weather
vane. Those which are used by the observing stations, however, have an
attachment which automatically records on a sheet of paper every
variation of the vane, so that the office has an account of the smallest
changes of the wind during the twenty-four hours. The speed of the wind
is measured by the anemometer. This consists of four half-spheres at the
end of four horizontal arms, which centre on an upright axle. The force
of the wind causes the arms to revolve, and it has been found that 500
revolutions equal one mile. If the arms revolve 3000 times in an hour,
the wind is blowing six miles an hour. The revolving of the upright axle
operates a contrivance by which the speed of the wind for every minute
in the day is recorded.

The amount of rain which falls is measured in a way which shows what the
depth of water would be on a level surface if it did not, in the natural
order of things, run off. The rain is caught in a funnel 8-1/2 inches in
diameter, so placed as to be protected from all gusts of wind. The
record is made in five-hundredths of an inch.

In addition to all these instruments the observers watch the well-known
weather signs in the sky. Sunset and sunrise and the various changes in
the appearance of the clouds are carefully studied. When a man has spent
a year or two of his life in watching all these things, he can make a
pretty safe prediction as to the weather for the next twenty-four hours.
The Weather Bureau does not profess to foretell the conditions, except
in special instances, for more than forty-eight hours.

Now I have told you what the local observers at each station watch and
record and note in their reports sent to Washington. What you naturally
desire now to know is how do the officials at the central office make
their deductions as to the probable weather throughout the country. How
do they know that a cold wave is advancing eastward, or that a severe
storm is travelling up the coast, and that cautionary signals are to be
set between Cape Henry and Passamaquoddy, or some other points? One of
the principal ways in which the observers can tell the path of a storm
is by watching the rainfall ahead of it. They have found that there is a
sort of advance guard of rain, behind which is the lowest barometric
area; and they regard that part of the country where the barometer is
lowest as the centre of the storm. The reports from various stations
show the path of the advancing rain, and the weather observers know that
a low barometer is likely to follow it. They cannot tell exactly how
fast it will advance, for areas of clear weather stand in the way of
the storm, and local causes sometimes prevent them from yielding
quickly.

[Illustration: COURSE OF CIRCULAR STORM SHOWING ITS TWO MOVEMENTS.]

The chief reliance of the observers, however, is on a general
acquaintance with the laws of storms. Years of observation and recording
have proved that storms have ways of their own, and when you know where
a storm has come from you can come very close to telling just where it
is going. At any rate, it cannot get lost so long as it is in the United
States, for the weather men are always on its track. The greatest
originating place for storms is the equator, and, in our hemisphere,
that part of it which is near the West Indies. Most of our cyclones, or
revolving storms, originate there. These storms have two kinds of
motions. In the first place, the storm-wind blows in a circle, like a
gigantic whirlwind; and in the second place this whole thing advances
over the land and sea, very much as a top, while spinning on its own
centre, will move slowly along the floor. A cyclone starting down near
the equator will begin by moving westward; then it curves around and
goes northward, its diameter increasing and the velocity of its rotation
decreasing, and finally it edges off over the New England States, and
goes out to sea. (See diagram.) In the southern hemisphere these storms
follow a similar track to the southward. In both hemispheres the storms
advance at from two to forty miles per hour, and it is this movement
which is uncertain and which requires close watching.

The storms which come from the far West are less understood. One theory
is that they go around the world; and some of them have been traced all
the way around, except in Asia, where there are no observers. These
storms cross the United States in three ways. Sometimes they come in by
way of Alaska, sometimes further down the Pacific coast, and again by
Lower California. They usually lose some of their force when they reach
the middle of the continent. From that point they are very likely to
move to the Lake region, where they acquire a fresh supply of vapor and
energy, and finally go off to the Atlantic by way of the St. Lawrence
River. The observers keep posted as to their path by watching the
premonitory rainfall and the succeeding low barometer.

Cold waves also have ways of their own, and the observers have learned
them. The waves come in from three different points--northwest, west,
and southwest. Those from the northwest often move directly east, and in
that case the cold weather is not likely to extend south of the Ohio
River. Sometimes, however, they move in a southeasterly direction, and
then the whole country east of the Mississippi is affected. Those which
come in from the southwest usually extend in a north-easterly direction.
In these cases there are large decreases in temperature at Shreveport,
St. Louis, and such places, before Chicago is affected.

Thus I have given you the outlines of the data from which the Weather
Bureau predicts what kind of a day it will be to-morrow. The observers
could tell more than they do now if they could only keep track of the
storms when they are out on the ocean. But unfortunately there is no
method by which stations can be maintained on the face of the great
deep. The weather students are compelled to do the best they can with
such information as they can obtain from ship captains, and this is not
constant or systematic, and is therefore far from satisfactory. The
value of the information which the service furnishes to the sailors is,
on the other hand, very great. The steamers of the regular lines, of
course, sail as they are advertised to do, without considering the
weather; but they know what to expect, and can be prepared for it.
Sailing-vessels, however, often avoid heavy weather and even danger at
sea by heeding the warnings of the observers. You and I just take our
umbrellas with us when the probabilities are rain, but the sailor stays
in his harbor and lets the cyclone get well out to sea ahead of him
before he sets sail.

[Illustration: "FARMER" DUNN'S HOME.]



[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]


The mile run is about the only long-distance event practised by American
school and college athletes. In England the three-mile race is popular,
and is one of the standard events of the inter-university field
meetings, but it has not as yet been adopted in this country. At the
International games last fall it was on the card, and Conneff won for
the New York Athletic Club. Since then there has been some talk of
placing the event on the Inter-collegiate schedule, but the proposition
was defeated at a recent meeting of the Executive Committee of the
I.C.A.A.A.A.

