Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

Copyright, 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1897. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.

VOL. XVIII.--NO. 903. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

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[Illustration]

THE RINGGOLD ARCHERS.

A REMINISCENCE.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.


When I was a boy I belonged to a small company of young fellows, all
under fourteen, who had banded themselves together for the purpose of
practising archery. Our company owed its name to our great admiration
for Major Ringgold, about whose valiant exploits in the Mexican war we
had often read and talked. He was a romantic man, and romance always has
a charm for the young, even when they do not understand it. The Major
was a brave cavalryman, and we had seen pictures of him charging at the
head of his horsemen, with his long hair floating in the wind. In this
long hair lay his romance; for we had heard the story that, having been
crossed in love, he vowed he would never again cut his hair. The point
of this resolution we did not then understand, nor can I say that I
fully comprehend it now, but I am quite sure that each one of us would
have been perfectly willing to be crossed in love if the result should
be that we would charge at the head of some brave cavalrymen, with our
sword drawn and our long hair floating in the breeze.

When we had decided upon the name of our company, and had elected
officers, we considered that the next most important thing was to
provide ourselves with a uniform dress. This subject did not occasion
very much discussion. The color for an archer could be nothing else than
green; and as to the cut and general make-up of the dress, it would have
to be very simple, for none of us were able to afford an elaborate
uniform, so it was decided that a blouse long enough to cover our
ordinary coats and fasten around the waist with a belt would be quite
sufficient. As to our head-gear--we all wore straw hats, and if we chose
to put feathers in them we could do so, but this was left for future
consideration.

The material of our uniform was determined by the state of our finances.
When each one of us had put into the treasury all the money he could
afford, it was plain to see that our blouses must be made of some cheap
stuff.

One of our members had some family connection with the dry-goods
business, and he informed us that the best thing to do would be to buy a
whole piece of goods, for in that way we could get it cheaper, and he
was sure that our money would be sufficient to buy a piece of cotton
cloth good enough for our purposes.

It was early in the afternoon of a summer day that the meeting was held
at which the matter of the uniform was decided upon, and as it was still
light, we thought it well to go immediately and buy our material. If we
delayed, something might happen to our money.

Therefore in a body we repaired to a dry-goods store, and it was not
long before we found a piece of goods which we thought would suit us. It
was a little glittering upon one side, and it was rather stiffer than we
thought an archer's dress should be, but if we made our blouses with the
wrong side of the material out, they would look well enough, and we had
no doubt that the stiffness would come out after we had worn them for a
time, especially if we were obliged to encounter storms, which true
archers should never fear.

Triumphantly we carried our piece of goods to the house of one of the
members, and having found out how much of the material would be
necessary to make a blouse, we cut it up into suitable portions, one of
which was given to each member, and he was expected to take it home and
have some one of his family cut it out and make it for him.

There was a very early meeting the next morning at the house of our
Captain, and every boy brought with him his allotted portion of goods.
We were all horrified--the stuff was blue, and not green! The gas had
been lighted in the store when we bought it, and instead of Robin Hood
green we had picked out a piece of bright blue material! This mistake
would have been a matter of no importance had we not been in such haste
to divide the stuff among the members. If the piece had been left
entire, we could have easily exchanged it, but now this was impossible.

We had a long meeting and much discussion; but as we had bought our
material, and as we had no money to buy more, we at last regretfully
concluded that the best thing we could do would be to make up our
blouses of the blue, and try to forget that they ought to be green.

Vacation was passing, and there was no time to be lost if we expected to
make a successful summer campaign, and our uniforms were immediately put
into the hands of our mothers, sisters, and aunts. In most cases there
was but little trouble in inducing these good relatives to make the
blouses, although I think we were all of us told that it would have been
a great deal better if we had asked some lady to buy our goods for us.
But as this would have deprived us of a great and independent pleasure,
it should hardly have been expected.

There was an exception, however, to the ready consent of our families to
do our tailoring-work. The mother of one of our members objected to her
son's wearing a uniform of any sort, and although she did not actually
forbid his doing so, she would have nothing to do with the fabrication
of it. Therefore it was that the poor boy, in the seclusion of his
chamber, set to work to make it himself. Some of us found him at this
work just as he was about to cut it out; we took it from him, and one of
us carried it home, where it was properly made.

While work was going on upon our uniforms we thought it well to attend
to the armament of our company, and those who did not possess bows and
arrows were ordered to get them as soon as possible, no matter what
family assessments might be necessary. Our archery weapons were not of a
fancy sort. We had no bows of yew, nor arrows pointed with steel and
tipped with fine feathers; but we had good bows, made by a cooper of our
acquaintance, and our blunt-headed arrows often sped well to the mark,
although they did not stick there. We had discussed the propriety of
inserting pieces of sharpened iron into the heads of these arrows, but
this improvement having been made known to some of our parents had been
strictly forbidden.

As soon as our garments were finished we held a full meeting, in which
we all appeared in our new uniforms, and to say that the result was
satisfactory would be to make a misstatement. In the city in which we
lived there was a great deal of charcoal used, and this fuel was carried
about the streets in wagons with high sides, each accompanied by two
men, one of whom marched in front, ringing a bell and crying,
"Charcoal!" while the other attended to the horse, and shovelled out the
charcoal whenever a purchaser hailed him from a house. These men
invariably dressed in long blue gowns, and when we were gathered
together, attired in our uniforms, there was not one of us who was not
immediately reminded of the charcoal-men.

Some were disgusted, and some laughed, but there was no remedy. There
were but two things we could do: we must wear our blue blouses, or we
must go out on our archery expeditious in our ordinary clothes. In the
latter case we would be a mere party of boys, whereas if we marched
forth in our uniforms--no matter what color they might be--we were the
Ringgold Archers. We chose to stand by our name, our purpose, and our
organization.

