## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Harper's Round Table, June 23, 1896

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Title: Harper's Round Table, June 23, 1896

Author: Various

Release date: November 8, 2018 [eBook #58252]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Annie R. McGuire

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, JUNE 23, 1896 ***

A VIRGINIA CAVALIER.
HOW MAGIC IS MADE.
THE HIDDEN TREASURE OF KING OBANI.
RICK DALE.
BLIND-MAN'S-BUFF AT SEA.
THE SLAMBANGAREE.
INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT.
BICYCLING.
THE PUDDING STICK.
THE CAMERA CLUB.
STAMPS.

[Pg 813]

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers. All Rights Reserved.

published weekly. | NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JUNE 23, 1896. | five cents a copy.
vol. xvii.—no. 869. |  | two dollars a year.

## A VIRGINIA CAVALIER.

### BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.

### CHAPTER II.

he full flood of the sun, now low in the heavens, poured through the western windows upon the figure of the boy standing in the doorway. The room was beginning to darken, and the ruddy firelight, too, fell glowingly upon him.

The Earl was instantly roused, and could scarcely persuade himself that the boy before him was only fifteen; seventeen, or even eighteen, would have seemed nearer the mark, so tall and well-developed was he. Like all creatures of the highest breeding, George looked handsomer the handsomer his dress; and although his costume was really simple enough, he had the splendid air that made him always appear to be in the highest fashion. His coat and knee-breeches were of dark blue cloth, spun, woven, and dyed at home. His waistcoat, however, was of white brocade, and was made of his mother's wedding-gown, Madam Washington having indulged her pride so far as to lay this treasured garment aside for waistcoats for her sons, while Mistress Betty was to inherit the lace veil and the string of pearls which had gone with the gown.

George's shoebuckles and knee-buckles were much finer than the Earl's, being of paste, and having been once worn by his father. His blond hair was made into a club and tied with a black ribbon, while under his arm he carried a smart three-cornered hat—for the hat made a great figure in the ceremonious bows of the period. His dog; a beautiful creature, stood beside him.

Never in all his life had the Earl of Fairfax seen so noble[Pg 814] a boy. The sight of him smote the older man's heart; it flashed through him how easy it would be to exchange all his honors and titles for such a son. He rose and saluted him, as Madam Washington said, in a tone that had pride in every accent,

"My lord, this is my son, Mr. Washington."

George responded with one of those graceful inclinations which, years after, made the entrance of Colonel Washington at the Earl of Dunmore's levee at Williamsburg a lesson in grace and good-breeding. Being "Mr. Washington" and the head of the house, it became his duty to speak first:

"I am most happy to welcome you, my lord, to our home."

"And I am most happy," said the Earl, "to meet once more my old friend Madam Washington, and the goodly sons and sweet daughter with which she has been blessed."

"My mother has often told us of you, sir, in speaking of her life during the years she spent in England."

"Ah, my lord," said Madam Washington, "I perceive I am no longer young, for I love to dwell upon those times, and to tell my children of the great men I met in England, chiefly through your lordship's kindness."

"It was my good fortune," said the Earl, "to be a humble member of the Spectator Club, and through the ever-lasting goodness of Mr. Joseph Addison I had the advantage of knowing men so great of soul and so luminous of mind that I think I can never forget them."

"I had not the honor of knowing Mr. Addison. He died before I ever saw England," replied Madam Washington.

"Unfortunately, yes, madam. But of those you knew, Mr. Pope, poor Captain Steele, and even Dean Swift, with all his ferocious wit, his tremendous invective, his savage thirst for place and power, respected Mr. Addison. He was a man of great dignity—not odd and misshapen, like little Mr. Pope, not frowsy like poor Dick Steele, nor rude and overbearing like the fierce Dean—but ever gentle, mild, and of a most manly bearing. For all Mr. Addison's mildness, I think there was no man that Dean Swift feared so much. When we would all meet at the club, and the Dean would begin his railing at persons of quality—for he always chose that subject when I was present—Mr. Addison would listen with a smile to the Dean as he lolled over the table in his huge periwig and roared out in his great rich voice all the sins of all the people, always beginning and ending with Sir Robert Walpole, whom he hated most malignantly. Once, a pause coming in the Dean's talk, Mr. Addison, calmly taking out his snuff-box and helping himself to a pinch, remarked that he had always thought Dean Swift's chiefest weakness, until he had been assured to the contrary, was his love for people of quality. We each held our breath. Dick Steele quietly removed a pewter mug from the Dean's elbow; Mr. Pope, who sat next Mr. Addison, turned pale and slipped out of his chair; the Dean turned red and breathed hard, glaring at Mr. Addison, who only smiled a little; and then he—the great Dean Swift, the man who could make governments tremble and Parliaments afraid; who made duchesses weep from his rude sneers, and great ladies almost go down on their knees to him—sneaked out of the room at this little thrust from Mr. Addison. For 'twas the man, madam—the honest soul of him—that could cow that great swashbuckler of a genius. Mr. Addison abused no one, and he was exactly what he appeared to be."

"That, indeed, is the highest praise, as it shows the highest wisdom," answered Madam Washington.

George listened with all his mind to this. He had read the Spectator, and Mr. Addison's tragedy of Cato had been read to him by Mr. Hobby, the Scotch schoolmaster who taught him, and he loved to hear of these great men. The Earl, although deep in talk with Madam Washington, was by no means unmindful of the boy, but, without seeming to notice him, watched every expression of his earnest face.

"I once saw Dean Swift," continued Madam Washington. "It was at a London rout, where I went with my brother's wife, Madam Joseph Ball, when we were visiting in London. He had great dark eyes, and sat in a huge chair, and called ladies of quality 'my dear,' as if they were dairy-maids. And the ladies seemed half to like it and half to hate it. They told me that two ladies had died of broken hearts for him."

"I believe it to be true," replied the Earl. "That was the last time the Dean ever saw England. He went to Ireland, and, as he said, 'commenced Irishman in earnest,' and died very miserably. He could not be bought for money, but he could very easily be bribed with power."

"And that poor Captain Steele?"

The Earl's grave face was suddenly illuminated with a smile.

"Dear Dick Steele—the softest-hearted, bravest, gentlest fellow—always drunk, and always repenting. There never was so great a sermon preached on drunkenness as Dick Steele himself was. But for drink he would have been one of the happiest, as he was by nature one of the best and truest gentlemen in the world; but he was weak, and he was in consequence forever miserable. Drink brought him to debts and duns and prison and rags and infamy. Ah, madam, 'twould have made your heart bleed, as it made mine, to see poor Dick reeling along the street, dirty, unkempt, his sword bent, and he scarce knowing what he was doing; and next day, at home, where his wife and children were in hunger and cold and poverty, behold him, lying in agony on his wretched bed, weeping, groaning, reproaching himself, and suffering tortures for one hour's wicked indulgence! Then would he turn gentleman again, and for a long time be our own dear Dick Steele—his wife smiling, his children happy. I love to think on honest Dick at these times. It was then he wrote that beautiful little book, which should be in every soldier's hands, The Christian Hero. We could always tell at the club whether Dick Steele were drunk or sober by Mr. Addison's face. When Steele was acting the beast, Mr. Addison sighed often and looked melancholy all the time, and spent his money in taking such care as he could of the poor wife and children. Poor Dick! The end came at last in drunkenness and beastliness; but before he died, for a little while, he was the Dick Steele we loved, and shall ever love."

"And Mr. Pope—the queer little gentleman—who lived at Twickenham, and was so kind to his old mother?"

"Mr. Pope was a very great genius, madam, and had he not been born crooked he would have been an admirable man; but the crook in his body seemed to make a crook in his mind. He died but last year, outliving many strong men who pitied his puny frame. But let me not disparage Mr. Pope. My Lord Chesterfield, who was a very good judge of men, as well as the first gentleman of his time, entertained a high esteem for Mr. Pope."

"I also had the honor of meeting the Earl of Chesterfield," continued Madam Washington, with animation, "and he well sustained the reputation for politeness that I had heard of him, for he made as much of me as if I had been a great lady instead of a young girl from the colonies, whom chance and the kindness of a brother had brought to England, and your lordship's goodness had introduced to many people of note. 'Tis true I saw them but for a glimpse or two, but that was enough to make me remember them forever. I have tried to teach my son Lord Chesterfield's manner of saluting ladies, in which he not only implied the deepest respect for the individual, but the greatest reverence for all women."

"That is true of my Lord Chesterfield," replied the Earl, who found it enchanting to recall these friends of his youth with whom he had lived in close intimacy, "and his manners revealed the man. He had also a monstrous pretty wit. There is a great lumbering fellow of prodigious learning, one Samuel Johnson, with whom my Lord Chesterfield has become most friendly. I never saw this Johnson myself, for he is much younger than the men of whom we are speaking; but I hear from London that he is a wonder of learning, and although almost indigent, will not accept aid from his friends, but works manfully for the booksellers. He has described my Lord Chesterfield as 'a wit among lords, and a lord among wits.' I heard something of this Dr. Johnson, in a late letter from London, that I think most praiseworthy, and affording a good example to the young. His father, it seems, was a bookseller at Lichfield, where on market-days he would[Pg 815] hire a stall in the market for the sale of his wares. One market-day, when Samuel was a youth, his father, being ill and unable to go himself, directed him to fit up the book-stall in the market and attend to it during the day. The boy, who was otherwise a dutiful son, refused to do this. Many years afterwards, his father being dead, Johnson, being as he is in great repute for learning, was so preyed upon by remorse for his undutiful conduct that he went to Lichfield and stood bareheaded in the market-place, before his father's old stall, for one whole market-day, as an evidence of his sincere penitence. I hear that some of the thoughtless jeered at him, but the better class of people respected his open acknowledgment of his fault—the more so as he was in a higher worldly position than his father had ever occupied, and it showed that he was not ashamed of an honest parent because he was of a humble class. I cannot think, madam, of that great scholar, standing all day with bare, bowed head, bearing with silent dignity the remarks of the curious, the jeers of the scoffers, without in spirit taking off my hat to him."

During this story Madam Washington fixed her eyes on George, who colored slightly, but remarked, as the Earl paused:

"It was the act of a brave man and a gentleman. There are not many of us who could do it."

Just then the door opened, and Uncle Jasper, bearing a huge tray, entered. He placed it on a round mahogany table, and Madam Washington proceeded to make tea, and offered it to the Earl with her own hands.

The Earl, while drinking his tea, glanced first at George and then at pretty little Betty, who, feeling embarrassed at the notice she received, produced her sampler from her pocket and began to work demurely in cross stitch on it. Presently Lord Fairfax noticed the open harpsichord.

"I remember, madam," he said to Madam Washington, as they gravely sipped their tea together, "that you had a light hand on the harpsichord."

"I have never touched it since my husband's death," answered she, "but my daughter Betty can perform with some skill."'

Mistress Betty, obeying a look from her mother, rose at once and went to the harpsichord, never thinking of the ungraceful and disobliging protest of more modern days. She seated herself, and struck boldly into "The Marquis of Huntley's Rigadoon." She had, indeed, a skilful little hand, and as the touch of her small fingers filled the room with quaint music the Earl sat tapping with his foot to mark the time, and smiling at the little maid's grave air while she played. When her performance was over she rose, and, making a reverence to her mother and her guest, returned to her sampler.

The Earl had now spent nearly two hours with his old friend, and the sun was near setting, but he could scarcely make up his mind to leave. The interest he felt in her seemed transferred to her children, especially the two elder, and the resolve entered his mind that he would see more of that splendid boy. He turned to George and said to him:

"Will you be so good, Mr. Washington, as to order my people to put to my horses, as I find that time has flown surprisingly fast?"

"Will you not stay the night, my lord?" asked Madam Washington. "We can amply accommodate you and your servants."

"Nothing would please me more, madam, but it is my duty to reach Fredericksburg to-night, where I have business, and I am now seeking a ferry where I can be moved across."

"Then you have not to seek far, sir, for this place is called Ferry Farm; and we have several small boats, and a large one that will easily hold your coach; and, with the assistance of your servants, all of them, as well as your horses, can be ferried over at once."

The Earl thanked her, and George left the room promptly to make the necessary arrangements. In a few moments the horses were put to the coach, as the ferry was half a mile from the house; and George, ordering his saddle clapped on his horse, that was just then being brought from the pasture, galloped down to the ferry to superintend the undertaking—not a light one—of getting a coach, eight horses, and eight persons across the river.

The coach being announced as ready, Madam Washington and the Earl rose and walked together to the front porch, accompanied by little Mistress Betty, who hung fondly to her mother's hand. Outside stood the three younger boys, absorbed in contemplation of the grandeur of the equipage. They came forward promptly to say good-by to their mother's guest, and then slipped around into the chimney-corner, that they might see the very last of the sight so new to them. Little Betty also disappeared in the house after the Earl had gallantly kissed her hand, and predicted that her bright eyes would yet make many a heart ache. Left alone on the porch in the twilight with Madam Washington, he said to her, very earnestly:

"Madam, I do not speak the language of compliment when I say that you may well be the envy of persons less fortunate than you when they see your children. Of your eldest boy I can truly say I never saw a nobler youth, and I hope you will place no obstacle in the way of my seeing him again. Greenway Court is but a few days' journey from here, and if I could have him there it would be one of the greatest pleasures I could possibly enjoy."

"Thank you, my lord," answered Madam Washington, simply. "My son George has, so far, never caused me a moment's uneasiness, and I can very well trust him with persons less improving to him than your lordship. It is my wish that he should have the advantage of the society of learned and polished men, and your kind invitation shall some day be accepted."

"You could not pay me a greater compliment, madam, than to trust your boy with me, and I shall claim the fulfilment of your promise," replied Lord Fairfax. "Farewell, madam; the sincere regard I have cherished during nearly twenty years for you will be extended to your children, and your son shall never want a friend while I live. I do not know that I shall ever travel three days' journey from Greenway again, so this may be our last meeting."

"Whether it be or not, my lord," said Madam Washington, "I can only assure you of my friendship and gratitude for your good-will towards my son."

The Earl then respectfully kissed her hand, as he had done little Betty's, and stepped into the coach. With a great smacking of whips and rattle and clatter and bang the equipage rolled down the road in the dark towards the ferry.

A faint moon trembled in the heavens, and it was so dark that torches were necessary on the river-bank. George had dismounted from his horse, and with quiet command had got everything in readiness to transport the cavalcade. The Earl, sitting calmly back in the chariot, watched the proceedings keenly. He knew that it required good judgment in a boy of fifteen to take charge of the ferriage of so many animals and men without haste or confusion. He observed that in the short time George had preceded him everything was exactly as it should be—the large boat drawn up ready for the coach, and two smaller boats and six stalwart negro ferrymen to do the work.

"I have arranged, my lord, with your permission," he said, "to ferry the coach and horses, with your own servants, over first, as it is not worth while taking any risks in crowding the boats; then, when the boats return, the outriders and their horses may return in the large boat."

"Quite right, Mr. Washington," answered the Earl, briskly; "your dispositions do credit to you, and I believe you could transport a regiment with equal ease and precision."

George's face colored with pleasure at this. "I shall go on with you myself," he said, "if you will allow me."

The boat was drawn up, a rude but substantial raft was run from the shore to the boat, the horses were taken from the coach, and it was rolled on board by the strong arms of a dozen men. The horses were disposed to balk at getting in the boat, but, after a little coaxing, trotted quietly aboard; the ferrymen, re-enforced by two of Lord Fairfax's servants, took the oars, and the boat, followed by two smaller ones, was pulled rapidly across the river. After[Pg 816] a few minutes, seeing that everything was going right, George entered the coach and sat by the Earl's side. The Earl lighted his travelling-lamp, and the two sat in earnest conversation. Lord Fairfax wished to find out something more about the boy who had made so strong an impression on him. He found that George had been well taught, and although not remarkable in general literature, he knew more mathematics than most persons of twice his age and opportunities. He had been under the care of the old Scotchman, Mr. Hobby, who was, in a way, a mathematical genius, and George had profited by it.