[Illustration: T. P. CONNEFF'S STRIDE IN THE MILE RUN.]

Training for the mile run may be begun at almost any time of the year,
but it is presumed in all these short sketches that training will be
started in the winter-time and developed in the spring. Preliminary work
in long-distance running is of the simplest kind, consisting merely of
walking and running at a slow jog four or five miles every day until the
spring season has fairly set in. For this kind of work the best costume
to wear are knickerbockers, heavy shoes and stockings, a flannel shirt,
and a sweater. This walking and running across country will harden the
muscles and gradually develop staying powers, which can be acquired in
no other way.

When the weather has become warm enough to go on the track in light
running costume, the following scheme will be found a good one for
steady training: On the first day do a mile and a half at an easy jog;
on the second day, run a half-mile at a good pace, trying to do it in 2
min. 45 sec. (as the weeks pass by the athlete should try to reduce this
time for the half-mile down to 2 min. 30 sec. or below); on the third
day run a quarter of a mile at speed; on the fourth day cover
three-quarters of a mile at an easy jog; on the fifth day do a mile and
a half again very leisurely; on the sixth day another quarter at speed.
Always lay off on Sunday, for one day's rest a week is necessary when
training for any event.

After this method has been practised for several weeks, it will be well
to take a trial mile on time. But thereafter do not run trials more
frequently than once in ten days, and never make a trial within ten days
of the date for the race. Before a competition it is well to lay off for
two or three days, and before trying a mile on time during the practice
season it is always best to lay off the day before. In other words, do
your trial mile on Monday, Sunday being the regular lay-off day.

There is little to be said about the strategy of mile-running. The
mile-runner must know just how fast he can run, and when he goes into a
race he should cover his distances regardless of what his rivals are
doing. This is sometimes very difficult, especially for younger runners
who are not judges of pace, and who allow themselves to be run off their
feet in the first half-mile. It is true that the first half-mile is
always run at a greater speed than the second; but a well-trained
athlete, who knows exactly how fast he can do his event, should not
allow any opponent to make him go faster than he is in training for. A
number of athletes, knowing the average weakness of mile-runners, train
themselves to go a very fast half-mile at first, in the hope that they
may run their opponents, who have trained in a different way, off their
feet. Those, however, who are confident of their ability, and are judges
of pace, will frequently allow these fast fellows to get a quarter of a
lap ahead of them, knowing very well that in the second half-mile they
will be able to close up and finish strongly.

[Illustration: W. E. LUTYENS.

English Inter-University Champion.]

The accompanying pictures show the stride of Conneff--the American and
International champion--and Lutyens, the English Inter-University
champion, who was defeated by Conneff in the International games last
fall. It is plain to see that the Englishman's stride is much longer
than Conneff's; but stride does not seem to be such an important factor
in long-distance running as it is in the shorter distances. In fact, it
will be noticed that most mile-runners are short, stocky men, although,
as a rule, their legs are much longer in proportion to their bodies than
is the case with other men. Conneff runs with his mouth open the whole
distance, and, as I have already said, this is undoubtedly the best
method for runners to adopt, in spite of the old adage about breathing
through the nose. Conneff also runs with his arms hanging down, which is
by far the best way, as it relieves the chest and shoulders of the
weight of the arms (which counts in a long race), and the swinging of
the hands low down seems to give a forward impetus similar to that which
a jumper gets when he uses dumb-bells. The costume and footwear for
long-distance running are the same as for other distances, except,
perhaps, that the shoes may be made a trifle heavier if the athlete
prefers.

Training for the low hurdles is, in general, the same as that for the
high hurdles, which was described in this Department last week. The jump
over the obstacle itself, however, is radically different, and it is for
this reason that many hurdlers who are invincible over the shorter
distance are frequently defeated in the longer. It is hardly necessary
to repeat here that the low hurdles are placed twenty yards apart, and
are only 2 feet 6 inches high. The fact, however, that they are 2 feet 6
inches high only is what makes the difference in the style necessary.

[Illustration: DIAGRAM SHOWING THE PROPER (A) AND THE IMPROPER (B) LINE
ALONG WHICH THE SHOULDERS OF A LOW-HURDLER SHOULD TRAVEL.]

In clearing the low hurdles the athlete should endeavor not to jump. He
must put as little spring as possible into his effort, but should clear
the obstacle by a dexterous management of the legs. Here is where the
advantage of the double-jump exercise comes in. In the 220 race the body
of the hurdler should be kept on as constant a level as possible. In
other words, his shoulders should move along an imaginary straight line
from start to finish.

The diagram at the top of the page shows this more clearly perhaps than
any description could. The line A is the one that the shoulders should
follow; the line B shows the motion that should be avoided. With
practice this form can be readily acquired, and it adds greatly to the
speed of the hurdler. The secret of the motion is to lunge slightly
forward at the hurdle and to spread the legs to the widest angle as you
clear it. The movement is somewhat similar to that which a man would
make if he were suspended from the ceiling, his toes just touching the
floor, and a series of hurdles on a treadmill were passing under him. To
avoid being struck he would merely lift his legs, as he has learned to
do in the double jump.

In running the high hurdles the athlete may use either foot he chooses
at the take-off, although it is better to become accustomed to jump from
the right foot. It is better, because in the low hurdles the successful
man must jump from the right foot. This is made necessary by curved
tracks. There are few 220 straightaway courses; most low hurdle contests
being conducted on a curved track, and it is practically impossible to
make any speed at all on such a path when jumping from the left foot.
Jim Lee used to jump from the left foot, and for that reason he almost
never entered a contest on a curved track. He knew he could not win.