On the outskirts of our city there were open country, woods, and
streams, and it was here that we were to begin our life of "Merrie men
under the green-wood tree," and our first expedition was made without
delay. Early one afternoon we marched forth into the streets--seven of
us--each wearing his blue blouse, his arrows stuck in his belt, and his
unstrung bow in his hand. We attracted a good deal of attention. There
were people who looked at us and laughed, there were others who
wondered, and during our march through town we frequently met with
youngsters who cried "Charcoal!" and then ran away. Seven boys--no
matter how they might be dressed--were not to be trifled with.

When we reached the country we had a fine time. The birds did not laugh
at us, the wild flowers and bushes took no notice of us, except when
some sociable blackberry bush endeavored to detain us by seizing the
skirts of our flowing robes, and the trees which we used as targets did
not always refuse to be hit, whether they represented men or deer, or
even an on-coming bear--for there were bold fellows in our company, with
good imaginations.

But I cannot tell all the bloodless pleasures of our chase, for I must
hasten to relate how this first expedition of the Ringgold Archers was
its last. Toward the close of the day, well satisfied with our
afternoon's sport, we were returning along a quiet and almost deserted
country road, when we met two rough-looking young men.

These fellows, when they beheld the strange procession of blue-clad boys
appearing around a turn in the road, were greatly impressed, and they
burst into the most vociferous laughter. Of course we did not like this,
and we would have been content to pass on, treating the disrespectful
fellows with silent contempt; but this the young men did not permit.
They stopped us and wanted to know why we were dressed in these blue
shirts, and what we intended to do with our bows and arrows. When our
organization and our purposes had been explained, they were not
satisfied. They examined our arms, and ridiculed them, as they were
sure they would not kill anything. They laughed again at our uniform,
making those allusions to charcoal which had become familiar to us, and
in other ways treated our band with the discourtesy which, although
good-humored, was extremely disagreeable to us. When they had jeered at
us to their satisfaction, they went their way.

There were two members of our company whose proud souls could not brook
this treatment, and they determined that they would give these impudent
fellows a taste of their quality. They followed the young men a little
way, and then ran up a low bank on the side of the road. There they
fitted arrows to their bows, and prepared to shoot at the fellows who
had insulted them.

As soon as the rest of us saw what our companions proposed to do, we
hurried to them, and urged them to come down and let the young men
alone; it would not do to rouse the anger of such fellows, who looked as
if they might be very rough customers if they chose to be. But our bold
companions were not to be restrained; their souls chafed under their
injuries, and before we could stop them, each had drawn an arrow to its
head and let it fly at the young men, who were now barely within range.
One of the arrows struck its mark, and the other fell near by.

Instantly the enemy stopped and turned, and beholding the two boys
standing on the bank with their bows in their hands, had no reason to
ask who had shot at them. But instead of hurrying away to avoid another
discharge of arrows from these bold archers, the young men made use of
some very violent language, and without the slightest hesitation ran
towards the two boys, who turned and fled across a field.

The chase was short, for the young men were powerful runners. The
valiant archers were caught by the collars of their blue uniforms, their
bows were wrenched from their hands, and the next moment each one of
them was receiving a sound drubbing with his own weapons. The arrows
which they had in their belts were taken and broken, and they were told
in very strong language that if they did not get out of sight as fast as
they could they would have another whipping. This advice was taken, and
the disarmed archers fled.

All this happened so quickly that the other members of the Ringgold
Archers had no chance to do anything in defence of their comrades, even
if they had felt able. But now we perceived that we must do something to
defend ourselves, for the young men--still speaking angrily--advanced
towards us. We stood our ground, for we had seen that there was no use
in running; and, besides, why should we run? We had done no wrong to any
one.

The young men jumped down from the bank, and without delay or
explanation ordered all of us to surrender our arms. To this we
vehemently objected. We had committed no offence towards them; we had
even advised our comrades to refrain from their attack, and there was no
reason why we should give up our bows and arrows. But the young men were
in no mood to consider reasons. They seized our bows, forced them from
our hands, and jerked our arrows from our belts. I can remember now how
stoutly I held on to my bow, and how soon I became convinced of the
superiority of a man's strength over that of a boy.

Our disarmament was complete; not a bow or arrow was left to us. We
continued to expostulate against the injustice that had been done to us,
but the two fellows paid not the slightest attention to our words.
Pleased with their easy victory, they began to amuse themselves.
Standing at a little distance from us, they discharged our arrows at
various marks. They were miserable shots, and could not hit anything,
and so, on concluding that this was no fun, they shot our arrows far and
wide into the thickets, where it would be almost impossible to find them
again.

This exercise seemed to dissipate their anger, and when the arrows were
all gone they came to us and threw all our bows on the ground.

"There!" said one of them. "You can take them and go home with them, and
the best thing you can do is to give up coming out here with your bows
and arrows and stick to your charcoal!"

Sadly the Ringgold Archers resumed their homeward march, and it was not
long before they were joined by their two comrades, who had been hiding
in the bushes. Some of us were inclined to give the young scamps another
whipping for getting us into such a scrape, and we were the more angry
because they did not seem in the least sorry for what they had done; but
finally the matter was smoothed over, and we marched peaceably on
together.

Before they reached the outskirts of the city the Ringgold Archers
halted and took off their uniforms. Most of these were sadly bedraggled
and torn in the struggles with the young men, and, furthermore, they
seemed more like the gowns of the charcoal-men than they had done
before. Each of us rolled his uniform around his bow and carried them
home under his arm, and such of us as had feathers in our hats took them
out and threw them away.

That was the last expedition of the Ringgold Archers. Although we gave
up the idea of emulating the deeds of Robin Hood, Little John, and Friar
Tuck, some of us became very good amateur archers.

As to Major Ringgold, his blighted affections and his flowing hair, they
faded out of our minds with the memory of our torn and discarded
uniforms of blue.