"And what, may I ask, Mr. Washington, is your plan for the future?"

"I hope, sir," answered George, modestly, "that I shall be able to get a commission in his Majesty's army or navy. As you know, although I am my mother's eldest son, my brother Laurence, of Mount Vernon, is my father's eldest son, and the head of our family. My younger brothers and I have small fortunes, and I would like to see something of the world and some service in arms before I set myself to increasing my part."

"Very creditable to you, and you may count upon whatever influence I have towards getting you a commission in either branch of the military service. I myself served in the Low Countries under the Duke of Marlborough in my youth, and although I have long since given up the profession of arms, I can never lose my interest in it. Your honored mother has promised me the pleasure of your company for a visit at Greenway Court, when we may discuss the matter of your commission at length. I am not far from an old man, Mr. Washington, but I retain my interest in youth, and I like to see young faces about me at Greenway."

"Thank you, my lord," answered George, with secret delight. "I shall not let my mother forget her promise—but she never does that."

"There is excellent sport at Greenway, and I have kept a choice breed of deer-hounds, as well as fox-hounds. I brought with me from England a considerable library, and you can, I hope, amuse yourself with a book; but if you cannot amuse yourself with a book, you will always be dependent upon others for your entertainment."

"I am fond of reading—on rainy days," said George; at which candid acknowledgment the Earl smiled.

What a delightful vista this opened before George, who was, like other healthy-minded boys, devoted to reading and hearing of battles, and fencing, and all manly sports! He glanced at Lance, standing erect and soldierly, as the boat moved through the water. He meant to hear all about the siege of Bouchain from Lance before the year was out, and blushed when he was obliged to acknowledge to himself that he had never heard of the siege of Bouchain.

#### [to be continued.]

## HOW MAGIC IS MADE.

### BY HENRY HATTON.

### V.

About the year 1864 Carl Herrmann introduced at the old Academy of Music, New York, a trick never seen here before, which he called "The Miser." It has since become common, and, under the more prosaic title of "Catching Money in the Air," is exhibited more or less skilfully by many of the present-day conjurers. None, however, has presented it so artistically as the originator, for in his hands it was a very clever bit of melodramatic acting.

Borrowing a hat from the audience, he crept about the dimly lighted stage to the accompaniment of weird music, and with eager eyes and avaricious clutch seemingly plucked from the air half-dollars innumerable, which he deposited in the hat, until he had accumulated twenty-five or thirty.

FIG. 1.

More modern conjurers have tried to improve on Herrmann's method by using apparatus of one kind or another in the trick, but he relied exclusively on his ability to palm a coin.

As it will be necessary for my readers first to master this important element of conjuring, I shall try to teach it before explaining the other details of the trick. To palm a coin, hold it lightly between the tips of the second and third fingers and the thumb of either hand, as shown in Fig. 1. Balancing it on the finger-tips, let the thumb resume its normal position, and at the same moment let the two fingers press the coin into the hollow of the palm. See Fig. 2. Now contract the thumb so that the coin will be held by the ball on one side, and on the other by the opposite fleshy part of the hand, as in Fig. 3. Though at first it may be difficult to press the coin into the exact position, practice will soon make it easy.

FIG. 2.

The beginner is apt to try to have his hand appear perfectly flat when seen from the back; but let him notice the open hand of a friend as it hangs in a normal condition, and he will find that it is slightly arched. Supposing that my reader is now an adept at palming, let us proceed with "The Miser" as Herrmann did it.

When he came on the stage he held twenty-five or thirty coins in his left hand and one coin in his right. As an excuse for keeping the left hand closed it grasped the lower part of the lapel of his coat. In the right hand he carried his wand, or badge of office, a round ebony stick about eighteen inches long, fitted at the ends with ivory ferrules.

FIG. 3.

Approaching some man in the audience, he asked for a high hat, and as it was handed to him he thrust the left hand inside of it, the thumb only remaining outside to grasp the rim. Extending his arms, he struck the left arm with his wand and the closed right hand, asking the nearest person to feel his arms and body so as to assure himself that nothing was concealed there. This examination over, he turned to go back to the stage, throwing his wand ahead of him, and letting the coin in the right hand slip into his sleeve.

Now began his search for the money. As he moved about the stage the audience was allowed to see that the right hand was empty. Suddenly he grasped at the air, and then peering into his hand, he struck his forehead as if in despair at finding nothing. Then as the right hand fell to his side the sleeved half-dollar slipped into it.

Now began the money hunt in earnest. With his right side toward the audience, he again clutched at the air, and this time, letting the coin drop to his finger-tips, showed it. Then he tossed it visibly, so that all might see it, into the hat, where it was heard to fall. The next moment, as if with the instinct of the miser, he took it out again and pressed it to his lips, and once more threw it into the hat. This time, however, he only apparently did so, for as the hand went inside the hat he palmed the coin, and let drop one of the coins from the left hand instead.

Round and round the stage he went, catching the coin, palming it, and apparently adding it to the store in the hat, which was each time supplied from the left hand.

[Pg 817]

When only four or five coins were left in the hand, he actually threw the coin which he "caught" into the hat, turned the empty hand toward the audience—without speaking, however, for the whole trick was carried out in pantomime—and then placing it inside the hat, as if to hold it, took the remaining coins from the left hand. Withdrawing that hand, he turned it, palm outward, toward the audience, and then took the hat with it again, this time keeping the fingers outside. In the mean time he had palmed the four or five remaining coins, for it is as easy for the practised conjurer to palm six as one. These coins he proceeded to "catch," one at a time—which requires considerable practice—and threw each visibly into the hat. This last move set at rest any suspicions which might exist that he had been using one coin throughout the trick.

During the course of the trick, Herrmann at times pretended to pass the coin through the bottom or side of the hat. To do this he merely showed the coin, which he palmed as his hand approached the hat, and let the tips of his fingers touch the plush, as if pushing the coin through. At the same time he dropped a coin from the left hand, and the chink as it came in contact with the others heightened the illusion.

Herrmann played to very large audiences, and this trick proved so popular that Robert Heller decided to reproduce it; but he varied it as follows: Besides the lot of half-dollars in his left hand, he had six or eight in his right. Making a grab at the air, he thus "caught" a number of coins, which he appeared to throw into the hat. In fact, he merely closed his hand over the captured coins without any palming, and let six or eight drop from his left hand. Of course his stock was soon exhausted; but when that happened he threw the coins from his right hand bodily into the hat. Then for the next two or three times when he grabbed at the air he kept the right hand closed, and putting the empty hand over the hat, shook up the coins already in, thus giving the impression that he had thrown a number of coins in. Finally he went among his audience, and taking a heaping handful of coins out of the hat, poured them back, retaining six or seven in his hand. These latter he then shook from a lady's handkerchief or her muff, or pretended to take them from the long whiskers of some man.

FIG. 4.

Two or three years later Hartz did the trick, and as he could not palm a coin, he used a flat tin tube which held about six coins. This tube hung by a hook inside the right breast of his vest; the lower end just reached the bottom of the vest. By putting the tips of the fingers under the vest and pressing a lever, a coin dropped into the hand, and the performer was thus enabled, from time to time, to show a half-dollar and throw it into the hat. The other times he merely pretended to catch a coin, and put his closed empty hand over the mouth of the hat, and "made believe," as the children say, to drop the money in.

Another mechanical arrangement that is used by some performers is strapped just above the wrist, inside the sleeve, and is so constructed that by extending the arm suddenly a coin is shot out by means of a spring to about the tips of the fingers, and the performer really catches it. Still another coin-holder is used, but the pump-handle movement necessary to release the coins is inartistic. There is one little wrinkle, however, in connection with this trick which is worth describing and worth using. It is a coin with a tiny hole drilled through it near its edge. A human hair or a bit of fine sewing silk is run through this hole and formed into a loop. In this way the coin is hung from the thumb. When the performer wishes to "catch" it, a slight jerk brings it to the front of the hand, where he seizes it; and as he puts it into the hat he lets it swing to the back of the hand, which can then be shown empty.

FIG. 5.

A very good trick, somewhat akin to palming, is done with five half-dollars. In palming proper, a new coin with a sharp, milled edge is the best to use, as the milling helps to hold it in place, but for this trick well-worn pieces of money which have become quite smooth are necessary.

FIG. 6.

Begin by rolling up the sleeves so that the arms are bared. Hold the left-hand extended, palm upwards, and on the tip of each finger and thumb balance a coin. Place the right hand on top of the left, so that the money is held between the tips of the fingers of the two hands. Now turn the hands until the back of the right hand is towards the audience, as in Fig. 4. Fix your eyes on the ceiling, as if that had something to do with the trick; move the hands rapidly upward and downward twice, and while doing so bring the tips of the fingers together, causing the coins to lap one over another. Then surround them, as it were, with the tips of the left hand fingers and thumb, and quickly slide them down into the right palm, where they are to be held by pressing on them with the tip of the left thumb; finally, at almost the same moment make a third upward move, keeping the hands together and the eyes fixed above; the hands will appear to be empty and the coins to have vanished. Figs. 5 and 6 show the fronts and backs of the hands. During the applause which always follows this trick, quietly withdraw your thumb, close the right hand over the money, and put it noiselessly away, either in your pocket or other receptacle.

The mere learning of a move like palming is hardly interesting unless it avails for some trick. As "The Miser" is not suitable for all occasions, here is a little trick which will answer to show my amateur friend's proficiency:

Place two half-dollar's on a table. Pick up one with the right hand, palm it, and pretend to place it in the left hand. To do this naturally let the tips of the right-hand fingers touch the left hand, and at the same time close that hand and draw the other away. To the general spectator it will appear as if the coin really remained in the left hand. Turn the left wrist, so that the back of the hand will be toward your audience.

Now pick up the second coin with the tips of the right-hand fingers and thumb, cry, "Pass!" Clink the two coins together, and it will seem as if the left-hand coin had at that moment passed to the right.

Besides the method of palming described, which may be called the orthodox, there are several other methods, one of which I will briefly describe.

FIG. 7.
FIG. 8.

With the palm upward,[Pg 818] hold the coin between the thumb and second finger of the left hand, the tip of the forefinger touching it from below, as in Fig. 7. Let the right thumb go under and the other fingers over it, as if taking it. If at the same time you withdraw the right forefinger and release the grasp of the thumb and second finger, the coin will fall into the left palm, as in Fig. 8. Close the right hand and hold it aloft, letting the left hand drop to the side or rest on the hip. The effect is exactly as if the coin had been taken away by the right hand.

The coin may be made to appear as if taken from the leg by merely dropping it to the tips of the left-hand fingers, which must then be laid on the spot it is desired to have it appear.

If, instead of a coin, a small ball is used, a very laughable effect may be produced by appearing to swallow it. To do this show the ball, throw it into the air once or twice, and at last palm it. Place the gathered-up tips of the fingers and thumb to the lips, and at that moment thrust the tongue into the left cheek, which will give it the appearance of having the ball there. Point to the cheek with the right forefinger; then let the right hand drop to the side, holding the ball palmed. To reproduce it lift the lower front of the vest with the left hand, and thrusting the right hand under, let the ball find its way to the finger-tips; leave it under the vest a second, and then withdraw it slowly.

## THE HIDDEN TREASURE OF KING OBANI.

### BY RICHARD BARRY.

This is the story of an American boy in far-off Africa. He was sixteen years of age—very near seventeen, in fact—at the time of this tale; but he had led such a strange life and had been in so many places that he had probably seen more of the world than many grown men who consider themselves great travellers.

The boy's name did not have an American sound; it was Malcolm McFee, and that is Scotch, as any one can tell at half a glance, and the only reason he was an American was because he happened to be born in the United States, on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada.

In his early youth Malcolm's father had been a sailor, and after that a soldier of the Queen in India, where, after serving bravely, and being wounded in one of the campaigns against the mountain tribes, he had taken it into his head to leave before his time was up, and start on the peculiar crusade which filled the next thirty years or so of his life, and which, at the end of that time found him in the far-away diamond and gold country of the dark continent.

One day Malcolm McFee was sitting in front of the little sheet-iron house in which he and his father lived off in the interior of one of the British Colonies in South Africa, when he saw the latter coming rapidly towards him with his arms swinging. Mr. McFee was a small wiry man, all thews and sinews. He had never abused himself in any way, and he could strike a trot and hold it open-mouthed all day like a dog. He was loping along through the dust, and Malcolm saw that he was evidently laboring under some excitement. Now his father was never despondent or cast down, but he was sometimes more enthusiastic than at others, that was all, and never had the boy seen his father so wrought up as at this very moment. He entered the house and closed the door behind him. Then, not even breathing hard from his running, he put both hands on Malcolm's shoulders, and exclaimed, "Laddie, laddie, but we are going to strike it rich!"

Now Malcolm had heard this before, so he waited for further developments. But the strange tale that was told him succeeded at last in arousing even his calmer nature.

A year previously the British government had conducted a campaign way to the northwest of the South African Dutch republic. They had humbled the little black native King and made him pay tribute, but the loot and treasure that they expected to find (for he had been reputed to be wealthy) were not forth-coming. This is the key to this story, and there is no use of going into the details of the conversation between Malcolm and his father. It is what they did that is interesting—and what took place afterwards.

That night an Englishman named Gifford, a tall, gaunt, fanatical-looking being, entered their hut. He was accompanied by a gray-headed, wizened negro, whose ribs and joints showed plainly beneath his shrivelled, dusty skin. A rather remarkable council was held—the Englishman translating as the negro talked.

"He says he knows exactly the place," Gifford said. "He saw them burying it, and after they had walked away from the spot old Obani had every one of the men who digged for him killed—heads chopped off, you know. That's the reason Tommy Atkins didn't find anything up there, eh? Listen, man! We can get it—gold and sparklers! old Grumpah here says—handfuls of them. Are you game, man, to try it? I tell you frankly why I come to you," Gifford continued. "I know you can be trusted, and we will need some money for the outfit. I say, old Juggins, come, are you with me?"

"How did you get such a hold over the old boy?" asked Mr. McFee, nodding towards the squatting black figure.

"That's a short story," answered the Englishman, laughing. "I have had my eye on him for a long time. He let something slip once, and I tell you, man, I worked with my hands to keep that old nig in idleness—for three years I've worked for him. I arranged it so that he thinks I saved his life, too; and that was easy. And now the point—will you join me?"

This question was superfluous, as any one who had known Malcolm's father would have testified.

Three weeks later two large ox-carts, with four blacks to drive them, and three white men—at least two white men and a boy—were treaking across the flat plains, equipped apparently for a hunting excursion into the game-abounding country where beasts with strange horns and names are found in plenty, and where the lion's roar often breaks the stillness of the night.

Privation and hardship, death and disease they faced, and at last, a month later, with only one wagon left, and the loss of one of the negro drivers (by drowning at a river ford) they arrived at the great fertile border-land that edges the deep forest of the outermost possessions of King Obani, chief of the Bangwalis. Here they rested for a week, regaining strength, for they had made the trip in the unhealthy season of the year. They had traded their way peaceably, so far, with what natives they had met, and had encountered no hostile resistance. But the hardest work was yet to come.

Leaving the cattle in charge of one of the natives in a little hidden valley, the four men and Malcolm entered the shadows of the forest. For ten days they struggled on, cutting their way slowly through the massive undergrowth. Each one was laden down with a heavy pack, pickaxes, and long-handled shovels, not forgetting a few coils of rope, and iron bolts which came in handy afterwards. Besides, the three white men (I can speak of Malcolm as a man) carried rifles and well-filled cartridge-boxes.

On the tenth day old Grumpah, who was leading, stopped and made a strange clucking sound, the sound that the African used universally to attract attention. He pointed with his long bony arm. Half hidden by the vines and weeds lay a white rain-washed skeleton, and only a few feet away lay another. They counted thirty of them in all. It was here that the sharers of King Obani's secret had been put past the revealing of it. Grumpah was talking excitedly now, using long words, but Malcolm had picked up a little of the language, and he caught the gist of it even before Gifford turned and spoke.