The low hurdles being placed twenty yards apart, it is of course
necessary to take a greater number of steps between obstacles. Seven
strides is the number to be aimed at, although a runner with a short
stride has to be content with nine. This sometimes necessitates slowing
up before each hurdle, which is bad; and consequently it is more
advisable to train for eight strides, in that case jumping from
alternate feet. This makes the race more complicated, and is a form that
should be avoided, although there are many men who are compelled to
adopt it.

In practice the athlete should never go over more than seven hurdles in
succession, except, perhaps, once a month for a trial on time, for the
event is too exhausting. The footwear adopted by hurdlers is similar to
the high-jumper's shoes. They are made of kangaroo-skin, and should be
slightly heavier than sprinters' shoes. The heel should be constructed
of quarter-inch leather with two spikes placed at the extremities of
diagonals drawn through the centre of the heel. This precludes the
possibility of bruising from the constant pounding on the jumping foot.
In the toes there should be the usual six spikes.

Berkeley turned the tables on Barnard by scoring thirty-four points to
the latter's fifteen at the Berkeley in-door games a week ago Saturday.
At the Barnard games a fortnight previous the Harlemites took thirty-six
points to Berkeley's thirteen. Each institution has thus presented the
other with a trophy, and both are now preparing to shake out of their
respective sleeves what they count on to win with at the
Interscholastics in May. It will be interesting, too, to see how close
they will come to one another in points at the New Manhattan Athletic
Club games on the 28th.

Irwin-Martin showed himself to be in excellent form, and broke two
in-door scholastic records--the quarter-mile and the 220-yard run. In
the quarter he took the lead from the start, and did not bother about
any of his rivals until he had finished, although Evans of Oxford School
kept pretty close to him all the way around. The half-mile run went to
Hipple of Barnard, as might have been expected, for Hipple is
undoubtedly the strongest man for this distance that has run in
interscholastic contests for a number of years.

Another Berkeley athlete who showed himself to be in excellent form was
Walker, the well-named. There is no doubt about his being the best
walker of the schools in this vicinity. He made a brave attempt for
first honors at the Interscholastics last spring, and finished an
exceedingly close second, showing that he had plenty of grit and
undoubted ability. He has vastly improved in the past nine months, and I
doubt if there is any one who can touch him in his class. He is a little
fellow, too, and must have worked very hard and conscientiously to
develop such a great amount of strength and speed, maintaining at the
same time such excellent form. At these games there were about a dozen
starters besides Walker, but at the crack of the pistol he strode to the
front, and literally walked away from the laboring bunch behind him. He
kept increasing his distance so steadily that the contest really
narrowed down to a battle for second place. This struggle was very hot
between Myers and Adams, the former barely reaching the tape ahead of
the others. Walker's time was 8 min. 13-1/5 Sec.

In the mile run Bedford took good care not to give Manvel of Pingry's a
chance, and set a 2 min. 14-1/5 sec. pace for the first half-mile, which
practically ran all the other contestants off their feet. But this pace
was hot enough even to tire Bedford, for he had to slow up considerably
in the last half, although he covered the whole distance in the
excellent time of 4 min. 54-1/5 sec.

The dashes developed several speedy runners, three of the heat winners
getting close to record time. In the final, Moore of Barnard and Doudge
of Berkeley ran a dead heat in 7-3/5 sec., but in the run-off Moore
proved himself to have the greatest staying powers, and took the event.
The hurdle-racing was also good, the winners of each of the preliminary
heats making the same time. Bien showed himself in excellent form in the
trials, but in the final heat he did not do so well, and let Herrick
pass him.

The field events were not particularly interesting. Pell tied Duval at 5
ft. 5 in. in the high jump; Young tied Irwin-Martin at 37 ft. 2 in. in
the shot; and Eddy tied Katzenbach for third place in the pole vault at
8 ft. 10-3/4 in. In each one of these instances athletics were
superseded by the less exhausting expedient of gambling, and coins
tossed into the air decided which man should take the medal.

The points made by the several schools are as follows:

  School.            First.     Second.    Third.    Total
  Berkeley           4-1/2      3-1/2       1         34
  Barnard            3          0           0         15
  St. Paul's         1          2           2         13
  Adelphi Academy    1          1           0          8
  Brooklyn High      1          1           0          8
  Pingry's           0          2           0          6
  Newark Academy     0          1           2          5
  Brooklyn Latin      1/2        1/2        0          4
  Ailing Art         0          0           1          1
  Columbia Grammar   0          0           1          1
  Cutler             0          0           1          1
  Oxford             0          0           1          1
  Pratt Institute    0          0           1          1
  Poly. Prep         0          0           1          1

St. Paul's School again made a good record on this occasion, as her
athletes did at the recent games of the Long Island Inter-scholastic
League in Brooklyn. These St. Paul athletes seem to be developing at a
rapid rate, and may be counted upon to make an excellent showing at the
New Manhattan Athletic Club games, and they will probably take a strong
membership in the team which is to represent the Long Island League in
the National Meet this spring.

  THE GRADUATE.



[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.


MARKING NEGATIVES.

It is sometimes desirable to have the name of a picture marked on the
negative so that it may appear in the finished print. This may be done
in several ways. One of the simplest is to write the name backwards in
India ink on the film side of the negative. This should be done with a
fine drawing-pen, and the lettering made in one of the lower corners. As
the title appears white in the finished print the writing should be done
where the glass is clear or in the deepest shadows.

To have the name appear in black on the print, take a fine steel needle,
and having first marked the letters lightly with a pencil, scratch the
letters through the film to the clear glass. Make the edges smooth, and
see that the lines of the letters are perfect, as every imperfection in
the lettering appears in the print.