A CONSTABULARY SLIP.

BY H. G. PAINE.


      When the snow falls in the city,
      Oh, it seems a dreadful pity!
  And it costs a lot to cart it all away;
      But the boys who on the side-
      Walk make the dangerous slide
  Would like to have the snow come every day.

      Oh, it's fun to hear them shout,
      As they slip and slide about,
  Like some eerie, cheery spirits of the storm;
      But just call out, "Cheese the cop!"
      And how suddenly they stop!
  For the "copper" has a duty to perform.

      "Now yous fellies git a gait,"
      He exclaims, and, if they wait,
  "Come, now, yous, jus' chase yourselves right off de block!"
      But I should not be surprised
      If he often sympathized
  With his victims, and his heart were _not_ a rock.

      For 'twas but the other night,
      When no roundsman was in sight,
  That I saw a "copper" running down the street.
      Was he chasing of a thief?
      Don't you err in that belief--
  He was sliding on each slide along his beat.

       *       *       *       *       *

ONE-LEGGED DUCKS.

Once a gentleman reproved his negro servant for serving a duck for dinner
to which there was only one leg. He suspected Sam of having eaten the
missing limb.

"Oh, no, sir," replied Sam; "these ducks have only one leg!"

"Indeed!" said the master. "I must see them."

So the next morning he told Sam to show him the one-legged ducks. Sam
conducted his master to the poultry-yard, and pointed to half a dozen
ducks, each standing on one leg near the pond.

"There, sah!" he exclaimed.

The master waved his arms, and cried out, "Shoo! shoo!" and the ducks
scampered away.

"How about that?" he said, turning to Sam.

"That's right, sah," returned Sam, calmly; "but why didn't yo' shoo de
oder duck, las' night?"




A VALENTINE PARTY.

BY MARY B. SLEIGHT.


The Chadwick girls, one February morning, were deep in consultation as to
the best way in which to entertain their friend Dorothy Adams, who was
coming the next week to make them a two days' visit.

"Why not have a valentine party instead of a tea?" suggested Catharine.
"Teas are so stiff and poky when one is not acquainted with any of the
other guests, and Dorothy is one that likes a thoroughly good time."

"A valentine party would be much more lively, of course," said Helen;
"but where in the world could we find enough valentines to go round?"

"Write them, the same as the girls did in Grandmother Livingston's day,"
answered Catharine. "Even if we haven't any especial gift for
verse-making, we can string some passable rhymes together, I hope."

"How would it do," asked stately Elizabeth, beginning to be interested,
"to have bows or rosettes of ribbon--two of each color--distributed, and
let each person take for a partner the one that wears the corresponding
badge? Then, of course, there would have to be two sets of Valentines.
For example-- Here, give me your pencil, Catharine, please, and that
empty envelope. How would this do?

"Blue No. 1, fastening her badge to the lapel of her partner's coat:

  "As ladies fair, in days of old,
    To chosen knights their colors gave,
        This ribbon blue
        I give to you;
    And this, dear Valentine, I crave,
  That you the little badge will take,
  And bravely wear it for my sake.

"And something like this for an answer:

"Blue No. 2 (fastening his own badge on his lady's gown):

  "Of all the merry throng to-night,
  With colors rich and rare bedight,
  Believe me, none will prove more true
  Than he who wears this bonny blue."

"Bravo, Beth!" cried the others.

"Verily I believe it's catching," exclaimed Helen. "I too have an idea.
Quick, give me a pencil!" And straightway all three fell to scribbling,
each taking a different color for her subject.

And when they had made an end of cudgelling their brains, the following
rhymes were ready to be copied:

Red, No. 1--

  Red as my own is the badge I seek,
  And red as a rose is the wearer's cheek.
    Why art thou thrilling, heart of mine?
  Ah, if I knew they were both for me,
  The badge and the blush, on bended knee
    I would sue for the love of my Valentine.

No. 2.--

  This ruddy bow for thee I bind.
  Be true, and thou wilt ever find
  Warm is the heart that wears the red;
  No scorn nor coldness needst thou dread.

Pink, No. 1--

  My lady fair doth wear the tint
    That deep within the sea-shell glows,
  But, like the shell beneath the pink,
    Her heart is white as Alpine snows.

No. 2--

  I would this little knot of pink
  Might be, dear Valentine, the link,
  Where'er the lines for us be cast,
  To hold our friendship firm and fast.

Yellow, No. 1--

  Dear Valentine, one boon I ask--
  Pray make it not a loveless task,
  Nor think me somewhat overbold--
    When you this yellow knot espy,
    Ask not to-night the reason why,
  Within your own my hand enfold.

No. 2--

  Oh, maiden fair, whose badge is yellow,
        Let heart and hand
        Together band,
  And find in me your happy fellow.

Green, No. 1--

  Green as the larch's bursting buds
    When spring is everywhere afield,
  This pledge of all my heart's desire
    To thee, sweet Valentine, I yield.

No. 2--

  Leal throbs the heart beneath the sheen
  That mates thy knot of tender green.
  If thou, dear knight, that heart wouldst woo,
  Be this thy motto, "Brave and true."

A badge of two colors, violet and orange, No. 1--

        Who wears to-night
        The colors bright
  That in this radiant badge entwine,
    I single from the lovely ranks,
  And claim her for my Valentine.

No. 2--

  A happy Valentine is she
    Whose fortune in this badge is told,
  For violet for heart's ease stands,
    And orange for the heart of gold.

Brown, No. 1--

  Ah me! no golden gift have I
    To offer to my lady fair,
  And much I fear she will not deign
    This tawny gift of mine to wear.

Accepting his and fastening hers to his lapel.

No. 2--

  Though sombre-hued this badge may seem,
  Disdain it not, for oft, I deem,
  Those forced to wear life's thrifty brown
  Are worthy of love's brightest crown.