"Old 'Grumpah' says it is only five miles further on," he whispered.

For some time they had been following quite a distinct path, and now it was better going. In a little over an hour, Gifford, who had forged ahead, uttered a shout that startled some great billed birds squawking out of the tree-tops.

"By George," the Englishman exclaimed, "the old fellow has not lied! Here is the place."

[Pg 819]

It was evident that a clearing had been made, and at the foot of a great white-trunked tree a mound could be seen covered and grown with underbrush, but hanging from the branch of a tall bush was a strange object. It was an ordinary gin bottle with a label blown into the glass, and on another branch hung a dinner-bell with the clapper removed. Gifford struck the bell with the point of his rifle—it tinkled musically in the silence, and he said, "Come in," jocosely. Mr. McFee's eyes, however, were shining like coals; he removed his coat and laid about him with an axe, cutting away the shrubbery and clearing up the ground. Evidently the mound had been made by hands—no mistaking that.

"Ask him how deep it is," Mr. McFee said, eagerly, driving the point of a pickaxe into the earth.

"The depth of four men!" returned Gifford—"less than thirty feet. How long will it take us?"

McFee looked about him.

"Four days at the most," he said, "if it is easy digging. But now let us go at it right and dig it well fashion. We must make a windlass."

Even before dark—and it grows dark very suddenly in the African forest—a rough winch had been constructed from the trunk of a tree; with the aid of the iron bolts it was strongly held together, and handles were placed on each end, so they could be worked the way a bucket is lowered and raised in a mine shaft. By noon the next day all this was completed and the digging fairly commenced. When they had gone down some ten feet or more, and it became difficult to throw up the spadefuls of the black rich earth, the windlass was placed in position, a basket constructed with the aid of twigs and vines, and the two negroes were set to work hauling the earth to the surface as the white men below filled the improvised carrier. Malcolm's back ached from the constant bending and lifting, but his father labored as might a fireman in a burning house, and Gifford, stripped to the waist and dripping with perspiration like a stoker, delved with the strength of two men. Twenty feet, twenty-five feet, thirty feet were reached, and the only encouraging thing about it was that there were signs that the earth had been disturbed before them.

At noon of the third day they had all gone to the surface except Sandy McFee, when the latter gave utterance to a shout from the shaft,

"Here's something," he called; "look out!"

A shining object thrown from his hand sailed up from out the shaft. It was another gin bottle. (Alas! the mark of on-sweeping civilization.)

It struck against the handle of the windlass and shivered into a hundred sparkling bits. One of them fell at Malcolm's feet.

"Look out, McFee, you idiot!" cried Gifford, springing up. "You came near braining us."

"I have struck a layer of tree trunks," came the answer from below. "The treasure must be underneath."

But Malcolm was sitting there gazing at something that he held between his thumb and forefinger.

"What's the matter, lad?" asked Gifford, turning.

Malcolm handed the shining thing up to him.

"Diamonds!" exclaimed the older man, with a gasp; "the bottle was filled with 'em!"

Most of its contents had fallen back into the shaft. Gifford slipped the stone into his mouth and made a spring for the rope. He slid down it sailor fashion, and one of the blacks followed him. Malcolm hastened to the edge. There they were, on their hands and knees, searching the loose earth, beneath which showed clearly the heavy beams that protected the rest of King Obani's treasure.

They were picking things up, objects to right and left, as children do scattered sugar-plums.

Malcolm had about made up his mind to go down also, when suddenly he heard a weird call off in the woods. It reminded him of the "coo-ee" of the Australian bushmen. It was evidently the sound of a human voice. Another answered it. The black man who had staid on the surface with old Grumpah and himself gave a startled look around, and without a word put off into the woods.

"Some one is coming," shouted Malcolm down the shaft.

Again the call was heard. This time those below heard it also.

"Hurry up! get us out!" shouted Gifford. "It's the Bangwalis. I know the cry."

Hurriedly he emptied the earth out of the basket, and, with Mr. McFee, stepped inside, holding fast to the rope. Malcolm took one handle and Grumpah the other. Slowly they turned the windlass that was supporting more than its usual weight. They had raised it perhaps ten feet or so when there was a sharp crack, and old Grumpah gave a groan. The handle on his side had broken. The old man, who had been straining forward with all his strength, slipped his footing and plunged headlong into the pit.

The weight now was more than Malcolm's arms could stand, and do his best he could not help the windlass slipping from his grasp. Down went the basket.

"Are you hurt?" he shouted.

"Steady, Mal, my boy," came his father's voice in reply. "Keep cool. Now try again. One at a time!"

Malcolm put forth all the might of his strong young back, and slowly the bucket came to the surface, this time with his father alone.

"The old nig broke his neck," were the first words he said. "Come, get the others out."

McFEE AND MALCOLM GRASPED THE WINCH HANDLE.

At this moment, nearer than before, sounded the strange cry. McFee grasped the winch handle with his son, and they had wound Gifford nearly to the top, when Malcolm heard a noise and looked up. Not thirty feet away, parting the bushes, stood a strange figure. Over the top of a long shield peered an excited black face, and behind it another. The gleam of a broad spear-head and the tossing of a headdress farther back showed that there were more to come.

So paralyzed were the natives by astonishment at what they saw that they stood there for a moment like ebony statues. McFee saw his opportunity.

"Pull hard, boy," he said. "This affair has gone past treating;" and he stooped quickly and picked up the Martini rifle from the ground. The shot rang out at once, and the nearest two figures lunged forward, for the ball had passed through both of them.

Gifford was now swarming up the rope faster than Malcolm could raise the bucket. A wild cry rang through the woods, but dismayed by the death of the foremost two, the rest of the Bangwalis had taken to their heels.

"Get your guns," cried Gifford. "We must make for the high ground down the path."

The black man down at the bottom of the pit set up a piteous howl.

"We can't leave him," cried Malcolm, letting the bucket go by the run.

The negro seized the rope and came up it like a monkey, leaving the body of poor old Grumpah where he fell. All four now struck off through the woods to the northward. The cries and the pounding of a tomtom were heard from the south, and then a wild scream, as it was evident the blacks had determined on a charge across the open.

"They'll be on us in about five minutes," panted Gifford, looking back over his shoulder. "What in the world are we to do? We must leave the path."

They crushed their way through the thickets a dozen yards or so, each man fighting as if the leaves would drown him, when Malcolm pointed with his finger. There, towering straight up to the sky, was the trunk of a huge tree. At the roots was a small opening, large enough to all appearances for a man to squeeze his way in. No sooner had he seen it than the black darted toward it on hands and knees like a rabbit, and before the others could tell what he was going to do, nothing but his heels were to be seen. Gifford turned and reached up overhead. With the stroke of his knife he clipped off the top of one of the overhanging bushes.

"In with you!" he cried—"in with you! That tree trunk is nothing but a chimney. It will hold us all."

Malcolm and his father and lastly the lanky Englishman crawled into the damp-smelling interior, and Gifford pulled the ends of the branch in after him, so that the [Pg 820]spreading leaves would hide the opening. Now the cries sounded all about. On the path not forty feet away a crowd of natives went by on the rush, the ornaments on their knees jingling as they ran. Crouching in the crowded space the fugitives waited breathlessly. They heard more cries, and once some one had passed through the bushes so close to them that they could hear the swishing of the leaves. It had grown so dark that perhaps their footprints could not be seen; their hiding-place was not discovered.

Now a consultation was held.

"I wish old Grumpah was here," said Clifford. "He knows the country."

The black whose teeth were chattering was mumbling something.

"What's that?" asked Gifford, turning to him.

"Ribber not far off," the man replied.

Gifford spoke to him in his own language, and then he addressed the others in a whisper.

"This boy was a slave to the Bangwalis," he said. "He tells me there is a stream to the northward. We might make it and find a canoe at the banks. It's our only chance for life."

"Will we have to leave the treasure behind?" asked Mr. McFee, hoarsely.

"Confound the treasure!" responded Gifford. "It may be the death of us yet. We have enough white stones to make us rich."

It was midnight, judging as well as they could, when they crawled from their hiding-place, and there was nothing for it but to take the path again and go cautiously, as it was impossible in the darkness to travel through the forest. But after following the path for half an hour it lightened suddenly, and they perceived that it was only the thick foliage that had kept the moonlight from reaching them. A few rods further on they went, and a broad stream lay spread before them. On the opposite shore lights could be seen, and the sound of wailing voices and the beating of drums proclaimed the fact that some negro rite was there in progress. The black man pointed with his finger, and Gifford held up his hand as an order to halt.

"King Obani, he home," said the negro boy, nodding across the river. "Three year ago English too 'm. No find gold."

"I know where I am now," whispered Gifford, excitedly. "This river is the Mmymbi; that is Obani's chief town. Willoughby and the rangers took it three years ago, and were fooled in getting the loot, don't you remember. Eh? the idiots!"

"Well, what are we to do?" asked Mr. McFee.

"Thirty-five miles below is an English trading-station," Gifford said, eagerly. "We must get a boat of some kind."

Tho black had waded knee-deep into the stream. He bent over with his face close to the water, and then struck out silently.

"Come back here, you black rascal," hissed Gifford, raising his rifle.

But the boy's reply caused him to lower it.

"He says there's a boat tied to the branches of yonder tree," he murmured.

Now by bending over all could see it plainly. The negro slid over the side, and soon came back paddling it silently along the shore; the others crawled in, and now, keeping well in the deep shadow of the trees, they drifted down the stream; the cries and lights of the Bangwali village grew fainter and fainter in the distance. When around the bend of the river Gifford picked up a paddle, and they struck out at full speed. Three hours' paddling and they were beyond King Obani's jurisdiction, and by daylight they saw the clearing of the English trader.

For some reason they chose not to tell their story, and the next morning as they sat at breakfast a canoe shot down the stream. Some natives landed.

"Hullo, here's news," said the trader's clerk as he approached the house after meeting the native boat. "King Obani is dead."

"Then the mystery of his treasure dies with him," said the trader, for the story was well known.

"Humph," observed Gifford, lighting his pipe.

"Mal, my boy, we'll return for the rest of it some day," whispered Mr. McFee.

But he never did. Adventure seemed to be killed within him, and he and Malcolm composed the firm McFee & Son, general merchants, at K——. And here is where the story comes from.

[Pg 821]

## RICK DALE.

### BY KIRK MUNROE,

#### Author of "Snow-shoes and Sledges," "The Fur-Seal's Tooth," "The 'Mate' Series," "Flamingo Feather," etc.

### CHAPTER XXXV.

### A GANG OF FRIENDLY LOGGERS.

he month of September was drawing to its close, and the gang of loggers belonging to Camp No. 10 of the Northwest Lumber Company, which operated in the vast timber belt clothing the northern flanks of Mount Rainier, were about to knock off work. From earliest morning the stately forest, sweet-scented with the odors of resin, freshly cut cedar, and crushed ferns, had resounded with their shouts and laughter, the ring of their axes, the steady swish of saws, and the crash of falling trees. To one familiar only with Eastern logging, where summer is a time of idleness, and everything depends on the snows of winter, followed by the high waters of spring, the different methods of these Northwestern woodsmen would be matters of constant surprise. Their work goes on without a pause from year's end to year's end. There is no hauling on sleds, no vast accumulations of logs on the ice of rivers or lakes, no river driving, no mighty jams to be cleared at imminent risk of life and limb—nothing that is customary in the East. Even the mode of cutting down trees is different.

The choppers—or "fallers," as they are called in the Northwest—do not work, as do their brethren of Maine or Wisconsin, from the ground, wielding their axes first on one side and then on the other until the tree falls. The girth of the mighty firs and cedars of that country is so great at ordinary chopping height that two men working in that way would not bring down more than two trees in a day, instead of the ten or a dozen required of them. So, by means of what are known as "spring-boards," they gain a height of eight or ten feet, and there begin operations.

The ingenious contrivances that enable them to do this are narrow boards of tough vine maple, five or six feet long, and about one foot wide. Each is armed at its inner end with a sharp steel spur affixed to its upper side. This end being thrust into a notch opened in the tree some four feet below where the cut is to be made, the weight of a man on its outer end causes the spur to bite deep into the wood, and to hold the board firmly in place.

Having determined the direction in which the tree shall fall, and fixed their spring-boards accordingly, two "fallers" mount them, and chop out a deep under cut on the side that is to lie undermost. They work with double-bitted or two-edged axes, and can so truly guide the fall by means of the under cut that they are willing to set a stake one hundred feet away and guarantee that the descending trunk shall drive it into the ground. With the under cut chopped out to their satisfaction, they remove their spring-boards to the opposite side, and finish the task with a long, two-handed, coarse-toothed saw.

As the mighty tree yields up its life and comes to the ground with a grand far-echoing crash, it is set upon by "buckers" (who saw its great trunk into thirty-foot lengths), barkers, rigging-slingers, hand-skidders and teamsters, whose splendid horses, aided by tackle of iron blocks and length of wire-rope, drag it out to the "skid-road." This is a cleared and rudely graded track, set with heavy cross-ties, over which the logs may slide, and it is provided with wire cables, whose half-mile lengths are operated by stationary engines. By this means "turns" of five or six of the huge logs, chained one behind the other, are hauled down the winding skid-road through gulch and valley, to a distant railway landing. There they are loaded on a long train of heavy flat cars that departs every night for the mills on Puget Sound. Here the sawed lumber is run[Pg 822] aboard waiting ships, and sent in them to all ports on both shores of the Pacific.

The light-hearted loggers were laughing and joking, lighting their pipes, picking up tools, and beginning to straggle toward the road that led to camp, when suddenly big Buck Raulet, the head "faller," who was keener of hearing than any of his mates, called out:

"Hush up, fellows, and listen! I thought I heard a yell off there in the timber."

In the silence that followed they all heard a cry, faint and distant, but so filled with distress that there was no mistaking its import.

"There's surely somebody in trouble!" cried Raulet. "Lost like as not. Anyway, they are calling to us for help, and we can't go back on 'em. So come on, men. You teamsters stay here with your horses, and give us a yell every now and then, so we can come straight back; for even we don't want to fool round much in these woods after dark. Hello, you out there! Locate yourselves!"

So the calling and answering was continued for nearly ten minutes, while the rescuing party, full of curiosity and good-will, plunged through the gathering gloom, over logs and rocks, through beds of tall ferns and banks of moss, in which they sank above their ankles, until they came at length to those whom they were seeking—two lads, one standing and calling to them, the other lying motionless, where he had fallen in a dead faint from utter exhaustion.

"You see," explained Alaric, apologetically, half sobbing with joy at finding himself once more surrounded by friendly faces, "he has been very ill, and we've had a hard day, with nothing to eat. So he gave out. I should have too, but just then I heard the sound of chopping, and knew the light was shining, and—and—" Here the poor tired lad broke down, sobbing hysterically, and trying to laugh at the same time.

"There! there, son!" exclaimed Buck Raulet, soothingly, but with a suspicious huskiness in his voice. "Brace up, and forget your troubles as quick as you can; for they're all over now, and you sha'n't go hungry much longer. But where did you say you came from?"

"The top of the mountain."

"Not down the north side?"

"Yes."

"Great Scott! you are the first that ever did it, then. How long have you been on the way?"

"I don't know exactly, but something over a month."

"The poor chap's mind is wandering," said the big man to one of his companions; "for no one ever came down the north side alive, and no one could spend a whole month doing it, anyway. I've often heard, though, that folks went crazy when they got lost in the woods."

The men took turns, two at a time, in carrying Bonny, and Buck Raulet himself assisted Alaric, until, guided by the shouts of the teamsters, they reached the point from which they had started.

By this time Bonny had regained consciousness, and was wondering, in a dazed fashion, what had happened. "Is it all right, Rick?" he asked, as his comrade bent anxiously over him.