One should always put his initials on a good negative. They can be put
on either in India ink or scratched through the film.

If one does not wish to write the name on the negative it can be written
on the sensitive paper before the print is made. India ink is to be
preferred, but good black ink will do. The ink will wash off in the
toning solution, leaving the name clear and distinct on the print.

An ink for writing on photographic prints may be made by taking 2 ounces
potassium iodide, 6 ounces distilled water, half an ounce gum-arabic,
1-1/2 drams iodide. This is used for writing on the dark part of
photographic prints.

     SIR KNIGHT JAMES G. ZIMMERMAN sends a photograph of a flash of
     lightning, and wishes to know if the picture is printed right, if
     there is any use for such a photograph, and if it is necessary to
     have it copyrighted before having it reproduced. The printing of
     the picture is correct. Pictures of this kind are useful for
     meteorological purposes. It was not till the introduction of
     instantaneous photography that the shape of a flash was known.
     Artists always drew pictures of a lightning's flash in zigzag lines
     with sharp angles, whereas instantaneous photographs prove that the
     electric fluid forms a curve and never an acute angle. The enclosed
     picture is an excellent one, and shows several distinct loops in
     the line of the electricity, something very unusual. It is not
     necessary to have a picture copyrighted before having it
     reproduced. The use of the copyright is to protect the owner of the
     picture from others making use of it without his consent.

     SIR KNIGHT ERNEST BRIGGS asks for a formula to use with
     under-exposed plates. Sir Ernest will find formula in No. 839
     (November 26).

     SIR KNIGHT JAMES H. HARTLEY, 33 Temple Street, Paterson, N.J., says
     that he would like to exchange prints with other members of the
     club, and that he has some good views of Passaic Falls. Sir James
     is informed that his first request, which he says he sent some time
     ago, did not reach the editor.



ADVERTISEMENTS.



Arnold

Constable & Co

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DEPARTMENT

SPRING FASHIONS.

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Dress Skirts,

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TO MAKE THE BEST FOOD.


Mrs. Ellen H. Richards, Instructor in Sanitary Chemistry in the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, says: "Baking powders prepared
from soda and cream of tartar chiefly are, when put up in tin cans with
the maker's name and label, much more reliable than any other form of
bread-raising preparation."

Many receipts are given in cook-books and newspapers for making biscuit,
cake, muffins, crusts, etc., in the old-fashioned way with sour milk and
soda, or cream of tartar and soda. In every such receipt much better
results will be obtained by substituting the Royal Baking Powder for the
sour milk or cream of tartar and soda. Exactly the same
gas--carbonic--is produced, but with the Royal Baking Powder there is
avoided all alkalinity or acidity in the food, one of which always
results from the old-fashioned methods because of the impossibility of
mixing the cream of tartar and the soda or sour milk in the proper
proportions. Besides, the cream of tartar bought from the shops by the
housekeeper is always impure, frequently containing alum, lime, and
sulphuric acid, while the cream of tartar employed in the manufacture of
the Royal Baking Powder is specially refined and chemically pure. With
the use of the Royal, therefore, the food is rendered not only more
perfect in appearance and taste, but more wholesome.--_Household
Journal_.



  Cock-a-doodle doo--
    My dame has lost her shoe;
  But CUPID Hair-Pins held her hair--
    Or she'd have lost that too.

Its in the TWIST.

[Illustration]

By the makers

of the famous DELONG

Hook and Eye.

[Illustration]

Richardson & DeLong Bros.,

Philadelphia.



Harper's Catalogue,

Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent by mail to any
address on receipt of ten cents.



CARDS

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



[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYE WATER]



[Illustration: BICYCLING]

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


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

The maps which will be given for the next few weeks will have as their
principal object the usual trip from Albany to Buffalo. At the same time
they have been prepared in such a way, by giving the dotted routes, as
to show all the roads in the vicinity of this general route which are in
the best condition for bicyclists, so that, while we give only the
details of the direct route, any one desiring to turn off at any point
to reach some special town or city will be able to find for himself the
most suitable route.

The bicyclist will therefore notice on the present map that the best
route along the Hudson north of Albany, through Waterford, etc., is
given; that it is possible to run out towards Schenectady, through
Guilderland, and though the road becomes poorer beyond there, it is
nevertheless in reasonable condition most of the way; that while the
best route from Schenectady on towards Fonda and Utica runs on the
southern bank of the river and crosses at Hoffman's Ferry to the north
bank, there is nevertheless a moderately good road following the other
side of the river and keeping along the canal and the railroad. In other
words, while it is our purpose to describe a general route, there is
also the secondary purpose of giving maps containing all good roads in
the vicinity of these longer trips.

Leaving the Kenmore Hotel in Albany, proceed by the shortest way to
Broadway, and on this till the Londonville Plank Road is reached;
turning left into this, proceed through Londonville and Newtonville to
Lathams. This is a little more than seven miles from the hotel, and at
this point a shairp turn to the left should be made and the road
followed to Watervliet Centre. From Watervliet, through Niskayuna, to
Schenectady, is straight level road, none too well suited to the
bicyclist, as it occasionally has somewhat difficult sandy spots, though
the bulk of the road is, in good weather, firm clay and gravel.
Schenectady is twenty miles from the Kenmore Hotel at Albany, and a stop
can be made here, if desired, at the Barhydt Hotel, where, if you are a
member of the L. A. W., you can procure somewhat less rates than the
ordinary traveller. If you wish to reach Fonda in one day from Albany,
it is well to refrain from stopping at Schenectady.