A white satin star, No. 1--

  The bravest knight in Arthur's train
  Was he who wore with ne'er a stain
    The shining badge of purity;
  And since I know that thou art true,
  And that my trust I ne'er shall rue,
    This token white I yield to thee.

No. 2--

  Thy gift, as pure as thy radiant brow,
  I take, dear heart, with the reverent vow
  That whether the way be near or far,
  I'll follow the lead of my lady's star.

"There!" said Helen. "Counting in the first two, we have sixteen, and
the two sets must be put in separate baskets and drawn for. The next
question is, what are the people to do after they find their partners?"

"We must seat each couple at a table and give them some puzzle or
problem to work out together," said Catharine, promptly. "How would 'An
Astronomical Wedding-Journey' answer? You can get that up, Beth--you are
so fond of star-gazing; but don't make it too prosy."

"I'll attempt it only on one condition," answered Elizabeth: "neither of
you must see it until it is given to the rest."

"Very well, Beth; we'll leave you to yourself while we copy the
valentines."

And this is what Elizabeth set them to pondering over on St. Valentine's
eve:

AN ASTRONOMICAL WEDDING-JOURNEY.

     Once upon a time it chanced that the ---- in the ---- (satellite of
     the earth) fell desperately in love with a certain fair ---- (sixth
     sign of the zodiac), and the latter, having first dutifully asked
     her ----' (one of the primary planets) permission, readily
     consented to marry him. For bridemaids they chose ---- (one of the
     Northern constellations who was noted for her shining hair), and
     ---- (a Northern constellation, a princess who had once been
     chained to a rock on the sea-shore); while for groomsmen they had
     the twin brothers ---- and ---- (third sign of the zodiac).

     At the wedding-breakfast the bride sat in ----'s chair (a Northern
     constellation), and as they were fond of sea-food, they had on the
     menu deviled ---- (fourth sign of the zodiac) and broiled
     ---- (twelfth sign of the zodiac), with ---- (eleventh sign of the
     zodiac) for their water-carrier.

     After breakfast they had a game of ---- and ---- (Northern
     constellation) with their guests; and the bride, being a fine
     musician, entertained them by playing the ---- (Northern
     constellation).

     As there were no railroads in the country, they harnessed
     ---- (Northern constellation) to Charles's ---- (Northern
     constellation), and took the route known as 'The ---- ----.'

     "It seems very selfish to be seeking only our own pleasure,"
     suggested the bride, who, like every truly happy bride, wanted all
     the world to share her joy; and the groom, being a sworn knight,
     decided that they would go in search of the lost ----. Becoming
     thirsty on the journey, they stopped at a farm-house well.

     "You can drink from the little ----," said the groom, "and I from
     the big ----."

     But a great ---- (a Southern constellation) began barking at them,
     and before they could get back to the wagon they were butted by a
     vicious ---- (first sign of the zodiac), and came near being tossed
     by an angry ---- (second sign of the zodiac). A little later, in
     passing through a thicket, they met a roaring ---- (fifth sign of
     the zodiac). But the groom, being a fine ---- (ninth sign of the
     zodiac), slew him with an ---- (Northern constellation), and when
     shortly afterward they encountered a great grizzly ---- and a little
     one (Northern constellations), he made an end of the old one in the
     same way. But the little one was too bright for him, and chasing
     the tip of his tail, they presently reached that long-sought ----
     around which the ---- are the only dancers on May-day. For the
     remainder of the journey there was nothing to mar their pleasure;
     but after they reached the groom's palace, the trail of the ----
     (Northern constellation) soon made a change, for the groom in his
     own house, like many another husband, was as eccentric as a ----,
     flying off in a ---- on the slightest provocation, and though he
     had always been reputed to be made of gold, he proved so poor that
     he could afford no ---- except what he borrowed from his generous
     father, the ----, whom he disrespectfully called "Old ----."

     The bride in her disappointment declared that he had been weighed
     in the ---- (seventh sign of the zodiac) and found wanting, and
     also charged him with having become so infatuated with ---- (the
     most beautiful of the planets), that she herself was totally ----.
     And though he protested that she was still his morning and his
     evening ----, and that he would willingly endure for her the labors
     of ---- (Northern constellation), she refused to be reconciled.
     Whereupon he made way with himself by taking an overdose of ----
     (one of the planets), and the bride in a fit of remorse hid a ----
     (eighth sign of the zodiac) in her bosom, and suffered the fate of
     ---- (Egyptian queen).

A copy of this puzzle having been given to each couple, half an hour was
allowed for the filling of the blank spaces, after which prizes were
awarded to those who had made out the papers correctly.

[Illustration: EACH COUPLE HAD A COPY OF THE PUZZLE.]




THE MIDDLETON BOWL[1]

[1] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 898.

BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.


CHAPTER VI.

It was four o'clock in the morning before the household began to settle
down into its accustomed quiet. Miss Joanna was at last sleeping
quietly, and the doctor assured the sisters that they need fear no
further danger. He begged them to go to their rooms and try to get some
rest, for he saw that the four ladies were in a state of nervous
excitement which was almost alarming. Miss Middleton declared that she
should not leave her sister Joanna, but she begged the others to follow
the doctor's advice. Miss Thomasine, as she passed Theodora's room,
opened the door quietly and looked in. She intended to tell her niece,
if she were awake, that her aunt Joanna was decidedly better.

But when Miss Thomasine peeped into the room, which was but dimly
lighted, she was astonished to find that Theodora was not there. She
stepped inside and looked again. The bed was empty, as was also the
lounge. The room was not large, and one could see at a glance that it
was not occupied.

Miss Thomasine felt a shock similar to the one which she had experienced
when she was told that Joanna "had one of her attacks." Where could the
child be?