"Yes, old man, it's all right; and the light I told you of is shining bright and clear at last."

"Queer, isn't it, how the poor lad's mind wanders?" remarked Raulet to one of the men. "He thinks he sees a bright light, while I'll swear no one has so much as struck a match. We must hustle, now, and get 'em to camp. Do you think you feel strong enough to set straddle of a horse, son?" he asked of Alaric.

"Yes, indeed," answered the boy, cheerfully. "I feel strong enough for anything now."

"Good for you! That's the talk! Give us a foot and let me h'ist you up. Why, lad, you're mighty nigh bare-footed! No wonder you didn't find the walking good. Here, Dick, you lead this horse, while I ride Sal-lal and carry the little chap."

BONNY WAS CARRIED DOWN THE SKID-ROAD TO THE CAMP.

Thus saying, the big man vaulted to the back of the other horse, and reaching down, lifted Bonny up in front of him as though he had been a child.

Camp was a mile or more away, and as the brawny loggers escorted their unexpected guests to it down the winding skid-road, they eagerly discussed the strange event that had so suddenly broken the monotony of their lives, though, with a kindly consideration, they refrained from asking Alaric any more questions just then.

"Hurry on, some of you fellows," shouted Raulet, "and light up my shack, for these chaps are going to bunk in with me to-night. I claim 'em on account of being the first to hear 'em, you know. Start a fire in the square, too, so's the place will look cheerful."

No one will ever know how cheerful and homelike and altogether delightful that logging camp did look to our poor lads after their long and terrible experience of the wilderness, for they could never afterwards find words to express what they felt on coming out of the darkness into its glowing firelight and hearty welcome.

"Stand back, men, and give us a show," shouted Raulet, as they drew up before his own little "shack," built of split cedar boards. "This isn't any funeral; same time it ain't no circus parade, and we want to get in out of the cold."

The entire population of the camp, including the cook and his assistants, the blacksmith with his helper, and the stable-boys, as well as the logging gang, were gathered, full of curiosity to witness the strange arrival. Besides these there was Linton, the boss, with his wife, who was the only woman in that section of country. Her pity was instantly aroused for Bonny, and when he had been tenderly placed in Buck Raulet's own bunk, she insisted on being allowed to feed and care for him. She would gladly have done the same for Alaric, but he protested that he was perfectly well able to feed himself, and was only longing for the chance.

"Of course you are, lad!" cried the big "faller," heartily, "and you sha'n't go hungry a minute longer. So just you come on with me and the rest of the gang over to Delmonico's."

The place thus designated was a low but spacious building of logs, containing the camp kitchen and mess-room. Raulet sat at the head of the long table, built of hewn cedar slabs, and laden with smoking dishes. Alaric was given the place of honor at his right hand.

The plates and bowls were of tin; the knives, forks, and spoons were iron; but how luxurious it all seemed to the guest of the occasion! How wonderfully good everything tasted, and how the big man beside him heaped his plate with pork and beans, potatoes swimming in gravy, boiled cabbage, fresh bread cut in slices two inches thick, and actually butter to spread on it! After these came a huge pan of crullers and dozens of dried-apple pies.

How anxiously the men watched him eat, how often they pushed the tin can of brown sugar toward him to make sure that his bowl of milkless tea should be sufficiently sweetened, and how pleased they were when he passed his plate for a second helping of pie!

"You'll do, lad; you'll do!" shouted Buck Raulet, delighted at this evidence that the camp cookery was appreciated. "You've been brought up right, and taught to know a good thing when you see it. I can tell by the way you eat."

After supper Alaric was conducted to a blanket-covered bench near the big fire outside, and allowed to relate the outline of his story to an audience that listened with intense interest, and then he was put to bed beside Bonny, who was already fast asleep. When Buck Raulet picked up his guest's coat, that had fallen to the floor, and a baseball rolled from one of its pockets, the big logger exclaimed, softly:

"Bless the lad! He's a genuine out-and-out boy, after all! To think of his travelling through the mountains with no outfit but a baseball! If that isn't boy all over, then I don't know!"

### CHAPTER XXXVI.

### IN A NORTHWEST LOGGING CAMP.

The next day being Sunday, the camp lay abed so late that when Alaric awoke from his long night of dreamless sleep the sun was more than an hour high, and streaming full into the open doorway of Buck Raulet's shack. For[Pg 823] nearly a minute the boy lay motionless, striving to recall what had happened and where he was. Then, as it all came to him, and he realized that he had escaped from the mountain, with its terrors, its cold, and its hunger, and had reached a place of safety, good-will, and plenty, he heaved a deep sigh of content. His sigh was echoed by another close beside him, and then Bonny's voice said:

"I'm so glad you are awake, Rick, for I want you to tell me all about it. I've been trying to puzzle it out for myself, but can't be really sure whether I know anything about last night or only dreamed it all. Didn't somebody give us something to eat?"

"I should say they did!" rejoined Alaric. "And not only something to eat, but one of the finest suppers I ever sat down to. Don't you remember the baked beans, and the apple pie, and— Oh no, I forgot; you weren't there; and, by-the-way, how do you feel this morning?"

"Fine as a fiddle," replied Bonny, briskly; "and all ready for those baked beans and pie; for somehow I don't seem to remember having anything so good as those."

"I don't believe you did," laughed Alaric, springing from the bunk as he spoke; "for I'm afraid they only gave you gruel and soup, or tea and toast."

"Then no wonder I'm hungry," said Bonny, indignantly, as he too began to dress, "and no wonder I want beans and things. But, I say, Rick, what a tough-looking specimen you are, anyway!"

"I hope I'm not so tough-looking as you," retorted the other, "for you'd scare a scarecrow."

Then the boys scanned each other's appearance with dismay. How could they ever venture outside and among people in the tattered, soiled, and fluttering garments which were their sole possessions in the way of clothing? Even their boots had worn away, until there was little left of them but the uppers. Their hats had been lost during their flight through the forest, their hair was long and unkempt, while their coats and trousers were so rent and torn that the wonder was how they ever held together. As they realized how utterly disreputable they did look, both boys began to laugh; for they were too light-hearted that morning to remain long cast down over trifles like personal appearance. At this sound of merriment Buck Raulet's good-humored face, covered with lather, appeared in the doorway, and at sight of the ragged lads he too joined in their laughter.

"You are tramps, that's a fact!" he cried. "Toughest kind, too; such as I'd never dared take in if I'd seen you by a good light. Never mind, though," he added, consolingly; "looks are mighty easy altered, and after breakfast we'll fix you up in such style that you won't recognize yourselves."

Bonny had baked beans and pie that morning as well as Alaric, for the fare at that logger's mess-table, bountiful as it was, never varied. After breakfast the boys found their first chance to take a good look at the camp, which consisted of nearly twenty buildings, set in the form of a square beside the skid-road, in a clearing filled with tall stumps of giant firs and mammoth cedars. The two largest buildings were the combined mess-hall and kitchen and the sleeping-quarters, containing tiers of bunks, one for each man employed. Then came the store, which held a small stock of clothing, boots, tobacco, pipes, knives, and other miscellaneous articles. All the others were little single-room shacks, built in leisure moments by such of the men as preferred having something in the shape of a home to sleeping in the public dormitory.

These tiny dwellings were constructed of sweet-smelling cedar boards, split from splendid great logs, absolutely straight-grained and free from knots. Walls, roof, floor, and rude furniture were all made of the same beautiful wood. Some of the shacks had stone chimneys roughly plastered with clay, others boasted small porches, and one or two had both. Buck Raulet's had the largest porch of any, with the added adornment of climbing vines. This porch also contained seats, and was considered very elegant; but every one knew that the head "faller" was engaged to be married to a girl "back East," and said that was the reason he had built so fine a house. Having little else to amuse them, the men who put up these shacks labored over them with as much pleasure as so many boys with their cubby-houses.

Many of the men were anxious to hear a more detailed account of our lads' recent adventures, but Buck Raulet said:

"Call round this afternoon. We've got something else on hand just now."

When they returned to his picturesque little dwelling the big man led the way inside, closed the door, and said: "Now, lads, sit down and let's talk business. What do you propose to do next?"

"I don't think we know," responded Alaric.

"Do you want to go to Tacoma or Seattle?"

"I don't know why we should. We haven't any friends in either place, nor any money to live on while we look for work."

"None at all?"

"Not one cent. There's a month's wages due us from the Frenchman who hired us to go up the mountain, but I suppose he has left this part of the country long ago."

"I suppose he has; and you certainly are playing to such hard luck that I don't see as you can do any better than stay right here. If you are willing to work at whatever offers, I shouldn't wonder if the boss could find something for you to do. At any rate, he might give you a chance to earn a suit of clothes, and feed you while you were doing it."

"I think we'd be only too glad to stay here and work," replied Alaric—"wouldn't we, Bonny?"

"Yes, I think we would, only I hope we can earn some money. I've worked without wages so long now that it is growing very monotonous."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Raulet: "you two stay right here, while I go over and see the boss."

A few minutes later the big man returned with beaming face, and announced that Mr. Linton had consented to take them both on trial, and had promised to find something for them to do in the morning. Moreover, they were to go down to the store at once, pick out the things they needed, and have them charged to their account.

All this Buck Raulet told them; but he did not add that he had been obliged to pledge his own wages for whatever bill they should run up at the store, in case they should fail to work it out. The big-hearted "faller" was willing to do this, for he had taken a great fancy to the lads, and especially to Alaric. "That chap may be poor," he said, "and I reckon he is; but he's honest—so are they both, for that matter; and when a boy is honest, he can't help showing it in his face." These preliminaries being happily settled, he said, "Now let's get right down to business; and the first thing to be done is to let me cut your hair before you buy any hats."

The boys agreeing that this was necessary, the operation was performed with neatness and despatch; for the big "faller" was equally expert at cutting hair or trees.

Then they went to the store, where Alaric and Bonny selected complete outfits of coarse but serviceable clothing, including hats and boots, to the amount of fifteen dollars each.

"Now for a scrub," suggested Raulet; "and I reckon I need one as much as you do." With this he led his protégés to a quiet pool in the creek just back of the camp.

When at noon the boys presented themselves at the mess-room, so magical was the transformation effected by shears, soap, and water, and their new clothing, that not a man in the place recognized them, and they had to be reintroduced to the whole jovial crowd, greatly to Buck Raulet's delight. By a very natural mistake, he introduced Alaric, whom he had only heard called "Rick," as Mr. Richard Dale, and the boy did not find an opportunity for correcting the error just then.

Later in the day, however, when most of the camp population were gathered in front of Raulet's shack listening with great interest to the lads' account of their recent experiences, one of them addressed him as "Richard," whereupon he explained that his name was not Richard, but Alaric.

"Alaric?" quoth Buck Raulet; "that's a queer name, and[Pg 824] one I never heard before. It's a strong-sounding name too, and one that just fits such a hearty, active young fellow as you. I should pick out an Alaric every time for the kind of a chap to come tumbling down a mountain-side where no one had ever been before. But where did your folks find the name, son?"

"I'll tell you," replied Alaric, flushing with pleasure at hearing that said of him; "but first I want to say that it was Bonny Brooks who showed me how to come down the mountain, and but for him I should certainly have perished up there in the snow."

"Hold on!" cried Bonny. "Gentlemen, I assure you that but for Rick Dale I should have had the perishing contract all in my own hands."

"I expect you are a well-mated team," laughed Raulet, "and I am willing to admit that for whatever comes tumbling down a mountain there couldn't be a better name than Bonny Brooks. But now let's have the yarn."

So Alaric told them all he could remember of the mighty Visigoth who invaded Italy at the head of his barbarian host, became master of the world by conquering Rome when the eternal city was at the height of its magnificence, and whose tomb was built in the bed of a river temporarily turned aside for the purpose.

The rough audience grouped about him listened to the tale of a long-ago hero with flattering interest, and when it was ended declared it to be a rattling good yarn, at the same time begging for more of the same kind. Alaric's head was crammed with such stories, for he had always delighted in them, and now he was only too glad of an opportunity to repay in some measure the kindly hospitality of the camp. So for an hour or more he related legends of Old World history, and still older mythology, all of which were as new to his hearers as though now told for the first time. Finally he paused, covered with confusion at finding Mr. and Mrs. Linton standing among his auditors, and waiting for a chance to invite him and Bonny to tea.

From that time forth Alaric's position as story-teller was established, and there was rarely an evening during his stay in the camp, where books were almost unknown, that he was not called upon to entertain an interested group gathered about its after-supper open-air fire.

Mr. Linton questioned the boys closely as to their capacity for work while they were at tea with him, and finally said: "I think I can find places for both of you, if you are willing to work for one dollar a day. You, Brooks, I shall let tend store and help me with my accounts until your arm gets stronger, while I think I shall place your friend in charge of one of the hump-durgins."

"What is that, sir?" asked Alaric.

"What's what?"

"A hump-durgin."

"Oh! Don't you know? Well, you'll find out to-morrow."

#### [to be continued.]

## BLIND-MAN'S-BUFF AT SEA.

### PROBLEMS OF NAVIGATING IN THICK WEATHER.

### BY W. J. HENDERSON.

"What do you think about the weather?"

That was the question which Captain Jason Argo asked his first officer as they stood on the bridge together. The great black hull of the steamer Golden Fleece, driven by the powerful quadruple-expansion engines, was cleaving its way westward at a flying gait of nineteen knots an hour. There was a thundering hill of foam under her bows, and a massive cloud of oily brown smoke went rushing sternward from her two big funnels. She had encountered only one bit of fresh weather since leaving Queenstown, for it was[Pg 825] hardly time yet for heavy gales. But now the sky had become overcast with a thin haze of clouds, which obscured the sun completely.

"I'm afraid," answered the first officer, "that we're in for a settled spell of cloudy weather and fog."

"And I'm morally certain that you're right," said the Captain, with a serious face, as he thought of what was before him.

When the celestial bodies—the sun, moon, and stars—cannot be seen, then begins grave trouble for the navigator. As long as these are visible, by observing their altitudes above the horizon with the sextant—an instrument designed for that purpose—and by some simple astronomical calculations, he can ascertain the latitude and longitude of his ship, and thus know just where he is and which way to steer in order to reach his port. But the moment he loses the heavenly bodies he must feel his way into port by "dead reckoning," which consists of measuring the actual distance sailed by means of the log-line, and of ascertaining the direction by the compass. It is a method subject to errors of many kinds, caused by incorrect registering of the log, by deviation of the compass, and by currents. It is like trying to walk through a room in the dark by counting the number of your steps. So it was not remarkable that Captain Jason Argo looked grave.

"At noon to-day we made our position 47° west longitude and 46° 30' north latitude," said the Captain, reflectively.

"Yes, sir," answered the first officer.

"As we are steering, that should have made us seventy-five miles from the easterly edge of the Newfoundland Banks."

"To a dot, sir."

"And it is now three o'clock. What does the patent log show?"

"It is registering nineteen and three-quarter knots an hour."

The patent log is an instrument for recording the distance sailed by the ship. It consists of a dial on the outside of a case, inside of which are wheels to turn the hands. Attached to the machinery is a long line, at the end of which is a rotator shaped somewhat like a ship's propeller. This rotator drags through the sea, and makes a certain number of revolutions every mile, twisting the line, and thus turning the hands on the dial, where the number of knots is marked.

"It's a new log, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir; I received it at Queenstown."

"Good. What is its percentage of error?"

"Two per cent."

Patent logs usually overrate the distance run, and the percentage of error has to be ascertained.

"It's running fully two per cent. now, I fancy," said the Captain, stepping to the speaking-tube that ran to the engine-room and calling for the chief engineer.

"Hello, Mr. Bargot! How many revolutions are you making a minute?"

A jumble of figures returned through the tube.

"And that's nineteen knots, isn't it?" said the Captain. "Good."

The speed of vessels can be tolerably well calculated from the number of revolutions of the screw.