Leaving the city still on the south side of the river, follow along near
the canal to Pattersonville, ten miles to the west. The road becomes
somewhat more hilly, but it is in fair condition. At Pattersonville turn
down to Hoffman's Ferry and cross to the north bank of the river;
thence, turning to the left, follow the road running along by the New
York Central Railroad tracks to Cranesville, and thence, over some hilly
country, continue to Amsterdam, always keeping parallel with the
railroad. This stretch between Hoffman's Ferry and Amsterdam is a
somewhat poorer road, there being some sand and less clay and gravel
than heretofore, and in some places some very considerable hills.
Amsterdam is thirty-three miles from Albany, and here a stop may be
made, the Hotel Warner being the best place for a wheelman to stop at.
The run from Amsterdam through Tribes Hill, always in the vicinity of
the river and the railroad, to Fonda is fifteen miles further. The road
continues in parts somewhat sandy, and there are some hills, especially
beyond Tribes Hill; but taken together, the run from Albany is not a bad
one. If the wheelman is in no great hurry, a very interesting run may be
made by leaving the route towards Buffalo at Fonda, and riding
twenty-three miles out through Johnstown, Gloversville, Mayfield,
Cranberry Creek, Gifford, to Sacandaga Park, which is a famous fishing
place.



[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.


How can I make my room pretty without spending money on it, I haven't
much of that, writes one of my correspondents.

I have seen very ugly rooms on which people had spent heaps of money,
and there are lovely ones which have cost their owners very little
beyond good taste and the exercise of common-sense and care. In the
first place, cleanliness in a room is in itself a great beauty. Make war
on every bit of dust, every cobweb, every speck and stain. A perfectly
clean room, although quite bare of ornament, is inviting, and when its
owner puts in her little individual touches, her books on a hanging
shelf, which her brother can make for her, or which she can buy for
forty or fifty cents, her favorite engravings, cut from illustrated
papers if she chooses and simply tacked on the wall, her pot of
primroses on the window-sill, her toilet table draped with white net
over pink silesia, her plain scrim curtains at the window tied back with
bits of ribbon, the room will be dainty and pretty enough to please the
most fastidious. If you have not much to do with, manage with what you
have, is a good rule for girls to follow.

A carpet is by no means a necessity in any sleeping-room. In fact, many
people prefer a stained or painted floor, with a rug which may be easily
lifted and shaken. A small wooden rocking-chair, a table or stand for a
candlestick, a two-leaved screen, which you can make yourself, and a
little rack over your washstand for your towels, and then, with a nicely
made bed, the room will be complete.

One's own room is so dear to every girl that I do not wonder she prizes
it. One must have hours when it is a pleasure to be alone. One likes to
be by herself at times, to think and read and plan. After a little space
of solitude we go back to others rested and cheered. Where sisters share
the same apartment, each should have her corner, divided from the other
part of the room either by curtains or by screens, so that when they
prefer to be alone they may be so. In some schools which I have known
there are twenty-minute or half-hour intervals during the day, when
every pupil is required to be by herself, and in home life girls who can
should try to adopt a similar rule.

And cannot you contrive, girlies, to give your dear mothers the same
chance to take a rest all by their precious selves every day.

When mamma goes to her chamber and shuts the door, you, I am sure, can
take care that the little ones do not disturb her privacy; you can
entertain the caller or dispose of the person who comes on a business
errand. The mater will gain new life if her daughters secure for her
this little daily space, and I am sure they will at least make the
effort.

     CHARLOTTE BLAND.--For an afghan large enough to cover a lounge you
     will require three pounds of worsted, if you crochet it, as the
     crochet-needle takes up a great deal of work; a knitted afghan will
     take less wool, and I think two pounds will be sufficient

     DORA T.--If your hands are rough and chapped use cold cream on them
     at night, and sleep in a loose pair of gloves. An old pair of
     brother Tom's will answer the purpose. You should be careful to
     wash your hands in warm water only during cold weather, and to dry
     them thoroughly before going out. Rose-water and glycerine in equal
     parts makes a nice lotion for the hands. Rose-water diluted with
     ordinary rain water is very soothing to the eyes.

     ARLINE.--A white and gold room is very pretty on the sunless side
     of the house, and it can be easily managed without much expense if
     you have clever fingers and good taste.

[Illustration: Signature]



ADVERTISEMENTS.



10 TIMES OUT OF 10

[Illustration]

The New York Journal recently offered ten bicycles to the ten winners in
a guessing contest, leaving the choice of machine to each.

ALL OF THEM

CHOSE

[Illustration: Columbia Bicycles]

Standard of the World.

Nine immediately, and one after he had looked at others. And the Journal
bought ten Columbias. Paid $100 each for them, too. On even terms a
Columbia is chosen

10 TIMES OUT OF 10

POPE MFG. CO., Hartford, Conn.



[Illustration: HARTFORD Single Tube TIRE]



WALTER BAKER & CO., LIMITED.

Established Dorchester, Mass., 1780.

Breakfast Cocoa

[Illustration]

Always ask for Walter Baker & Co.'s

Breakfast Cocoa

Made at

DORCHESTER, MASS.

It bears their Trade Mark

"La Belle Chocolatiere" on every can.

Beware of Imitations.



HOOPING

COUGH

CROUP

_Can be cured_

by using

ROCHE'S HERBAL

EMBROCATION

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



Postage Stamps, &c.



[Illustration]

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.



WILL exchange for old North and South American and old European stamps,
recent issues of Singapore, Johore, Perak, Selangor, and other stamps.

Address =W. T. KENSETT, M. D.=,

Singapore, Straits Settlements, Foreign Postage.



$117.50 WORTH OF STAMPS FREE

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

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



[Illustration]

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



=FREE.=--A good Hawaiian stamp given to all sending for my fine approval
sheets. Liberal com. Sets a specialty. 100 stamps, 15c. MILLARD H.
CUTTER, 266 E. Huron St., Chicago, Ill.