In the hall she met Miss Dorcas and Miss Melissa.

"Theodora is not in her room," she whispered. "Where do you suppose she
is, sisters? And what had we better do?"

The three stood and looked at one another. Without their two ruling
spirits Adaline and Joanna, whose words were always law, the three
younger sisters felt much as if they were a ship deprived of both
captain and pilot in a stormy sea.

They drew a step nearer to one another.

"Perhaps," said Miss Melissa--"perhaps--there's no knowing; she might do
anything!--she went again--"

"Went where?" asked Miss Dorcas. "Do you mean on the--the--"

"Do you mean the bicycle?" asked Miss Thomasine, courageously uttering
the obnoxious word.

Miss Melissa nodded.

"Oh, it could not be!" said Miss Dorcas.

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Miss Thomasine. "The child is somewhere in
the house, and we must look for her."

They investigated the rooms on the second floor with no success, and
then they descended the broad stairs, one behind the other, each clad in
a flowered dressing-gown and enveloped in a worsted shawl, and each one
carrying a lighted candle in a tall silver candlestick.

Over their heads, shorn of the additional braids which adorned them by
day, and in no state to be seen by the doctor or even by the servants,
each sister had tied a white knit "cloud." Even Miss Melissa, when she
removed her bonnet after her futile attempt to summon the doctor, had
again adjusted her cloud.

And now they crept down their own staircase feeling strangely ill at
ease. Never before had they been downstairs at this hour and in this
costume, but Theodora must be found.

[Illustration: THEODORA LAY ON THE SOFA ASLEEP.]

The parlor door stood open at the foot of the stairs. It was dark there
now, for the moon had set and it was not yet dawn. The three ladies
gathered at the threshold, and holding their candles on high, peered
into the room. There, on the sofa, lay Theodora, one arm hanging over
the side, the other tossed above her head. As the aunts drew nearer she
moved a little, and murmured in her sleep: "Of course I believe you.
It's dreadful not to be believed."

Then the gleam of the three candles shone full in her face and she
wakened, her eyes blinking in the light.

"Why, what is it?" she cried, starting up in terror and gazing at the
three odd figures. "Where am I, and who are you? Who _are_ you, I say?"

"My dear Teddy," said Miss Thomasine, "do not be alarmed! Do you not
know us?"

"Why, it's Aunt Tom," said their niece, wonderingly, "and Aunt Dorcas,
and Aunt Melissa! You don't know how funny you look! Have you been out
to walk?"

"Out to walk!" repeated Miss Dorcas, severely. "Do you know that it is
the middle of the night?"

"Is it, really? Then how did I get here? Oh, I remember! Aunt Joanna was
ill, and I went on Arthur's wheel, and then I came down here and found
Andy Morse. Oh, it has been _such_ an exciting night! I gave him
something to eat in the kitchen. I hope you won't mind, but he was so
hungry. And he has promised to be good after this."

The three aunts looked at one another and then at Teddy's flushed face.
Miss Thomasine felt her pulse and asked to see her tongue.

"You have been dreaming, I suppose. Come up stairs and go to bed, my
dear."

"But I didn't dream that, Aunt Tom. Andy Morse was really here, and I
gave him some money to go away with. I had some in my bank, you know, so
I could do what I liked with it."

"She grows more and more incoherent," said Miss Dorcas.

"I think, sisters," murmured Miss Melissa, "that--that--it would be as
well--the doctor right here--"

"I agree with you," said Miss Thomasine; "she most certainly is not
well, and the doctor had better see her. Teddy dear, come up stairs.
Lean on me if you feel at all giddy."

"I'm not a bit giddy," cried Theodora, springing to her feet, "and I
don't know what you are talking about. Why must I see the doctor? I am
not sick, and oh, I do want to tell you about Andy Morse!"

Again the sisters looked significantly at one another. Then Miss
Thomasine took one of Teddy's hands and Miss Dorcas possessed herself of
the other, while Miss Melissa walked in front with two of the candles.

"We must get her to bed as quietly as possible," said Miss Thomasine.
"Oh, what a night this has been!"

"I was sure that ride would be too much for her," said Miss Dorcas.

"Is it--do you think it can be? I have heard of it--brain fever?"
whispered Miss Melissa, turning in affright.

"What do you all mean?" exclaimed Teddy, wrenching her hands away from
her aunts. "I tell you I'm not a bit sick, and I do wish you would let
me go up stairs alone! And I don't see why you won't believe what I say.
Are you never going to believe me again? I wish you would let me tell
you about Andy Morse. He hid behind the big sofa, and I heard him there,
and asked him to come out. Do you know, that poor boy hadn't had a thing
to eat for two days! Just think of it! And he was so desperate he came
here to steal something. I don't wonder--do you?"

The sisters had again looked at one another meaningly, and during this
speech Miss Dorcas had left the room. Presently she returned with the
doctor.

"What's all this?" he asked. "Teddy ill, after saving her aunt's life,
as she did? She doesn't look very ill."

"Of course I'm not ill, Dr. Morton! They won't believe me when I say
that Andy Morse was hiding here and I gave him something to eat and the
money out of my bank. If you go into the kitchen you will see the plates
and things on the table, and if you go up to my room you will see the
empty bank. I do wish my father and mother were here!" she added. "I'm
just tired of not being believed."

The doctor felt her pulse and looked at her.

"I believe you, my child," he said. "You are as well as I am, and I have
no doubt Andy Morse was here. He is quite capable of anything. I am
sorry you gave him your money, for he doesn't deserve it, but I quite
believe you."

Theodora glanced at him gratefully, and from that moment she considered
Dr. Morton one of her best friends. He asked her more particularly
about the occurrences of the night, and she gave him a detailed history
of it from the time when she returned from her ride.