"Now," said the Captain, turning to the third officer, who was also on the bridge, "what was the last record of the chip log?"

"Twenty knots, sir."

"Common log is not much good at high speeds," commented the Captain.

The common log consists of a triangular wooden float, a line marked with knots at equal distances apart, and a reel. The float is thrown overboard, and the line allowed to run off the reel for a certain number of seconds. The proportions of the distances between knots are such that the number of them run off in the given time is the number of miles an hour which the vessel is making.

"We shall be safe in saying that we are doing an even nineteen knots," said the Captain. "We ought to strike the easterly edge of the Newfoundland Banks a little before four o'clock, in longitude 48° 30' west and latitude 45° 40' north, and we ought to get a sounding there of fifty-four[Pg 826] to fifty-eight fathoms. Mr. Parker, you will get the sounding-machine ready to take a cast at five minutes of four o'clock."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the third officer.

The sounding-machine consists of a heavy lead on the end of a very long piano-wire wound round a cylinder. With this a sounding can be taken while a vessel is going ahead at the rate of twelve or fifteen knots, while with an old-fashioned deep-sea lead line it is necessary to stop. An indicator on the side of the sounding-machine shows how many fathoms of wire are out, and there is a crank for winding it in.

At five minutes of four the third officer took the sounding, and reported a depth of fifty-five fathoms.

"Good," said the Captain, who was now in his room consulting the chart. "So far we know exactly where we are. We shall keep our present course. You will take another sounding at seven o'clock, when we should be fifty-seven miles west sou'west of this, and you should get thirty-three fathoms. How's the weather?"

"Looks like fog before morning, sir."

"Hum!" muttered Captain Jason Argo, through his clinched teeth, "I shall hold our present course at least till we clear the Banks. It's 150 miles across, as we are going, and I wish soundings taken every two hours till we are across, which will be in eight hours. You will pass the word to call me when the last sounding is to be taken."

The third officer returned to the deck. At seven o'clock he made the sounding, as directed, and got a depth of thirty-two fathoms, which tallied closely enough with the Captain's calculations to show that they were correct. Steadily the Golden Fleece ploughed her way westward across the comparatively shallow waters of the Grand Banks, and at midnight, the Captain having been called, the last cast of the lead showed eighty fathoms.

"Good," said the Captain, turning his face against the damp rush of the heavy mist; "we shall run into 1500 fathoms now, and into the northerly limit of the Gulf Stream. On the whole, I think we'd better give our course an eighth more southing, and hold it at that till noon. Keep a bright lookout ahead, and keep your weather eye on the sky. If it breaks away, look sharp, and get the deviation from the first star that shows. I think we're in for a lot of thick weather."

The Captain went below and turned in, "all standing." All through the dreary night his sleep was broken by the hoarse blasts of the fog-siren and the half-hourly cries of the lookouts. He wondered whether the current of the Gulf Stream was setting true, or had perhaps been deflected by some now dead wind of which he could not possibly know anything. He had a sailor's dread of an unknown current. If he had been on soundings the trusty lead would have told him where he was, but no machine could plumb the depths now under the Golden Fleece's keel. At six o'clock the Captain went on the bridge again. The fog had disappeared, but the sky was still overcast.

"Hum!" he muttered; "it's enough to make a man give up the sea and go to farming."

Toward half past nine there were signs that the clouds were about to break, and the officers on the bridge made ready to "shoot the sun," as taking an observation is called, at the first opportunity. Presently there was a rift of blue sky, and in a few minutes the gorgeous sun broke through. The officers made their observation, but as they were still uncertain of their latitude, they could do nothing with it. At noon they were able to ascertain the latitude, and then they figured out the ship's position.

"How does our dead reckoning compare with our position by observation?" asked Captain Jason Argo.

"By dead reckoning we have made a run of 456 miles in the twenty-four hours," answered the first officer, "and our noon position was latitude 43° 34' north, longitude 54° west. By observation our position is latitude 43° 30' north, longitude 53° 54' west."

"Excellent," exclaimed the Captain; "that's close work, and shows that my current allowance was about as near right as possible. Now I wish to hit the easterly edge of George's Bank, which is in longitude 66° west, in latitude 41° 20' north. When we make that point, I'll show you my reason for doing that."

The Captain now gave out the course as south 76° west, true, and the distance to the point indicated as 540 miles. The course had to be corrected for variation and deviation of the compass before it could be given to the man at the wheel, and the greatest care was exercised in making the calculations.

"If we keep going at nineteen knots," said the Captain, "we'll strike that eastern edge in twenty-eight hours and three-quarters, or at a quarter of five to-morrow afternoon. Whether the weather is clear or thick, at that hour I want a sounding. We ought to get about fifty-five fathoms."

IT BEGAN TO BLOW BRISKLY FROM THE NORTHEAST.

The Golden Fleece continued her westerly flight, but the weather did not remain clear. Before noon the following day it had clouded over, and had begun to blow briskly from the northeast.

"Now," said the Captain to himself, "I shall have that much discussed southerly and westerly current to look out for."

But among the passengers the Captain appeared to be so easy in his mind that they thought he had very little to think about. Yet he ordered the sounding to be made at 4.30, and had the ship slowed down to half speed. No bottom was got at 300 fathoms; but fifteen minutes later the lead struck at fifty-eight fathoms. The course was now altered two degrees more to the westward.

"I steer now," said the Captain, "for longitude 68° west, latitude 41° north. That is the westerly edge of the southern extremity of this bank, and there we should get thirty fathoms. The distance is 240 miles, and as we are now doing about twenty knots an hour, we ought to be there in twelve hours, or at 4.45 in the morning."

Not a star peeped out in the course of the night, and the Captain, running wholly by dead reckoning, was an anxious man. Toward morning he had the lead hove every half-hour, and his wisdom was shown by the result of the soundings, which proved that the Golden Fleece had over-run her reckoning by eight miles—quite enough to cause disaster if near land, or dangerous shoals. The latter was the case, for the Nautucket Shoals were not far away. The weather continued to be thick and "dirty," and Captain Jason Argo was constantly on the alert. There were dangerous shallows ahead of him and uncertain currents under him, and he knew that it was his duty to get the Golden Fleece to port as quickly as possible. But no amount of speed would atone for running the vessel on the Long Island or New Jersey shore, now hourly drawing nearer behind the impenetrable mist. Speed was reduced to fifteen knots, and the lead was hove every hour.

"I am steering now," said the Captain, "to cross the meridian of 70° west in latitude 40° 40' north. But to do that I must pass about six miles south of the South Shoal Light-ship, which is in latitude 40° 46' north, and longitude 69° 56' west. I don't need to see that vessel or hear her fog signal, because the soundings south of her will give me my latitude to a minute, and my longitude almost as well."

"Yes, sir," said the first officer, who had heard something like this before.

"All the same," said the Captain, "I'm not in love with this business of running in with the land in thick weather, and when we are half a dozen miles this side of that light-ship I want the lead down every fifteen minutes."

"Ay, ay, sir."

The navigation of the ship now became a business requiring the utmost caution. Owing to the invisibility of the heavenly bodies it was impossible to ascertain the precise amount of error in the compass. The treacherous Nantucket Shoals, with their changeful currents, were close at hand. The Captain had his chart spread before him, and on it he was tracing the course of the ship as shown by the soundings. She would run twelve miles, and the chart would show that she ought then to be in thirty-four fathoms. The sounding-machine would give the depth. If it was less than thirty-four fathoms, she was north of her apparent course; if more, she was south. She was literally feeling her way. It was nearly 6 p.m., and a fine misty rain narrowed the horizon down to a small circle of[Pg 827] two miles in diameter. The Golden Fleece was slowed down to eight knots, and soundings were taken every fifteen minutes. Suddenly the dull blast of a steam-whistle was heard far off the starboard bow. The first officer hastily drew out his watch and counted the seconds. Nearly half a minute passed, and then came another blast, three times as long as the first.

"The light-ship," said the first officer.

"Yes," said the Captain, who had mounted the bridge at the first sound. "We are fully two miles further north than I thought; too much current allowance, I guess. However, I shall now steer to pass eight miles due south of Shinnecock Light, at a point 40° 43' north and 72° 30' west. The course is west, true, and the distance 113 miles; but we must make some allowance for current—not much, though, with this wind. It's ebb-tide, and it will hardly be likely now to set toward the beach, as it often does."

"HARD A PORT! HARD OVER!"

The Captain made some more calculations, and then gave out the compass course. The speed of the ship was increased to twelve knots, and the deep-sea sounding-machine was used once an hour all night. At four o'clock in the morning the rain had ceased, and another dense fog had set in. The soundings indicated that a point about eight or nine miles due south of Shinnecock Light had been reached. The Captain now gave out the course as west, and the distance as sixty-two miles; but he was very uncertain as to the deviation of the compass, so he ordered speed reduced to ten knots, while the lead was to be cast every half-hour. A fresh northeasterly wind sprang up, raising a choppy sea, and transforming the fog into a driving mist. The soundings ran very irregularly, the lead showing 18, 17½, 20, 22, and 19 fathoms without any apparent guidance. The Captain walked the bridge anxiously. The soundings began to run 18, 17½, 17, 17, 16½, 16, 15, 14, 13½, 13, 14, and 13 fathoms.

"Too far to the south, as sure as I live!" muttered the Captain. "How did we do it? But we're sure to make one of the holes." And then he added aloud, "Slow down to six knots."

Suddenly the officer at the sounding-machine away aft sung out, "Twenty-one fathoms, sir!"

"Right slap into the twenty-one-fathom hole, and heading straight for Monmouth Beach, as I live!" growled Captain Jason Argo, and he sharply ordered the helmsman, "Hard a port! Hard over!"

The Golden Fleece swung her black prow northward through the fog, and when it pointed due north by compass the Captain told the helmsman to keep it so.

HE ORDERED THE VESSEL STOPPED AND LET GO THE ANCHOR.

"We'll be up with the Sandy Hook Light-ship soon," he said; "we fell about seven miles to the south of it. Keep the lead going. That's my motto—log, lead, and lookout in thick weather. If we hadn't kept up our soundings we'd have gone on the Jersey shore. Get the port anchor ready."

A little over an hour later the lookout forward reported the Sandy Hook Light-ship close to the starboard bow.

"Hard a starboard!" said the Captain; and as the ship swung round and the light-ship faded away into the mist again, he ordered the vessel to be stopped and let go the anchor. The fog-whistle ceased to blow, and the bell took its place as a warning. The Captain went down off the bridge, and made his appearance at the luncheon-table.

"Captain Argo," said an impatient old lady, "I'd like to know why we are anchored here in a fog out in the middle of the ocean. I've paid to be taken to New York, and I don't wish to stop here."

"My dear madam," replied the Captain, "up on the coast of Maine the steamboat captains run in fogs from point to point among the islands by timing their craft and then listening for the echo of the whistle from the rocks. And there was once a schooner captain who went from Cape Ann to Quarantine in New York Bay in a fog without seeing a single thing, steering from one whistling-buoy or fog-horn to another. Now I'm only a plain sea navigator, and having brought my ship safely from the other side of the Grand Banks to this side of Sandy Hook Light-ship with only one observation, feeling my way the rest of the time with the lead, I'm satisfied now to come to anchor, wait till the fog lifts, and then let a pilot see whether he can get me up the Lower Bay in clear weather without running me aground."

## THE SLAMBANGAREE.

(In Two Parts.)

### BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK.

### Part II.

s soon as Reginald had recovered sufficiently from his astonishment to be able to speak, he exclaimed, "But you didn't have any bait!"

"The button on the end of the top-cord was the bait," said the Slambangaree, as it watched the fish swimming about in the air.

"What kind of a fish is that?" asked Reginald.

"That," replied the Slambangaree, "is a Capecodger. Did you ever hear a fish sing a song in notes of candy?"

"I never did," replied Reginald.

Then the Slambangaree turned to the Capecodger, and said, in a tone of authority,

"Sing, Sir Fish!"

The fish opened its mouth very wide and sang:

"As I'm a fish of good sound sense,
Permit me, sir, to say
It is a strange experience
To swim around this way.
I much prefer the coral caves
Beneath the bounding sea,
And to disport upon its waves,
And wriggle in my glee.
That bureau there is not a rock,
This air is not the brine.
Oh, grind me up in yonder clock
For fishballs sweet and fine,
But do not keep me swimming here
All day, and thirsty, too,
Or I shall have to shed a tear,
And that would never do!"

What surprised Reginald was that while the Capecodger's words could be distinctly understood, each note was a pellet of candy, that fell from its mouth upon the carpet. When the Capecodger was through, it descended, and, much to Reginald's disgust, devoured all the candy that had fallen upon the floor.

"That candy that it has just swallowed," remarked the Slambangaree, "is merely reserve ammunition for its next song." Then turning to the Capecodger, the Slambangaree continued: "Of course you must not be kept swimming in the air, and I know it would never do to have you shed a tear. But I will not put you in the works of the clock, and grind you up in its machinery, as you suggest, for fishballs, after your kindness in singing us a nice little song, instead of excusing yourself on the threadbare ground of having a sore throat. But you must give little Reginald a ride before you return to the pitcher."

The Capecodger was so anxious to be back in its native element, that it lost no time in swimming under Reginald. When they were up in the air the Capecodger wagged its tail in great glee, and swam all around the room, just grazing the pictures and the clock, but doing no damage.

"It is just like being in a boat," said Reginald, as the Capecodger went down under a chair with him without touching the rungs; "it has a regular sea motion, and I'm not frightened a bit. But I wish I could have the Capecodger all the time; it would be nicer to go to school on than a bicycle, and then I could go way up in the air, like[Pg 828] a kite. And every once in a while I could get it to sing, and have some candy."

But just then Reginald was back in his bed, and the Capecodger was back in the pitcher.

Then the Slambangaree took one of the boxwood tops from Reginald's pocket, and tossed it in the air a few times, and then threw it against the ceiling. Instead of descending, it remained on the ceiling, where it spun at a great rate, and, instead of humming, repeated the multiplication table so fast that it would finish twelve times in about four seconds. Then it got spinning so fast that it set all the room and the furniture whirling at the same rate. As the Slambangaree whirled with the rest, its grin increased until its head seemed to be all grin. Finally the Slambangaree grew smaller and smaller, until it was so small that it vanished into the top, which still whirled away at an awful rate. And when Reginald thought he was rid of his goblin visitor, the top suddenly began to increase in size until it was as large as a barrel, when it suddenly burst, and out popped the Slambangaree, leading a curious monster, the like of which Reginald had never seen or dreamed of. Its mouth opened like a door, and its eyes slid up and down like windows. And it had two heads, one at each end. And it could move with equal grace and swiftness in either direction. It ran all over the room, and what seemed strangest of all was that the room grew larger to accommodate the antics of the monster. Occasionally it would raise one eye like a window-sash, and curious birds would fly forth, and, after fluttering around, fly to the other end of the monster, who would throw open an eye to admit them. As the Slambangaree deposited the boxwood top in Reginald's pocket, it pointed to the monster, and said,

"That thing is a Cariftywhifty."

"What can a Cariftywhifty do?" asked Reginald.

"What can a Cariftywhifty do?" repeated the Slambangaree. "Why, a Cariftywhifty can eat you, and that is what this Cariftywhifty is about to do."