FOREIGN STAMPS ON APPROVAL.

Agents wanted at 50% com. Lists free.

CHAS. B. RAUD, New London, Conn.



FREE 10 VARIETIES; to all sending for approval sheets 50% commission.
References required.

FRANK W. ALDEN, Waterville, Maine.



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.



[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYEWATER]



[Illustration: MR. CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN]


On the 2d of March, at his home in Brookline, Massachusetts, hardly more
than a fortnight after his golden-wedding anniversary, Mr. Charles
Carleton Coffin passed away. He died suddenly, and so escaped the pain
and weariness of lingering illness. Some readers of the ROUND TABLE who
were in the great throng of young people in the New York Building at the
World's Fair, when we kept our first reunion in the beautiful White
City, no doubt remember Mr. Coffin as one of the speakers on that happy
occasion. With Kirk Munroe, Charles Dudley Warner, and others, Mr.
Coffin was present then, and he said several things which made a deep
impression on my mind as I looked over the sea of bright young faces
gathered under our starry flag. He told the boys that they owed
something to their country, that they must grow up prepared to be her
lovers and defenders, to stand up for her through all things, and to be
good true citizens, and Americans who cared for America wherever they
might go.

What Mr. Coffin said that day with his voice so eloquently he had been
saying in print for many years. He wrote nineteen books, all of them the
gift of a fine mind and true heart, to the boys and girls of America.
The names of these books are familiar to you, and the very titles are
attractive, as, for example, _My Days and Nights on the Battle-field_,
_Following the Flag_, _Winning his Way_, _The Boys of '76_, _Our New Way
'Round the World_, and similar stirring and suggestive names. Among Mr.
Coffin's delightfully exciting volumes, I am very fond of _The Story of
Liberty_, a book which carries us back to old England, and shows us the
cradle of our American freedom in the mother-land. Mr. Coffin had the
rare art of standing outside his story and letting it tell itself. He
marshalled its incidents and events with historic accuracy, and so made
his narrative always useful and acceptable as supplementary reading to
the boy or girl who was studying a period at school, but he also allowed
his people to speak and act in a natural way. His books unroll like the
panorama at the show, and a very satisfactory panorama they are, ideally
painted for the library of young America.

Personally Mr. Coffin was full of enthusiasm and enjoyment in his work,
and he cared a great deal for his youthful audience. He did not
under-rate their intelligence and write down to them. He took it for
granted that our young people are intelligent and interested in both
work and play, and his books paid them the compliment of dealing with
serious themes, though always in a sprightly manner. All his books are
so beautifully illustrated that they are really fine picture galleries,
in which one sees how people dressed, how buildings and streets looked,
and how houses were furnished in the times of which Mr. Coffin wrote.

A man who spent his life in such a beautiful way, writing books so
worthy, and never writing a sentence one would wish omitted, bestowed a
great gift on his period. His books will live and continue to give
pleasure to hosts of young people, to whom Mr. Coffin will be a guide
and friend in years to come, for the author of a good book never dies.

       *       *       *       *       *

Winter News from Jamaica.

     It is our winter now in the shape of north winds and cold rains,
     beginning in November and ending in March or April, and we
     thoroughly detest them.

     I would like to know something about Lord Byron. My great-uncle was
     at school with him, and I would like to know about him, as I have
     never read anything about him, or scarcely ever read anything of
     his.

     I have a dear little kitten now--a tortoise-shell. He is very
     funny. Last night his mother, Trilby, was very uneasy till we let
     her out. Then after we had shut the door my kitty became unhappy
     too. So my father opened the door, and cat and kitten ran against
     each other. Trilby had a nice fat rat. We suppose she must have
     smelt it outside. Her child's name is Tony. He hates Tipsy, my
     little dog, and poor Tipsy is so frightened of it, and always walks
     away when she sees the dear fluffy pet. Would it bother dear Mrs.
     Sangster if I wanted her autograph? I love HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, as
     I am sure all members of the Order do.

     I have eleven Seychells stamps, and two Sicilies, of which I am
     very proud. The 1_d_. blue Jamaica, cut in half, is, I believe, not
     in any catalogue, though it is perfectly genuine. I have a lovely
     Lilium Speciosa open now. My aunt gave it to me. The other day we
     caught a mongoose in a trap, but before my father could shoot it,
     Tipsy and Bennie, her child, had killed it. Poor Tipsy in the
     excitement of killing sent her own sharp tooth right through her
     lip. It must have hurt her dreadfully. I have about 2500 stamps.
     The other "Round-Tablers" have helped me a lot.

  NELLIE STEPHENS.
  RADNOR, HAGLEY GAP, JAMAICA, W. I.

Mrs. Sangster will send her autograph if you ask her.

       *       *       *       *       *

How Shingles are Made.

     In making shingles on a large scale the logs are first cut into
     blocks by what is termed the "band" saw. They are then taken to the
     "knee-bolter," where the bark and sap are cut off, making the
     blocks smooth on all sides. From the knee-bolter they are carried
     to the "power-feed machine," where a piece is cut out at each
     movement that is the exact thickness of the shingle. They then drop
     into a "carrier," where they are transported to the "knot-sawyers,"
     who cut out all knots and even up the edges. They are then packed
     into bunches, whence they are taken to the "dry kiln" to dry. Only
     the "red-cedar shingle" is manufactured in this (the southwestern)
     part of the State. Every bunch has to be weighed when taken from
     the dry kiln, after which it is loaded on cars and shipped to
     different parts of the United States. The average mill employs from
     twelve to twenty men.

  RUEL M. NIMS.
  COSMOPOLIS, WASH.