"Well, well," he said, when he heard how she had stood in the moonlight
and invited the intruder to come forth--"well, well! you're the girl for
my mind. And didn't you feel afraid?"

"Why, yes, I suppose I was afraid," said she. "But there was nothing
else to be done that I could think of, and so I had to do it."

At which the doctor chuckled more appreciatively than ever.

Miss Joanna was much better in the morning, and in a few days was quite
convalescent. The sisters were all more or less prostrated by this
thrilling night, and it was a week before the household affairs were
running with their accustomed smoothness, and before the Misses
Middleton could turn their thoughts and their conversation to the
ordinary concerns of life.

A new idea and a very startling one had been presented to them, too. Dr.
Morton, upon each of his visits to Miss Joanna, had made some remark
upon Theodora's courage, upon her presence of mind, upon her general
excellence. He declared that she, and she alone, had been the means of
saving her aunt's life, and in his opinion she should be rewarded not
only for that, but for having prevented a bold and startling robbery.

Undoubtedly Andy Morse, if left to himself, would have carried away the
greater part of the Misses Middleton's treasures. According to Dr.
Morton, if it had not been for Teddy, her aunts, when they descended in
the morning, would have found their large drawing-room absolutely bare
and empty. The girl should certainly be rewarded, and no better token of
her aunts' gratitude and regard could be found than a bicycle. Not only
would it give her pleasure, but it would also be of benefit to her
health.

Never before did Dr. Morton discourse so long and so earnestly, and the
result was that he gained his point. The ladies held out as long as they
could, but he was too much for them.

As Miss Joanna remarked, "When we feel that Theodora really did us such
a service, it seems as if we should waive our prejudices."

And for Miss Joanna to acknowledge this, and to call "prejudices" the
feelings which had hitherto been designated as "principles" meant a
great deal. Miss Thomasine had from the first been in favor of buying
the wheel, and had strongly urged it; but not until Miss Joanna thus
expressed herself did Miss Middleton actually give her consent.

John, the old coachman, now fortunately recovered from his attack of
rheumatism, could scarcely believe his ears when Miss Middleton ordered
him to drive to the large bicycle-shop on Main Street.

The carriage with its four occupants reached the shop in due time, and
the ladies entered. They looked about in some bewilderment at the vast
number of bicycles that were stacked in the place, and the thought that
they could all whirl, as wheels will, made them positively dizzy. Miss
Melissa was glad that she had brought her salts, and she held them first
to one nostril, then to the other.

"What can I do for you, ladies?" asked the salesman, as he came forward.

"We wish to look at bi-cy-cles," said Miss Middleton, wondering if it
could be really she who was making this request, and wishing more than
ever that Miss Joanna were there to take the lead.

"Ah, indeed? Something for yourselves, no doubt?"

"Not by any means," said Miss Middleton, coldly, and with all the
"Middleton manner" that she could summon to her aid. "We are about to
purchase a bi-cy-cle for our niece."

"Oh, certainly! I didn't see her at first. So many ladies do ride, that
I thought-- However, here is one that I am sure your niece will
like--light weight, not more than twenty pounds; improved chain and
skirt guards; made in such a way that there is a minimum degree of
weight with a maximum amount of safety; small narrow sweep of
handle-bar; latest invention in pedals; small adjustable saddle--most
comfortable that is made--though if your niece prefers one of the new
anatomical saddles, that can easily be arranged; bell, brake, lantern,
and cyclometer thrown in if you pay cash down, together with a full
supply of cement, patches, plugs, twine, and needle for a punctured
tire, also oil-can, pump, and wrench. Or, if you don't fancy this model,
here is another--twenty-one pounds, self-mending tires in case of
punctures--"

"Oh, please stop a moment!" cried Miss Middleton. "My dear sisters, I
scarcely know what to think. If only Joanna were here! I never dreamed
that there were so many accessories to a bi-cy-cle. It seems as if we
were getting a great deal for the money."

"A great deal, madam, I do assure you, and at the same time very light
weight. To be sure, the tendency this year is to make heavier machines,
but this being a miss's wheel, it is absolutely strong, while being at
the same time exceedingly light. Just lift it yourself, madam, and you
will see."

And before she realized what she was doing, Miss Middleton had laid
aside her little satchel and her sunshade, and was actually lifting a
bicycle. Each sister in turn, not to be outdone, went through the same
form.

One wheel after another was brought forward, and each one seemed to
possess more virtues than its predecessor. The three Misses Middleton
grew more and more bewildered, while Theodora began to think that the
matter would never be settled. She had no opportunity for stating her
preference, if she had any, for her aunts appeared to think that she
knew nothing at all on the subject.

Their interest increased with their bewilderment, and they soon found
themselves conversing with ease about gear and ball-bearings, and the
salesman did not allow himself even to smile when Miss Thomasine
examined the chain-guard, and said it seemed like an excellent brake. He
had begun to hope that he might dispose of four wheels instead of one,
so enthusiastic were his customers becoming.

So it might have gone on for some time longer, and there is no knowing
what might have transpired, had not Paul Hoyt, greatly to Teddy's
relief, appeared in the doorway. He had heard rumors of the intended
purchase, and he had at once mounted his own wheel and ridden in search
of his neighbors, knowing that it would be an entertaining sight, to say
the least, and thinking that he might find an opportunity for giving his
opinion and lending the weight of his experience.

The Misses Middleton paid more attention to him than they did to
Theodora, and at last a wheel was chosen and paid for, and the three
ladies, with their niece, left the shop.

They drove away still full of their subject, and when the new bicycle
came home it was brought directly to them. The three Misses Middleton
who had made the purchase explained to the two who were still in
ignorance of its merits the great advantages which this bi-cy-cle
possessed over every other make of machine, while Teddy looked on,
wondering when the happy moment would arrive that she could take the
beloved object and go forth for a ride upon her own, own wheel. Indeed
she could scarcely express her gratitude to her aunts, so engrossed were
they in all the technicalities of the subject.