Then the Cariftywhifty chased Reginald into a corner, and took him into his mouth as if he were a raw oyster, and soon had him beneath his teeth, which were like the keys of a piano, and played tunes while it was eating. When Reginald reached the inside of the Cariftywhifty's teeth he found that he had not been hurt; and when he realized that he was being swallowed he was greatly surprised to find that the monster's throat consisted of a stairway, down which he walked into its stomach, which was a beautiful garden. Boxwood tops were spinning on the limbs of trees, and the place was lighted even at night by the Cariftywhifty's eyes. The only time the place was dark was when the unique monster closed its eyes. When the garden was suddenly darkened for a moment, and then illuminated, it indicated that the owner had just winked. Reginald knew that all this garden was in his own room, of course, but he didn't know how he was going to gain his freedom. But he wandered down the main path, seeing many curious sights, until he was chased by a lot of bull-frogs of great size, that jumped great distances and turned somersaults with ease. As these bull-frogs were made of papier-maché, they had no sense of feeling, because when Reginald stepped upon one of them it only made it laugh. They said they would put him in a box and feed him on flies if they could only catch him. This caused poor Reginald to redouble his efforts, and he was almost exhausted when he readied the throat stairway at the other end of the Cariftywhifty. Up these steps he bounded in safety, and was soon under the teeth of the monster, that chewed him and emitted a tune with its musical teeth at the same time.

In a moment Reginald was in his bed again, looking at the Slambangaree, that was now so small that the poor worried boy knew the plum-pudding must be almost digested. Finally the Slambangaree entered the mouth of the Cariftywhifty, and the latter, bounding across the room for a flying start, dashed through the window, and disappeared without breaking the glass or making the slightest noise.

It must have been at that time that Reginald knocked upon my door. When he was admitted he sat on the side of my bed, and told me all about the Slambangaree, the Capecodger, and the Cariftywhifty, at the same time saying that if he ever ate plum-pudding again he only hoped that he would have his nightmare while asleep, and not when lying wide awake. I have written his story down just as he told it to me, in the hope that it may be a warning to other boys to always eat just plum-pudding enough, and never too much, lest they meet with a midnight adventure similar to that of little Reginald's.

## THE RIVER.

Down through the fields, by the poplars and birches,
Into the towns past the houses and churches,
On through the night while the curfew is tolling
The river goes bubbling and foaming and rolling
Under the bridges and over the stones,
Winding through swampland that nobody owns,
Spraying, and splashing, and murmuring free—
Onward it speeds from the hills to the sea!

[Pg 829]

Lynch. Hoffman. Cooley. Cheek. Bell. Jenks.
Whitman. Edwards. Dawson, (Capt.). Smith.
Steele. Morrel.
OAKLAND HIGH-SCHOOL ATHLETIC TEAM.
Interscholastic Champions of the Pacific Coast.
Striebinger. Raby. Hord. Deming. McBride. Perkins.
Shechan. Alexander (Capt.). Cross.
Burke. Sullivan. Ruttle.
UNIVERSITY SCHOOL (CLEVELAND, OHIO) TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM.

The superior value of team-work over individual brilliancy was effectively demonstrated at the New York State Interscholastic games at Tonawanda, New York, June 6. The honors of the occasion were carried off by the Buffalo High-School team with 38 points, Syracuse H.-S. coming second with 36, and Ithaca H.-S third with 27.

Ithaca boasted the most brilliant performer of the day—A. B. Miller—who took four firsts, thereby earning twenty out of the twenty-seven points to Ithaca's credit. Miller is a sprinter, and a sprinter of the first class. He took the 100 in 10-3/5 sec., the 220 in 25-4/5 sec., the quarter in 52-2/5 sec., and the half in 2 min. 13 sec.—and all this in one afternoon against lively competition. The other seven points for Ithaca were earned by F. E. Gibbons, who threw the hammer 97 ft. 7 in., winning first place, and took third in the shot with a put of 36 ft. 7 in., and third in the broad jump with 18 ft. 9½ in.

Stone. Eells. Rixon. Brown. McCormick. Parker. Cook.
Stetson. Bardeen. Cheney (Capt.). Goodwin. Harper. Ellsworth.
Twichall. Tiffany. Lyman. Spencer. Pendleton. Fox.
THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM.

Miller and Gibbons were the stars, and no other member of the Ithaca team scored a single point. But these two giants, single-handed, could not overcome the work of the little seconds and thirds that Buffalo and Syracuse kept piling up against them. Buffalo took only three firsts; Syracuse got four; but the Buffalo team grabbed almost every second and third there was in sight, and thus, by general efficiency, easily overcame the brilliant individual work of Ithaca's two star athletes. Brilliant performers are much to be desired if they can be backed up by other athletes of average capability; but they are almost useless, so far as a victory is concerned, when all the work falls upon them, for their achievements then practically count for nothing.

In many respects the performances made at the New York State meeting were better than those recorded at the N. Y. Interscholastics on the Berkeley Oval a few weeks ago, notably the high jump and the broad jump—although these figures do not, of course, surpass the New York city records. It is very probable, too, that Miller would have made better time in his sprints if he could have had the advantage of a better track and more favorable conditions. The Driving Park track at Tonawanda on the day of these games was very heavy, and in none of the running events were the records broken. In addition a strong wind blew across the path and interfered with the speed of the sprinters. Besides the unfavorable weather conditions, the meet was very badly managed; there were no programmes, and no apparatus for the field events; the jumping posts, etc, had to be obtained at the last moment, and this occasioned considerable delay.

When there were but three events left to be decided, Ithaca was ahead with her final score, and Buffalo and Syracuse were tied for second place with 26 points. The broad jump was then called, and Prinstein of Syracuse took first place, making the score 31 for his team, while Purdy of Buffalo took second, and brought the Buffalo score one ahead of Ithaca. The pole vault followed, and Jackson settled matters for Buffalo H.-S. by adding five points to the score. Purdy won the high jump at 5 ft. 8 in.,[Pg 830] and afterwards, in trying for a record, cleared 5 ft. 10 in. This comes very close to Baltazzi's Interscholastic record.

#### New York State I.S.A.A. Games, Tonawanda, New York, June 5, 1896.

Event. | Winner.
100-yard dash | Miller, Ithaca H.-S. |  |  | 10-3/5 | sec.
220-yard dash | Miller, Ithaca H.-S. |  |  | 25-4/5 | "
Quarter-mile run | Miller, Ithaca H.-S. |  |  | 52-2/5 | "
Half-mile run | Miller, Ithaca H.-S. | 2 | m. | 13 | "
One-mile run | Brown, Roch. H.-S. | 4 | " | 56-3/5 | "
120-yard hurdles | Taylor, Syr. H.-S. |  |  | 19 | "
220-yard hurdles | Taylor, Syr. H.-S. |  |  | 31-4/5 | "
One-mile walk | —————
One-mile bicycle | Miller, Buff. H.-S. | 3 | " | 15-1/5 | "
Running high jump | Purdy, Buff. H.-S. | 5 | ft. | 8 | in.
Running broad jump | Prinstein, Syr. H.-S. | 20 | " | 9½ | "
Pole vault | Jackson, Buff. H.-S. | 9 | " | 10 | "
Throwing 16-lb. hammer | Gibbons, Ithaca H.-S. | 97 | " | 7 | "
Throwing 12-lb. hammer | —————
Putting 16-lb. shot | Hall, Syr. H.-S. | 37 | " | 9 | "
Putting 12-lb. shot | —————

#### Wisconsin I.S.A.A. Games, Madison, Wisconsin, May 30, 1896.

Event. | Winner.
100-yard dash | McGowan, Eau Claire. |  |  | 11 | sec.
220-yard dash | McGowan, Eau Claire. |  |  | 23¼ | "
Quarter-mile run | Athearn, Oshkosh. |  |  | 57½ | "
Half-mile run | Disch, Mil. S.S. | 2 | m. | 21 | "
One-mile run | Dodman, Mil. E.S. | 5 | " | 3 | "
120-yard hurdles | Lyle, Madison. |  |  | 20 | "
220-yard hurdles | Lyle, Madison. |  |  | 29 | "
One-mile walk | Shepherd, Madison. | 8 | " | 26 | "
One-mile bicycle | Comstock, Oshkosh. | 3 | " | 30 | "
Running high jump | Gill, Whitewater. | 5 | ft. | 4 | in.
Running broad jump | Schroeder, Mauston. | 18 | " | 10 | "
Pole vault | Ward, Oshkosh. | 9 | " | 3½ | "
Throwing 16-lb. hammer | —————
Throwing 12-lb. hammer | Smith, Evansville. | 101 | " | 10 | "
Putting 16-lb. shot | —————
Putting 12-lb. shot | Patterson, Evansville. | 42 | " | 5½ | "

#### Pittsburg I.S.A.A. Games, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, June 5, 1896.

Event. | Winner.
100-yard dash | Jarvis, E.L.A. |  |  | 11 | sec.
220-yard dash | Jarvis, E.L.A. |  |  | 24-3/5 | "
Quarter-mile run | Jarvis, E.L.A. |  |  | 53-1/5 | "
Half-mile run | Bell, S.S.A. | 2 | m. | 11-2/5 | "
One-mile run | Bell, S.S.A. | 5 | " | 15 | "
120-yard hurdles | —————
220-yard hurdles | Jarvis, E.L.A. |  |  | 34 | "
One-mile walk | —————
One-mile bicycle | Heinz, S.S.A. | 3 | " | 55 | "
Running high jump | Kallock, P.H.S. | 5 | ft. | 3 | in.
Running broad jump | Baird, E.L.A. | 19 | " | 4 | "
Pole vault | Baird, E.L.A. | 8 | " | 10 | "
Throwing 16-lb. hammer | Bell, S.S.A. | 74 | " | 4 | "
Throwing 12-lb. hammer | —————
Putting 16-lb. shot | Bell, S.S.A. | 33 | " | 2 | "
Putting 12-lb. shot | —————

> Abbreviations.—Roch. H.-S., Rochester (New York) High-School; Syr. H.S., Syracuse (New York) High-School; Buff. H.-S., Buffalo (New York) High-School; Mil. S.S., Milwaukee South Side High-School; Mil. E.S., Milwaukee East Side High-School; E.L.A., East Liberty Academy, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; S.S.A., Shady Side Academy, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; P.H.S., Pittsburg High-School.

The Wisconsin School held their athletic meet at Madison, Wisconsin, on May 30, and although the performances as a whole were below the average of the records attained on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, they will stand comparison with almost any school figures in the middle West. Nineteen schools sent teams to the meeting, and the points were distributed as follows: Milwaukee East Side, 28; Milwaukee South Side, 19; Madison, 17; Eau Claire, 14; Oshkosh, 10; Janesville, 4; Fond du Lac, 1; Whitewater, 7; Evansville, 14; Ripon, 5; Mauston, 7; Edgerton, 3; Wayland Academy, 4; Darlington, Dodgeville, Milwaukee West Side, Lake Mills, and Beloit failed to score any points. In addition to the events shown in the accompanying table, there was a relay race, which was won by the Milwaukee East Side High-School. For some unexplained reason no points were allowed to the winner of the one-mile bicycle-race, which was apparently thrown in as a sort of extra event.

The Pittsburg Interscholastic Association held its second annual field meeting on June 5, the victory going to East Liberty Academy with 23 points out of 64. Pittsburg H.-S. was a close second with 20 points, and Shady Side Academy ran third with 17 points. The other schools followed far in the rear, Park Institute getting only 3, and Allegheny High 1 point. Jarvis of East Liberty Academy stood head and shoulders above any other contestant in the quality of his performances, and won four firsts. He took the 100, the 220, and the quarter, and also finished first in the low hurdles. He could not have been very hard pressed, however, for the time was very slow.

In addition to the one-mile bicycle-race, which was a loaf for three-quarters, there were three other bicycle events. These are not shown on the accompanying table, because it has seemed more advisable, for the purpose of comparison of performances, to record there only the standard events. The quarter-mile bicycle-race was taken by McCready of Pittsburg H.-S. in 35 sec.; he had no easy time of it, however, for Heinz, S.S.A., who took the mile event, pressed him so closely that there were but a few inches between the two as they reached the tape. The two-mile bicycle-race was another uninteresting loaf, the contestants crawling around the track for five laps. A pace-maker was then put in and a spurt followed. Orr, P.H.S., won in 8 min. 3/5 sec., with McCready, his schoolmate, second. When it came to the half-mile race, the officials decided to put in a tandem pace-maker in order to prevent a third loaf, and a good race resulted. Orr again took first, time, 1 min. 9-2/5 sec., with McCready second.

The list of events at the games this year was changed considerably from last spring's schedule, but the house-cleaning did not go quite far enough, for the hop-step-and-jump still remains on the card. Let us hope it will be lost in the shuffle next year. Twelve of this season's events were the same as those of a year ago, and eight of the 1895 records were broken. It is probable that if Jarvis had been pushed he could have lowered the figures in the 100 and the 220; as it was, he established a record in the 440—53-1/5 sec.—which is better than the Pittsburg collegiate performance done by Miller and Edwards at the recent local meeting—54-3/5. Jarvis expects to enter Princeton next year, and will be a valuable acquisition to the New Jersey college's track team, which has never yet been a strong one. Bell, the long-distance runner and weight man, who won four firsts at these games, and Heinz, the bicycle-rider, both go to Yale.

The Oakland High-School athletes have every reason to feel proud of the record they have made on track and field this year. The track team won both the autumn and the spring field days of the Academic Athletic League, and took eight points in the recent Pacific Coast Championships. They have showed themselves to be so strong an aggregation that they can only secure meetings with university teams. A set of dual games had been arranged between the O.H.-S. and the Berkeley High-School, but this fell through after Berkeley had been defeated by the Oakland athletes at the recent A.A.L. field meeting. Challenges have been sent to many high-schools and athletic clubs, but none of these have felt that they were strong enough to stand any chance for success against the Oaklanders, and all have adopted discretion as the better part of their valor.

This year's High-School team, however, is much stronger than any this school has ever turned out before, and it will probably be some time before any such a collection of athletes will be gathered again under the O.H.-S. colors. Three of the best men, Cheek, Jenks, and Dawson, go to college in the fall, and they will add materially to the strength of the University of California team. These three scored 24 out of the 42 points which O.H.-S. secured at the last field day. Cheek is by far the most versatile of the trio, and will undoubtedly be heard from in the near future. At present he holds four of his school's records—the running broad jump, 22 ft.; the running high jump, 5 ft. 8 in.; the 16-lb. shot, 41 ft. 8½ in.; and the pole vault, 10 ft. 5½ in. In addition to these events, he is a strong performer over the hurdles, and throws the hammer beyond the hundred-foot mark.

Jenks is Oakland's sprinter, and holds the school record in both the dashes. His figures are 10-4/5 sec. for the 100, and 24-3/5 sec. in the 220. He is a good quarter-miler besides, his best performance in that line being the winning of the handicap a year ago last April from the 20-yard mark in 52-3/5 sec., coming in ahead of some of the best quarter-milers on the Pacific coast. Dawson's specialty is hurdling. He holds the school record of 29 sec. for the low hurdles, and his best time for the high is 17-4/5 sec. He would doubtless have improved these figures this spring if he had not had the responsibility of captaining the team.[Pg 831] It is much to be regretted that such scholastic athletic talent as this could not be present at the National games last Saturday; if they had, the results in many of the events would doubtless have been different; for I feel confident that with better tracks and a more eager competition they would be able to improve on their home figures.

In baseball the Oaklanders have as good a record as in track athletics. Their nine this year won every game played, and the contests were not only with academic teams, but also with some of the strongest nines in that section. Two years ago the O.H.-S. had the reputation of possessing the best team of amateur baseball-players on the Pacific coast. So great is the interest in athletics there that the Grammar and Primary schools of Oakland got up a field day on May 23. There was a great deal of enthusiasm displayed by the colts, and their best performances were in the high jump, 5 ft. 3 in.; and the quarter-mile run, 59 sec. The season, however, is now pretty well closed, and not until next fall will there be any great activity in any kind of sport among the schools of California.

The activity in sport of the Californiana has acted as an incentive to many schools in the middle West. I know this to be true from correspondence I have had with many captains of teams in that section of the country. Foremost among those who have been drawn into emulation of the Oaklanders are the athletes of the University School of Cleveland, Ohio. Comparatively little had been done in athletics there until about a year ago, but since that time a great improvement has been noticeable, and at the University School's field day a week or so ago some very good figures were made. Alexander threw the hammer 123 ft. 6 in.; Hord vaulted 9 ft. 9½ in.; McBride jumped 5 ft. 5½ in.; and Alexander put the shot 36 ft. 6 in. It will not be long before the records in the middle West will equal those of any of the scholastic associations of the country.