       *       *       *       *       *

Questions and Answers.

C. Arnold Kruckman, 1235 North Thirteenth Street, St. Louis, is a bright
"Shut-in," and wants to join a literary club as a corresponding member,
and to contribute to amateur papers. The N.A.P.A., dear Sir Arnold, is
a national association of young persons who publish or contribute to
amateur papers. It has a full set of officers, elected annually.
Besides, there are, in close affiliation with the National Association,
local or district associations, as the Pacific, the Maryland, the New
England, etc., each having its own officers. Indeed, so many officers
are there that one has to get pretty well into the "dom" in order to
tell off-hand who is who, and where all belong. If you fail to hear from
President Hancock of the National Association, write to Edgar R. Bauer,
3328 South Ninth Street, your city, to Fred W. Arnold, 3221 State
Street, Chicago, or to Charles R. Burger, Colorado Springs, Col.

       *       *       *       *       *

H. Barker asks how to make a strong but cheap battery to operate an
electric bell. It is better to buy than to make a battery, because
cheaper. You can get from Bonnell & Co., New York, a good cell for
seventy-five cents that will last a long time, and it is what is called
a "dry" battery, hence it does not overflow. If you must make one, you
will find the "dry" kind expensive, so make a gravity one. Take a glass
candy jar and put into the bottom some old copper, any shape. To it
attach covered wire, leading out of the jar. Suspend about the middle a
piece of zinc, and fasten to it a second wire. Pour lukewarm water in
until the zinc is well covered, and drop into it a dozen bits of blue
vitriol (sulphate of copper). Let stand for two or three days, cleaning
the zinc with a brush daily. Lester L. Riley, 929 East Fifth Street,
Dayton, O., wants to send to publishers of amateur papers some stories,
poems, etc. Who wants them? W. Randall Sperlock, 3108 Imogene Avenue,
Mt. Auburn, Cincinnati, O., is desirous of procuring a copy of HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE, No. 640, dated February 2, 1892. Who can sell it to him?

       *       *       *       *       *

Edward D. Cassin: Tuition in the large colleges varies from $40 to $150
a year. Select your college and apply to the Dean for rates. Military
academies are located at many points--Manlius, N. Y., Chester, Pa.,
Cornwall, N. Y., etc. See list of them in the advertising pages of
HARPER'S MAGAZINE. Subjects embraced in the New York Regents'
examination are some twenty in number. For full information, which would
require this entire page to give you here, apply to Melvil Dewey,
Secretary of the State Board of Regents, Albany. The price of the
papers, with full explanations, is twenty-five cents. The principal of
your school is likely to possess a copy.



[Illustration: STAMPS]

     This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin
     collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question
     on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address
     Editor Stamp Department.


The new Cuban Republic, it is understood, has made arrangements with
parties in New York city for the printing of bonds and postage-stamps.
As yet no designs for stamps have been seen.

In the past few months I have had occasion to examine a large number of
stamps, and several collections belonging to members of the "Round
Table." I am sorry to say that a great many of the stamps show that they
have not been handled with the care they should have had, especially in
the matter of hinges, or "stickers." These are seemingly very
insignificant things, and any dealer will supply hinges for 10c. per
1000, while for 15c. a very superior quality can be obtained. Home-made
hinges frequently injure the stamps through chemicals in the gum or
paste making a change in the color of the stamp. Of course the majority
of stamps I have seen have been very common stamps, but every collector
should take as great pains in the mounting of common stamps as of the
most valuable specimens. I advise you to use the best hinges that can be
obtained. Their cost is insignificant, and they will save you many
damaged stamps.

I have sometimes been asked to recommend Philatelic publications. This
has led me to investigate as to the number of Philatelic publications
that have been issued up to date. I find that their number is at least
16,000, and probably 20,000 in all. Of these about one-half are in the
English language, and most of these have been issued in America. Nearly
one-third are in the German language. The balance is distributed among
the French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, etc. Most Philatelic journals have
ended their career before the end of the first volume, and very few
survive a second year.

     C. C. DUNNING, Wrightsville, Pa., wants to exchange rare coins.

     J. F. HAMMOND, Harford, N.Y., wants to exchange stamps.

     J. HALL.--Beware of counterfeit grilled stamps. They are apt to
     deceive any one not an expert.

     J. SCHMIDTBERGER.--Only 363 sets of the U. S. State Department $5,
     $10, and $20 stamps were made. They should be of equal value, but
     they are not. The $5 is worth the other three together.

     J. A. RAYCE.--English stamps are often marked by perforations in
     the form of initials. This is done to prevent theft, as the owners
     can prove their property.

     J. O'NEAL.--Your gold coins have no premiums. You can get a coin
     book through any dealer.

     B. B. MORRIS.--The 1857 "flying eagle" is worth 5c. if it has been
     circulated but still in fine condition. The 1856 "flying eagle" is
     worth $4.

     SQUIRE REICK.--No premium.

     READER.--Take the offer of $1 for the 1822 silver half-dollar. You
     can do no better.

     A. PARRISH.--I cannot tell you what advertisers mean by "good," but
     I should say they do not mean uncancelled.

     R. N. KOFOID.--It is not advisable to take Revenue stamps from
     legal documents, unless these documents of themselves have no value
     at this time.

     J. KOLB.--Afghanistan postage-stamps, either used or unused, are
     very scarce. It is almost an impossibility to obtain a perfect used
     copy, for the reason that the postage officials in Afghanistan
     construe their instructions to cancel the stamps used for postage
     by tearing out a piece of the same, therefore genuinely used stamps
     from this country can be obtained in no other form.

  PHILATUS.