About ten days after this, Mrs. Hoyt, accompanied by Arthur, called upon
the Misses Middleton. The ladies came down to the drawing-room and
greeted their guests with their usual formal courtesy. There was a
moment's pause after all had seated themselves, and then Mrs. Hoyt began
the conversation.

"I have come," she said, "to speak once more on the subject of the bowl.
Have you found yet any clew to the person who broke it?"

"No," said Miss Middleton, "we have not."

"But we still have our suspicious," interposed Miss Joanna.

"And what are they?"

"We did think that it was either Arthur or Theodora. Now we are
convinced that it was Arthur, and that our niece, from a mistaken
feeling of honor, helped him to hide it. Nothing can change us in this
opinion."

"I have come to tell you," said Mrs. Hoyt, quietly but with great
firmness, "that Mr. Hoyt and I are perfectly convinced that Arthur did
_not_ do it. The evidence is very strong against him, we admit, but he
has always been a truthful boy, and we feel very sure that he is so
still. The child has been made so unhappy by the affair that I felt it
necessary to bring him here, and let him hear me tell you that his
father and I do not think he did it."

She rose to go in the pause that followed this speech. The sisters were
silent until they also had risen, and then Miss Joanna spoke.

"Our opinion is unchanged," said she, "and always will be."

At this moment the parlor door flew open and Theodora ran into the room.

"I have just met the postman," she cried, "and he gave me this letter!
Look at it!" and she held it up for her aunts' inspection.

The envelope was exceedingly soiled, and the stamp was placed upside
down on the lower left-hand corner. It was addressed to "miss tedy
middleton."

"It is from Andy Morse," she continued; "and--oh, Arthur, he tells it
all!" And this was what she read aloud:

     "'miss tedy middleton, dear miss.

     "'i Rite you theese few lines Hopping thay will find you in Good
     helth i want too tell you ive got work ime goin on a Ship i wont
     make mutch yet butt its Better nor nothin and i Hopp ile make more
     soon its all Bekorse you gave me That Monny and sum day ime goin to
     pay it Back.

     "And i want to tell you i broke that bole'" (Teddy paused in the
     reading and looked about upon her audience. Her five aunts sank
     into their chairs, and Miss Melissa vigorously applied her salts,
     while, much to Arthur's amazement, his mother began to cry. Teddy
     continued) "'i was that Mad the day you give me the Black i that i
     ran to your house and the dore was open and i went in and sore the
     bole and i herd of that bole and that hoite Boy was in the parler
     and i skeered him most to deth and i asked him if that was the
     middleton bole and he said yes and i smashed it and made him
     promise not to tell on me and if he did ide kill him i fritened him
     orful bad and i have ever since.

     "'i was going to tell you about it that nite i was thare only you
     Was so good to me i diddent Like to and you sed it Cost so mutch i
     was afraid, butt i remember you sed thay Thort you did it and you
     beleeved me wen i sed i was going to be onnest so thats the Reeson
     ive rote this,

  "yours truly andy morse

     "'thay cant ketch me About the bole bekorse ile be to see wen you
     read this.'"

When Teddy had finished the letter, Miss Joanna settled her spectacles
more firmly upon her aristocratic, aquiline nose. Then she held out her
hand for the paper, which she took and examined with care. It was passed
from one sister to another as they sat in an impressive silence, which
was broken as usual by Miss Joanna.

She rose from her chair, and going to Mrs. Hoyt, she took her by the
hand.

"We beg your pardon, Ellen Hoyt," said she, "and we beg your son's
pardon. He is a truthful boy, after all, as Theodora is a truthful girl.
Is it not so, sisters?"

"It is indeed so," replied they all, as they also rose and gathered
about their guests.

Thus Arthur was at last cleared from suspicion and relieved from the
state of dread and anxiety in which he had lived since the accident, for
Morse had not only threatened him at the time, should he give any
information as to what he had done, but had constantly found means since
then of frightening the boy, which accounted for his nervous condition.

And the Misses Middleton were at last convinced that neither Arthur nor
Theodora had broken the Middleton bowl.

THE END.




A LOYAL TRAITOR.

A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.

BY JAMES BARNES.


CHAPTER XVII.

WHEREIN I BECOME AN OFFICER.

I suppose if I were writing a tale of invention, I could imagine no
stranger happenings than those I have recorded in the last few pages of
this old ledger. But as almost everything has an explanation and can be
sifted down to the why and wherefore, when we keep off the subject of
religion and beliefs, I can make plain in a few words the situation. If
"a ship without a captain is a man without a soul," truly a ship without
a compass is a man without an eye. And that was what was the matter with
the topsail schooner _Yankee_, of New Bedford. Four days before I had
come on board she had had an encounter with an English ship that had
offered resistance. During the course of the action the binnacle of the
_Yankee_ had been shot away, and the compass smashed to flinders. But
the English ship had been taken, and was the _Yankee_'s seventh prize in
a cruise of less than four months. Captain Gorham had manned her and
sent her home. The only compass left on board the _Yankee_ was a
small-boat's needle in a wooden box. But, as Plummer told me, it was all
out of kilter, and as useless to steer by as a twirled sheath-knife. Now
for three days after the last capture there had been such thick weather
that they had not been able to get a sight of the sun, moon, or stars,
and had sailed not by dead-reckoning, as the wind had blown from all
quarters, but by sheer guesswork and the lead.

How it came about that Captain Gorham knew the French cockswain was
simple. Although the Captain was an American born and raised, only a few
years previous to the outbreak of the war he had done a little smuggling
on his own account between Dunquerque and the coast of England. So what
appeared at first to be most mysterious is really simple when we come to
look at it.