#### Iowa H.-S.A.A. Games, Cedar Rapids, May 22, 1896.

Event. | Winner.
100-yard dash | Jackson, Cedar Rapids. |  |  | 10-3/5 | sec.
220-yard dash | Jackson, Cedar Rapids. |  |  | 23 | "
Quarter-mile run | Carmichael, Clinton. |  |  | 51-1/5 | "
Half-mile run | Brown, Sioux City. | 2 | m. | 6 | "
One-mile run | Brown, Sioux City. | 5 | " | 8-3/5 | "
120-yard hurdles | Horton, Muscatine.
| No time taken.
220-yard hurdles | Conger, Clinton. |  |  | 29-1/5 | "
One-mile walk | Davis, Clinton. | 8 | " | 6-3/5 | "
Running high jump | Flournoy, Clinton. | 5 | ft. | 8 | in.
Running broad jump | Jackson, Cedar Rapids. | 20 | " | ¼ | "
Pole vault | Walsh, Clinton. | 9 | " | 2 | "
Throwing 16-lb. hammer | Leo, Cedar Rapids. | 89 | " | 5 | "
Putting 16-lb. shot | Hartung, Des Moines. | 32 | " | 11¾ | "
Two-mile bicycle | Cherry, Cedar Rapids. | 5 | m. | 59 | sec.
Half-mile bicycle | Cherry, Cedar Rapids. | 1 | " | 14-2/5 | "

When the Iowa State H.-S.A.A. held its first field meeting last year this Department criticised the schedule of events, which contained a number of acrobatic feats not usually recognized as track or field events. It is with great pleasure, therefore, that I notice a change this year. The Iowans are certainly a progressive set of athletes, as has certainly been proved by their sending a team to the National games of last Saturday.

Clinton High-School is the leading institution in athletics there at present. Clinton won the championship among the Iowa schools, and also, in a dual meet, defeated Rockford H.-S., whose team won the Illinois championship.

The Clinton High-School team also challenged the Milwaukee team, but their invitation for a dual contest was not accepted. The Iowa Association is the only one, I believe, of the Western interscholastic leagues that has joined the National I.S.A.A., and for this they deserve great credit. Their action and enterprise will no doubt be of the greatest benefit to sport in that region, and will serve to place the Iowa schools in the front rank of scholastic athletics.

The Graduate.

### AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION

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

### AS TO FRUIT SHORT-CAKES.

Now is the season of the fruit short-cake, and from this, on the household journal and the domestic departments of the dailies that do not contain several receipts for mailing the different varieties of this delicious dessert will be deficient in their make-up. As a matter of particular information it should be stated that whenever a cooking receipt calls for a baking powder the "Royal" should be used. The receipt will be found to work better and surer, and the biscuit, rolls, cakes, short-cakes, dumplings, crusts, puddings, crullers, or whatever made, will be produced sweeter, lighter, finer flavored, more dainty, palatable, and wholesome. Besides, the "Royal" will go further or has greater leavening power, and is therefore more economical than any other powder. The greater consideration, however, is the added delicacy of flavor, the uniform fineness of the article that are always insured.

Many receipts as published still call for cream of tartar and soda, the old-fashioned way of raising. Modern cooking and expert cooks do not sanction this old way. In all such receipts the Royal Baking Powder should be substituted without fail.

The greatest adepts in the culinary art are particular to use the Royal only, and the authors of the most popular cook-books and the teachers of the successful cooking-schools, with whom the best results are imperative, are careful to impress their readers and pupils with the importance of its exclusive employment.

The Royal Baking Powder is the greatest help of modern times to perfect cooking, and every receipt requiring a quick-raising ingredient should embody it.—The Caterer.

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No. 77 Hartford Single-Tubes—the standard tires for those who are willing to sacrifice a little speed for greater security from puncture. The ideal tire for tandems.

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No. 70 Hartford Single-Tubes—the standard tires for rocky, hilly country.

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[Pg 832]

> 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 many 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.

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.

Continuing the journey from Hartford to Pittsfield, leave Canaan by turning to the right just before reaching the railroad, and follow the railroad itself a little over five miles north to Sheffield. There is a good deal of sandy riding to Sheffield, and at Sheffield the Berkshire country begins, where you are sure to find good roads; the road is no longer sandy, but is gravel, well laid, and kept in good condition. From Sheffield, running along on the western bank of the Housatonic River close by the Housatonic Railroad, the road is direct into Great Barrington, it being only necessary for the rider to remember that he must keep to the right just out of Sheffield Plain, and instead of crossing the track keep between the track and the river. Still following the railroad, run out of Great Barrington on the north, cross the railroad, keeping to the left, and then to the right at Mansfield Pond, and run direct to Williamsville through Van Deusenville by the road already described in a recent number; but instead of entering Williamsville, turn to the right just before the town is reached, cross the Housatonic Railroad at Housatonic, and follow the branch road, keeping near the track all the way to Glendale; thence going north, run direct to Curtisville, through Stockbridge, leaving Stockbridge Bowl on the right. After passing through Curtisville run direct by West Street into Lenox. There are other roads, but this particular one is at present in the best condition.

Leaving Lenox by Main Street, the road is direct to Pittsfield, it being possible for the rider either to turn to the right at the fork, about three or four miles out from Lenox into what is called the Middle Road, or to keep straight on what is called the South Road. Either way brings you into Pittsfield itself, and the rider will here reach the point where, by reversing the map given in No. 866 of Harper's Round Table, he may proceed to Hudson, on the Hudson River, and thence run down the Hudson to New York. By following the descriptions already given, it will be seen that the rider joined the route from Hudson to Pittsfield at Great Barrington; but unless he is making a regular circuit and his time is limited, he is strongly advised to run on up through Stockbridge and Lenox to Pittsfield, and to reverse the journey in coming back to Hudson, as, if he turns westward at Great Barrington and runs to Hudson direct, he will miss one of the most delightful roads in Massachusetts. Or he may turn eastward from Pittsfield, and proceed towards the middle of Massachusetts by routes which we hope to give in the near future.

This country is so well adapted in every way, except the one of hills, for bicycling that in reality almost any route is a good one, and any wheelman who is out for pleasure, and is not limited absolutely as to time, will do well to study the country as he goes along, to make inquiries, and to pick out short or long runs for himself.

> Note.—Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814. Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in No. 820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia-Wissahicken Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City—First Stage in No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland—First Stage in No. 827; Second Stage in No. 828. Now York to Boston—Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833. Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839. Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843. Philadelphia to Washington—First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth Stage in No. 847; Fifth Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849. City of Albany in No. 854; Albany to Fonda in No. 855; Fonda to Utica in No. 856; Utica to Syracuse in No. 857; Syracuse to Lyons in No. 858; Lyons to Rochester in No. 859; Rochester to Batavia in No. 860; Batavia to Buffalo in No. 861; Poughkeepsie to Newtown in No. 864; Newtown to Hartford in No. 865; New Haven to Hartford in No. 866; Hartford to Springfield in No. 867; Hartford to Canaan in No. 868.

[Pg 833]

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

If you wish to form an association of the graduates of your school, do not hesitate to do so because you are few in number, or because the school is not very well known. Some of the best work is done in obscure schools, and our love for our own girls and our own teachers has nothing whatever to do with the fame of the institution.

In beginning send word to all the girls who have ever been graduated from your school to attend, if they can, the Commencement exercises of this season. It will be easy when all are together to plan for future reunions. These may be held monthly, quarterly, or annually. If you form an Alumnæ Association, you will require a president, a secretary and treasurer, and an executive committee to carry forward the work which I hope you will have in mind, as well as to do your planning for pleasure.

This work may lie in any one of several directions. You may like, if you are rich, or have many well-to-do friends, to endow a chair of history or poetry in your school, or to found a scholarship, on which some fortunate girl, not able to pay for her own tuition, may always be educated. If you cannot raise much money, you may still be able each year to do something for your school—add books to its library, or a beautiful picture to its drawing-room, or in some way show your attachment to the dear old school.

On the other hand, if you haven't any definite work which you wish to do, you will keep up the school friendships and the pleasant recollections, which will day by day and year by year grow more precious, by the simple plan of meeting from time to time. Perhaps you will have a luncheon when you meet, and in order to provide funds for this you may each contribute a dollar or two dollars, as may be, and let one or two of your number act as a committee to provide the feast. At this the president will preside. You will place the guest of honor at her right, and the next in importance at her left. A card with each girl's name will be at every plate, and the table will be adorned with flowers. If as a school you have a special color, or a special flower, you will choose your decorations with that in view.

A good menu at this season would be the following:

Small Clams on the half-shell.

Chicken Bouillon (served in cups).

Minced Salmon.

Chops with Pease and Potatoes Parisienne.

Olives. Salted Almonds. Radishes.

Lettuce or Asparagus Salad.

Crackers. Guava Jelly. Cream Cheese.

Strawberries and Ice-Cream.

Small Cakes. Bonbons. Peppermint Creams.

Coffee.

You may vary the bill of fare in any manner you choose. It may be very simple or very elaborate, but let everything be nicely cooked and very daintily served.

After the luncheon you will of course have speeches. The president opens the ball, having first rapped for order. She introduces the speakers of the occasion, who have been consulted beforehand, and who have had subjects assigned to them. There will be a great deal of fun, and many ripples of laughter, and at the very end you should sing the class song to some familiar air. I ought to have said that I like at the beginning of such a luncheon some acknowledgment of our Heavenly Father's goodness. The president may recite grace. "Bless, O Lord, this refreshment to our use, and us to Thy service," is a very beautiful and appropriate form; or, rising, the whole number may say grace in common, or may sing "Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow."

No end of pleasure and a good deal of profit will follow your forming such an association. Many schools and colleges now find it one of the most delightful incidents of their lives.

> C. F. R.—In addressing older people or friends of one's own age it is customary to say "Yes, father," or "Yes, Miss Isabel," as the case may be. "Yes, sir," and "Yes, ma'am," are now out of fashion. To your second question, it depends on circumstances. I see no reason why boys and girls should not be comrades, without any silly sentiment to spoil their pleasure. Black specks and other disfigurements of the skin may be cured by rigid cleanliness. Wash the face every night with hot water and a pure toilet soap.

## ADVERTISEMENTS.

## Columbias

### AT ONCE.

The Columbia you want is ready for you. No delay, if you choose regular equipment. We have been preparing for months to meet the present great demand.

### $100 TO ALL ALIKE

### Tandems, $150

### Men's Columbias

### Women's Columbias

### Tandems

#### THE STOCK IS COMPLETE

## Hartford Bicycles

### $65, $50, $45

Such quality at such prices is unheard of. But Hartfords are leaders in both price and goodness. Regular models ready for immediate delivery.

#### POPE MFG. GO, Hartford, Conn.

Branch Stores and Agencies in almost every city and town. If Columbias are not properly represented in your vicinity, let us know.

## WALTER BAKER & CO., limited

Established Dorchester, Mass., 1780.

## Breakfast Cocoa

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.

## Postage Stamps, &c.

## $117.50 WORTH OF STAMPS FREE

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

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

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

1000 Mixed Foreign Stamps, San Marino, etc., 25c.; 101 all dif., China, etc., 10c.; 10 U.S. Revenues, 10c.; 20 U.S. Revenues, 25c. Ag'ts w'td at 50% com. Monthly Bulletin free. Shaw Stamp & Coin Co., Jackson, Mich.

A NICE SOUVENIR GIVEN to every one sending for my unexcelled approval sheets at 60% com.

#### F. JELKE, 516 La Salle Avenue, Chicago.

STAMPS! 100 all dif. Bermuda, etc. Only 10c. Ag'ts w'td at 50% com. List free. L. Dover & Co., 1469 Hodiamont, St. Louis, Mo.

## Songs.

### Franklin

### Square

### Collection.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to gather more features of interest into a work of this kind. Not only are many of the best songs and hymns in the English language here given—both old and new—but there are also songs and hymns for children and the schools. There are songs of home and of country, of love and fame, of heart and soul, of devotion and praise, with their sad and sweet or lively melodies, and with grand old chorals that stir the heart and lift it in worship. Besides the words and music, explanatory and historic notes are given to indicate their origin and significance. These books cannot fail to become immensely popular.—Lutheran Observer.

> Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00. Full contents of the Several Numbers, with Specimen Pages of favorite Songs and Hymns, sent by Harper & Brothers, New York, to any address.

[Pg 834]

## In-door Exercise of a "Shut In."

> I am a "Shut In"—that is, I am not strong, and able to be out but occasionally. I admire athletic sports, and am doing all I can to get stronger. The following is my exercising programme: As soon as I get up I do the double bend fifty times; that is, I touch my feet with my clinched fists without bending the knee. If you have not tried it, do so; you'll find out how easy it is. Then I take a cane, grasp it firmly, and swing it over my head twenty-five times to my back without bending the elbows or arms at all. Next I take my dumb-bells and go through the exercises with them, first down sideways, front, above head, and then swing them back until they touch in back. This I keep up until about ten minutes have elapsed. After breakfast, if favorable, I take a brisk walk for about half an hour, and feel very much refreshed. Shortly after luncheon I exercise on an exerciser, and that completes my athletic training for the day. I have done this for about six months, and have missed about twenty days in doing so. It is getting very tiresome, but I am "sticking" to it. I would like to hear of other Knights and Ladies who conduct such in-door exercise.

C. Arnold Kruckman.
St. Louis.

### Music as a Bond of Union.

Our familiar tune "America," for which the late Dr. Smith wrote the patriotic words, is a very old one, and is the national air of Great Britain and of Germany, as well as of the United States—if we may be said to have any one national tune. Some time since the King of Italy and the Emperor of Germany met in an Italian city. The Emperor of Germany is, you know, a grandson of Queen Victoria of England. The Italian band, out of compliment to the visiting sovereign, played the German national air. An English woman in the crowd, ignorant of the fact that her "God save the Queen," like our "God bless our native land," is not exclusive property, but borrowed, remarked, with characteristic English assurance, "How sweet of them at such a time to remember Emperor William's grandmother!"

### This Busy World Forgets Us Easily.

Fame is not a very tangible thing. United States Senator Aldrich of Rhode Island, has represented his State for many years, and was very prominent in the framing of the tariff bill which is called after the name of Governor McKinley. The Senator tells the following incident, adding that he has never had a conceited moment since it occurred:

"Not long since I was journeying from Providence to New York, when a business man of my own State, a man of prominence and wealth, and an old friend of mine, fell in with me, and at once said:

"'Good-morning, Senator. Where are you going?'

"'Oh, I am going to Washington,' said I.

"'What are you going there for?'

"'To attend to my public duties.'

"'Why, what duties—what duties do you have in Washington?'

"Blushing, I replied that I was still a United States Senator.

"'Oh yes,' said the business man of prominence, wealth, and standing; 'you were elected to the Senate, weren't you?' After a pause: 'By-the-way, who is the other Senator from Rhode Island?'"

### A Spirited Contest.

> On Friday evening, May 15, the Second Annual Oratorical Contest of the high-schools of Chicago took place in Central Music Hall. The prizes offered were large; to the first three, gold medals valued at $25 each were given, in addition to a cash prize of $100 to the first, $75 to the second, and $50 to the third. These gifts were made possible through the kindness of Messrs. Alfred S. Trude, Franklin H. Head, and Charles S. Thornton.

> There were two sets of markings—one set, on thought and composition, the judges being Henry B. Fuller, John Vance Cheney, and Franklin MacVeagh; the other set, on delivery, the judges being Luther Laflin Mills, Henry Wade Rodgers, and Judge John Barton Payne.

> Mr. Bertram G. Nelson, of the Englewood High-School, spoke on the "Problem of History," and obtained first prize. Mr. Harrison S. Smalley, of the North Division High-School, spoke on the subject, "Are We Free?" and received second prize. Miss Nellie M. McPherson, of South Division High-School, spoke on "War," and earned third prize. Altogether there were eight contestants.