[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

    A bath as cleansing, sweet and mild
  As Ivory makes it, always seems
    To bring such comfort, that the child
  Drops fast asleep with happy dreams.

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



PRINTING OUTFIT 10c.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: G. A. R. 25c.]

[Illustration: Brownies 10c.]

For printing cards, marking linen, books, etc. Contains everything shown
in cut. Type, Tweezers, Holder, Indelible Ink, Ink Pad, etc. Thoroughly
practical for business or household use and a most instructive
amusement. Sent with catalogue illustrating over 1000 Tricks and
Novelties, for 10c. in stamps to pay postage and packing on outfit and
catalogue. Same outfit with figures 15c. Large outfit for printing two
lines 25c.

=Brownie Rubber Stamps=--A set of 6 grotesque little people with ink pad;
price, postpaid, 10c.

G. A. R. series Rubber Stamps, 12 characters. Makes all kinds of
Battles, Encampments and other military pictures, 25c. postpaid. Address

ROBERT H. INGERSOLL & BRO,

Dep't No. 62, 65 Cortlandt St., New York.



There's no doubt about the advisability of riding a wheel--the only
question now is what wheel to ride.

Monarch

King of Bicycles,

represents cycle manufacture in its highest development. A wheel with
which no fault can be found.

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

[Illustration]

MONARCH

CYCLE MFG. CO.,

Lake, Halsted and Fulton Sts., CHICAGO.

83 Reade St., NEW YORK.



BREAKFAST--SUPPER.

EPPS'S

GRATEFUL--COMFORTING.

COCOA

BOILING WATER OR MILK.



DOLL CLOTHES

Eleven Complete Patterns (all separate), for every article of Dolly's
clothing, with full directions for making, and one yard of fine lace,
all sent to any address for =only Ten Cents= (silver or stamps). Address

DOLL SUPPLY HOUSE, East 51st St., Bayonne, N. J.



A NEAT BOX, containing 12 mineral specimens from Millard County, Utah,
including genuine gold and silver ore, copper, onyx, etc., postpaid to
any address for 25 cts. J. A. ROBINSON, Clear Lake, Utah.



CARDS

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



[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYE WATER]



_NOW READY._

Tommy Toddles

     By ALBERT LEE. Illustrated by PETER S. NEWELL. Square 16mo, Cloth,
     Ornamental, $1.25.

The wonderful adventures of a small boy who wanders through a fantastic
country in search of the wooden animals that have come to life and
strayed away from a Noah's Ark are described in a humorous and
imaginative style that will amuse older heads, while the peculiar
incidents of the narrative cannot fail to bring delight to every
youngster. There is a good leaven of light verse to the tale, which,
with the illustrations in Mr. Newell's happiest vein, make the book a
welcome addition to juvenile literature.

       *       *       *       *       *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.



AN AFRICAN STRATAGEM.


[Illustration: TURTLE. "IT'S SIMPLE ENOUGH TO GET RID OF HIM. YOU HIDE,
AND WATCH ME."]

[Illustration: TURTLE (_loq_.). "AN UNCONSCIOUS AIR--]

[Illustration: DECEIVES MAN, AND--]

[Illustration: RIDS ME OF TWO DANGERS AT ONCE."]

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE CIRCUS.

KANGAROO. "You had great luck last year getting your trunk through the
custom-house without paying a duty."

ELEPHANT. "Never mind; you have your chance this year."

KANGAROO. "What do you mean?"

ELEPHANT. "Don't you know this is leap-year?"

       *       *       *       *       *

MOTHER. "What are you going to do with that _ear_ of corn?"

BOBBY. "I'm going to eat it, so's I'll be sure to hear you call
to-morrow morning."

       *       *       *       *       *

WILLIE I-WONT-PLAY.

  Wilful Willie I-Wont-Play
  Always wants to have his way;
  With him it is _I_ or _me_,
  Whatsoe'er the sport may be--
  Prisoner's Goal or Pull-away,--
  Wilful Willie I-Wont-Play.

  If another faster run,
  Though the game be just begun,
  Then he'll pout and sulk and scowl,
  Gloomy as a day-caught owl,
  Spoil the whole glad holiday,--
  Wilful Willie I-Wont-Play.

  Where's the boy would be like him,
  Stout of arm and strong of limb,
  Hearty as a sailor, yet
  Ever in a selfish pet?
  Shame upon his head, I say,
  Wilful Willie I-Wont-Play!

  CLINTON SCOLLARD.

       *       *       *       *       *

TEACHER. "Now, children, what is the first meal you eat every day?"

GREAT CHORUS OF CHILDREN. "Oat-meal."

       *       *       *       *       *

MAMMA. "My dear, you've been out to luncheon every day this week; can't
you stay at home just for once?"

ETHEL. "But, mamma, I'm trying to keep Lent."

       *       *       *       *       *

TOMMY (_impatiently_). "I wish I were Billy Barlow."

MAMMA. "But Billy hasn't any dear little brothers and sisters."

TOMMY. "That is just where he's in luck; he doesn't have to be an
example to them all the time."

       *       *       *       *       *

At a temperance gathering during the recent campaign an orator
exclaimed: "The glorious work will never be accomplished until the good
ship _Temperance_ shall sail from one end of the land to the other, and
with a cry of 'Victory!' at each step she takes, shall plant her banner
in every city, town, and village of the United States." Another speaker
said that "All along the untrodden paths of the future we can see the
hidden footprints of an unseen hand."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

BETTER OUT THAN IN.

TEACHER. "JONATHAN, YOU MAY SPELL YACHT."

JONATHAN. "Y-A-H-T."

TEACHER. "ISN'T THERE A 'C' IN IT?"

JONATHAN. "DEFENDS ON TH' WEATHER, MA'AM."





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