> The system of marking was the average system, in which the marks are averaged up, and the highest average gets first place. Mr. Smalley received, out of a possible six firsts, five firsts, but because Mr. MacVeagh, "the Scholar in Politics," marked him down, he was deprived of a victory, which under any other system of marking would rightly have been given to him.

Albert V. De Roode, K.R.T.

### Here You Get Whatever You Want.

> The Washington Chapter, No. 176, has organized an educational department, to which members may send their questions and have them answered on the following subjects, viz., arithmetic, grammar, United States history, physiology, advanced English, algebra, Latin, Roman history, book-keeping, zoology, etc. Test papers are issued every three months on the above subjects.

George P. Paul,
824 River Street, Troy, N. Y.

> 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.

### WHATMAN'S PAPER FOR PRINTING.

Whatman's drawing or water-color paper is a very pure paper, and may be sensitized and used for photographic prints. The process is quite simple. Dissolve 75 grains of chloride of ammonium in 1 quart of water, filter through cotton or filtering-paper, and soak the paper in this solution for three minutes, or until it is thoroughly saturated; then lay it on a clean flat surface to dry, using care in handling so as to avoid stretching or tearing. This process is called "salting the paper." The sensitizing solution is prepared as follows: Dissolve ¾ oz. of nitrate of silver in 8 oz. of water. Take two-thirds of this solution, and precipitate the silver by adding strong ammonia water drop by drop. This will cause the solution to turn brown. Continue adding the ammonia till this brown precipitate is dissolved and the solution becomes clear again. As soon as it clears, turn in the rest of the silver solution which contains no ammonia. The mixture will again become discolored, and must be cleared by adding a few drops of acetic acid. Filter and place in a glass-stoppered bottle.

Fasten a sheet of the salted paper to a flat board, and with a soft wide brush apply the solution, brushing first one way of the paper and then the other. Brush very lightly so as not to roughen the paper. The solution must be applied by gas or lamp light, and the paper dried in the dark. When dry it is ready for printing. The prints should be deeper than those made on aristo-paper. Tone in any good combined bath. The following formula may be used; and is also suitable for any mat-surface paper: Dissolve 1 oz. of hypo in 6 oz. of water, and filter. Dissolve 7½ grains of pure trichloride of gold in 1 oz. of water. Add this gold solution drop by drop to the hypo solution, shaking the mixture frequently during the operation. This is a stock solution. To prepare the toning bath take 1½ oz. of this stock solution and mix it with 7½ oz. of a ten-per-cent. solution of hypo. (A ten-per-cent. solution is made by dissolving 1 oz. of hypo in 9 oz. of water.)

Place the prints in this bath without previous washing, and tone to the desired color. Almost any tone from reddish-brown to black may be obtained, the tone depending on the length of the time the print is left in the toning bath. Wash well and pin on a flat board, and set the board in an upright position till the prints are dry. The paper is of sufficient weight not to require mounting, and the paper should be cut large enough to leave a wide margin all round the print. For a 4 by 5 picture cut the paper 8 by 10 inches. In printing, the paper—except where the picture is to appear—should be covered. Take a piece of opaque paper the size of the sensitized sheet, and cut an opening in the centre a little smaller than the negative from which the print is to be made, and print the picture through this opening.

Another way to shield the paper from the light is to cut a square of paper the size desired for the finished print. Paste this lightly in the centre of a sheet of plain glass, and paint all the clear glass with Strauss's marl or Gihon's opaque. When the paste is dry remove the paper, and print through the clear glass in the centre.

Pictures made on Whatman's paper are not common, as few amateurs know how to make them, but the process is very easy. The paper can be sensitized with any of the solutions used for making tinted prints, directions for which have recently been given. A collection of fine prints made on Whatman's paper, using papers of different tints, is always much admired, and well repays one for the extra labor required to prepare the paper.

> Sir Knight Arthur F. Atkinson, 1711 I Street, Sacramento, Cal., who is president of the Niepce Chapter of the Round Table, a chapter devoted to the interests of amateur photographers, has sent out circulars to all the members asking their co-operation in reorganizing the chapter. This chapter has been very active, and has been a great help to its members. It should not be allowed to disband, and the charter members will gladly welcome any members of the Camera Club to its membership who will help to sustain the chapter. Send names and addresses to the president. The editor of this column is an associate member of the Niepce chapter, and hopes to see it as large and flourishing as formerly.

> Sir Knight Howard Whipple, N.D., asks for a formula for making a toning-bath out of dentists' scrap-gold. Sir Howard will find his answer in No. 868 of the Round Table.

> Sir Knight Richard P. M'Coun asks how to prepare paper for printing, and if the soda developer can be used over after the pyro has been added. Directions for preparing sensitive paper are given in this number. The developer should be thrown away after using, unless one is going to develop in a day or two. The developer works very slowly after having been once used, though it is useful in starting development when the exposure is over-timed.

> Sir Knight Burt Tuck asks if there is any remedy for over-exposed negatives. See No. 821 of the Round Table for treatment of over-exposed plates.

[Pg 835]

> 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.

A bill was introduced late in the session of the Congress which has just adjourned proposing to allow business-men to send out circulars or letters, with return envelopes, on which prepayment shall not be compulsory, but may be collected of the firm sending them out when returned to them. It is claimed that the postal revenues would be increased $30,000,000 per year. Probably the bill will be heard from next winter. Senator Cullom proposed that the printing of the postage-stamps be transferred to one of the bank-note companies. This would be a move in the right direction, as the government manufacture of the present issue has not been a success.

> O. H. Schell.—The ordinary English stamps were printed in sheets of 240. Each, stamp was different as far as the letters were concerned. The first stamp on the sheet bore A. B. in the upper corners, B. A. in the lower corners. The second stamp, A. C. in the upper, C. A. in the lower corners, etc. The second row bore B. A. in the upper, A. B. in the lower corners, etc.

> H. D. Graham.—The line under the word "Postage" in the Hartford die of the centennial envelope is single. In the Philadelphia die it is double. All revenue stamps and stamped papers are collected by philatelists who make a specialty of this branch. U. S. Locals and Telegraphs are largely collected. I never saw a Postage Due U.S. in blue. I presume you have an essay of proof color. Did you take it off of a letter?

> W. T. Fenner.—The comparative worth of cancelled and uncancelled stamps varies, but as a rule the unused stamps are worth much more. In some instances, however, where large quantities were printed and only a few used, the proportion is the other way. A set of Postage Due U.S. of the current issue is worth face value only.

> F. A. R.—The 3c. blue U. S. is 1869 issue, worth 1c. used, 15c. unused. The green centennial envelope is worth 25c.

> R. Brehmer, 15 High Street, Rutland, Vt., wishes to exchange stamps, especially with foreign collectors.

> E. R. Beere.—A Mexican dollar has more silver than an American dollar, but is worth only half as much. The 1806 half-cent is worth 15c.

> E. W. Keifer.—The 1895 U.S. silver dollar is worth face only. The usual custom among numismatists is to obtain the fresh coins directly from the mint through a Philadelphia agent.

> E. Hall.—Never cut a pair or a strip of unperforated stamps. They are worth more together than singly.

> Tom C.—All the low values U.S. issued during the last ten or twelve years can be bought of any dealer at twice face value, with the exception of a few rare shades. The dealers at present have a full supply, and many smaller post-offices still have quantities on hand. Probably in ten years or so dealers will have sold the bulk of these common stamps (at constantly increasing prices), and will then be glad to buy the same stamps back at much more than they sold them for. Age has nothing to do with value. You can buy Roman copper coins nearly two thousand years old at 10c. or 15c. each.

> H. M. Kaisinger.—This Stamp Department has been a feature of Harper's Round Table since December 19, 1893.

> J. P. Johnson.—The 1804 cent is worth $4; the 1804 half-cent is worth 15c.

> S. Mulhall.—Your stamp is an India Revenue, not collected in this country. The only exceptions are those revenue stamps surcharged "Service Postage," and used for postage in 1867. The surcharge is in green ink. The values of the four varieties are, ½ anna, $3; 2 annas, $12; 4 annas, $25; 8 annas, $75.

> J. O. Hall.—The 6 kr. Würtemberg 1858 issue, unused, is worth $300; used, 40c. The 1859 one is 9 kr.—used, 10c.; unused, $100.

> W. W. Jones.—The philatelic button can be bought of C. W. Kissenger, Box 236, Reading, Pa.

> S. Manning.—French colonial stamps bear the name of the colony in which they are used. Among the colonies are several in Africa and Madagascar. Why so many varieties are made it is impossible to say, but probably the profit in selling to collectors was taken into account by the French government. Oesterreich is Austria.

Philatus.

A garb of white well typifies
The purity that inward lies.
So Ivory's whiteness doth express
That pure clean soap brings cleanliness.

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

## You get what

## you ask for

if on the face and back of each card of the famous DeLONG Hooks and Eyes you find the words:

See that

## hump?

#### Richardson & DeLong Bros., Philadelphia.

Also makers of the CUPID Hair-Pin.

### When you come in hot and thirsty,—HIRES Root-beer.

Made only by The Charles E. Hires Co., Philadelphia.

A 25c. package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere.

### EARN A GOLD WATCH!

We wish to introduce our Teas and Baking Powder. Sell 50 lbs. to earn at Waltham Gold Watch and Chain; 25 lbs. for a Silver Watch and Chain; 10 lbs. for a Gold Ring; 50 lbs. for a Decorated Dinner Set; 75 lbs. for a Bicycle. Write for a Catalog and Order Blank to Dept. I

#### W. G. BAKER,

#### Springfield Mass.

### BALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS

has earned more money for boys than all other presses in the market. Boys, don't idle away your time when you can buy a self-inking printing-press, type, and complete outfit for $5.00. Write for particulars, there is money in it for you.

#### THE J. F. W. DORMAN CO.,

#### Baltimore, Md., U.S.A.

The New York Sun on April 11, 1896, said of

### HARPER'S

### PERIODICALS

They are handsome and delightful all, and are as friends that one is glad to see. They please the eye; the artistic sense is gratified by them; they overflow with varied material for the reader. They educate and entertain. They are the well-known and well-liked literary and artistic chronicles of the time. They are a credit to their publishers and to the discernment of the public that approves them. May they continue to be as admirable as they have been and as they are. Better could hardly be wished for them.

#### FOR SALE EVERYWHERE.

## By KIRK MUNROE

### SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES

A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."

THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH
CANOEMATES
RAFTMATES
CAMPMATES
DORYMATES

Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25

#### The "Mates" Series, Four Volumes in a Box, $5.00

### WAKULLA

A Story of Adventure in Florida.

### DERRICK STERLING

A Story of the Mines.

### CHRYSTAL, JACK & CO.

And Delta Bixby. Two Stories

### THE FLAMINGO FEATHER

#### Each one volume. Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, $1.00

#### Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York

[Pg 836]

### AT FROGINI'S RESTAURANT.

Oh, how we gloat
On our table d'hôte
At old Frogini's restaurant!
He gives us pies.
And pickled flies,
And everything else we chance to want.
He gives us fruits,
And candied boots,
And Saratoga chips frappé,
And cider green,
And iced benzine,
And never asks a cent of pay.
There's but one thing
In all the ring
You can't get at this fine hotel;
All kinds or eggs,
But not frogs' legs—
A fact you'd better note right well.
For if you asked Frogini for
Frogs' legs, he'd take you to the door,
And spite of all your fuss and roar,
He'd hurl you like a pile of bricks,
With many hard and fearful kicks,
Into the street, and cry, "My dear,
That's how we serve up frogs' legs here."

### A FEW FOURTH OF JULY HINTS.

I.—When the Fourth of July is not more than a week or two off, it is well to make your preparations fittingly to celebrate the glorious Independence day, and not wait until the day itself to get ready.

II.—To enjoy thoroughly all the pleasures of the blissful anniversary, purchase a pair of tight-fitting asbestos gloves. With a pair of asbestos gloves on, you could hold the pin of a pin-wheel in your hand without getting your hand burned.

III.—Be very kind in these late June days to your uncles and your aunts and your grandmothers. When the writer was a small boy he was very kind to seven uncles, six aunts, and two grandmothers for fourteen days before the Fourth of July, with the result that the seven uncles gave him half a dollar each, the six aunts presented him with a quarter apiece, and the two grandmothers joined in presenting him with a five-dollar bill, so that on the morning of the Fourth of July he was the proud possessor of ten dollars; and ten dollars, with fire-crackers selling at the rate of ten for one cent, meant that the writer could have had 10,000 fire-crackers to set off. It must be said, however, that he set off only 5000 of them, and spent the balance on soda-water, two glasses of which, like a good boy, he gave to his two grandmothers.

IV.—When the Fourth comes do not forget to rise up at half past three in the morning. There is not much fun in setting off fire-crackers in broad daylight when everybody is wide-awake; and besides this, the big boys always start in with cannon, and if you lie in bed after half past three you are apt to miss the greatest noise of the day.

V.—If you live in a neighborhood where there are a number of reckless boys, do not fail to wear a mask. Reckless boys do not look where they throw their lighted crackers, as a rule, and it has happened that innocent little fellows have had their noses burned by the carelessness of others. A mask will save the bridge of your nose, and of course you all know that if the bridge of your nose is burned it is a hard thing to get over.

VI.—Do not throw your torpedoes at the poor little cats that wander forlornly about. The poor little cats are so soft that the torpedoes merely hurt them, without going off, so that neither you nor the cats can possibly enjoy the fun of it.

VII.—Keep on the right side of the cook. Do not irritate her, and give her to understand that she is the dearest, nicest old cook in the world, for she is the custodian of all the empty lard and mustard cans in the house; and when you come right down to it, there is more fun and noise to be had out of a bundle of fire-crackers set off in a lard or mustard can than in two packs touched off in the open air. And what is more, if you burn your fingers she will in most cases be the person you can reach the quickest, and who will soothe your trouble and pain by putting flour and butter on your blisters.

VIII.—Be careful where you lay your lighted pieces of punk. The writer once put a lighted piece of punk on the floor of the back piazza, and, forgetting it, sat down upon it five minutes later. There was an explosion right away, of grief.

IX.—Be generous to your little girl friends. Remember that when your fire-crackers have given out they may have some torpedoes left.

X.—When night comes on, no matter how early in the morning you may have got up, remember not to get sleepy. The best part of the Fourth of July, after all, is in the sky-rockets and roman-candles and pin-wheels.

XI.—Do not under any circumstances set off sissers in the palm of your hand. The writer did that once, and he has really never enjoyed the Fourth of July since.

XII.—And, finally, don't forget that you are an American who will some day be a man or woman, and try to do things on the Fourth which, when you get to be a man or a woman, will make you proud of the day, yourself, and your country. This hint is, after all, the most important one of all, and if you will ask your uncles or your aunts or your dear old grandmothers to tell you all about it—the day, how it came to be, and what it means—now, a week or two before the day dawns, you will enjoy it all the more, and will be happy to think that you live in the land which is the only one that celebrates "the glorious Fourth."

### GOING OFF.

"Papa, where are we going this summer?"

"I don't know, Willie. Off somewhere."

"Off, eh?" said Willie. "Like fire-crackers?"

### A MAGNIFICENT LAP.

"I wish my daddy was a centiped," said Jack. "If he had a hundred legs, what a splendid lap I'd have to sit on! Most an acre, I guess."

### WALLIE'S VIEW OF IT.

"I guess that bird wishes he knew how to swim," said Wallie. "He's gone and built a nest in our roof gutters, and if he can't swim he's got to travel or get drownded."

### A NEW IDEA.

"George Washington must have been a awful tired man," said Jack.

"Tired? Why?" asked his father.

"It says here he couldn't lie," said Jack, referring to his book. "When I'm tired I can lie down."

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, JUNE 23, 1896 ***
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