But now to tell of what we did. It had been Captain Gorham's intention,
I take it, to run into Dunquerque Harbor, but owing to the
representations of Pierre Burron, who stated that he might never leave
it if we did so, this idea was given up; and keeping the lead going, we
took the wind on our quarter, and made off to the southward, the Captain
promising to put the little Frenchman on board the first vessel hound
for his country, and pay him well for his services.

While we had been coming about, I, to show my willingness, had hauled
lustily on the mainsheet and pitched in with the crew, and as soon as
everything was going well, Plummer and I sat down against the bowsprit
and began to spin our respective yarns. Of course there was much to
tell. Mine is known already, and Plummer's was but the recounting of
the most unusual good luck that had ever attended the career of a
cruiser in any service, I suppose.

It seems that finding the _Young Eagle_ had sailed before he expected
she would be ready, Plummer had delayed a long time before he had found
a berth to suit his fancy, and then he had shipped in the _Yankee_ from
New Bedford. From the day of their sailing they had had fair winds and
good fortune, capturing two English vessels off the American coast,
laden with supplies for the English army in Canada, two more on the high
seas, and three, of all places in the world but almost under the nose of
the British Admiralty, at the entrance to their own private Channel. In
all these encounters they had lost but two men killed and three slightly
wounded.

The manning of so many prizes had reduced the crew of one hundred and
twenty men to twenty-six all told. Being a fore-and-aft vessel, this was
more than sufficient to run her properly, and, although it was
considered foolhardiness in the forecastle, old Smiley, or Smiler, as
they called Gorham, had determined to make one more attempt before he
started for the States. Besides, the necessity of speaking some vessel
and securing a compass had now become imperative.

"Tell me something of your skipper, Plummer," I asked. "He is of a
certainty the strangest-looking man I ever met."

"Well, if you want to know the truth," Plummer answered, in a whisper,
"he's as mad as the King of Bedlam--that is, to my thinking. In fact, on
shore they say he is in league with the devil. But whether it is the
devil or the powers above, he certainly carries a fair pinch of good
luck 'twixt his thumb and his forefinger. You haven't heard him sing
yet. Wait till you hear him at that. It will make the flesh crawl on
your back, my lad. But, mark ye, he's a good seaman, for all of his
vagaries. And he can man-handle any two of us."

The only other officer capable of navigation left on board the schooner
was the third Lieutenant, Mr. Carter, who had been one of the slightly
wounded, and who yet carried his right arm in a sling. As Plummer and I
were talking, the Lieutenant came on deck, and ordered us to shake out
the reef in the mainsail that we had taken in some time back, and set
the topsail and flying jib.

The weather was clearing up and the wind going down at the same time.
The sun now broke through the clouds, and by noon it was fine, clear
weather. To the eastward we could see the low-lying shores of France,
while to the westward the white cliffs of England shone plain to sight.
A number of sail could be seen skirting the English coast, but nothing
in the way of shipping could we make out on the other hand. But after we
had altered our course slightly to the eastward, at three o'clock in the
afternoon we made out a brown sail hugging the east shore, and evidently
endeavoring to make the entrance to a small port not far from the mouth
of a little bay. We could see the houses and steeples plainly.

It was evidently our intention to head off this little brown sail, and
soon we saw that in this we should be successful, as the latter turned
about, and started to run for it; but a point of land made her take
quite an offing, and in two hours we were almost within hailing
distance.

One of the 18-pound carronades was loaded, and a shot fired across the
little vessel's bow. Down came the brown sail, and she lay there
swinging and dipping like a wild fowl too frightened to escape. I have
seen some clumsy craft in my day, but I think these vessels are the
strangest-looking. She was a French lugger, only half decked over, with
a great leeboard swung alongside, and had a comformation somewhat like
the shape of the boat which boys whittle out with their jack-knives.
There were five men in her, who appeared scared out of their wits, but
their relief was great when Captain Gorham hailed them in French.

They had no compass, but agreed to set our pilot on shore, and he left
us, grinning and delighted. Now we cleared away again, and left the
Strait of Dover behind us, steering a course somewhat to the eastward of
the middle of the English Channel.

I noticed that the armament of the _Yankee_ was very similar to that of
the _Young Eagle_, except she carried one less gun on a side.

In the evening, as I was talking to some of the crew below, a cabin-boy
came into the forecastle in search of me, with an order for me to repair
aft at once--the Captain wished me. I was thinking of exchanging my
citizen's clothes for some that Plummer had offered me, but I had not
done so when the message was given me, so I hastened up. Captain Gorham
was pacing up and down the little quarter-deck; he halted as he saw me
approaching.

"You will dine with me this evening, Mr. Hurdiss," he said. "And if my
nose does not deceive me, dinner is on the table."

I bowed and thanked him, and we went down into the little cabin. Mr.
Carter was on deck, and the Captain and I sat down _vis-à-vis_. No
sooner had he seated himself than he began to hum, or chant better, only
without using words, beneath his breath. This he kept up even while he
was feeding himself. As I was very hungry, I did not interrupt the
music, and so for full five minutes not a word was said. At last Gorham
pushed back a little ways from the table, and sang a few words to the
same air he had been humming.

"And-now,-Mr.-Hurdiss, spin-us-your-yarn," he chanted.

So I began at once with the cruise of the _Young Eagle_ and the fight
with the frigate, for I did not consider it necessary to tell of my
earlier life. It was the second time that I had told the story this day,
and I probably hastened it. When I came to the more exciting parts,
dealing with my prison life and escape, Captain Gorham hummed a little
bit louder, and this continuous accompaniment urged me to speak faster,
so I covered ground in great fashion. He played an obligato to my solo,
as it were piano, fortissimo, and all of it. When I had finished he
arose and hushed his noise, as if he had been forced to bite the end off
the tune against his will.

"Mr. Hurdiss," he said, "we need some one here aft with us, and there's
a berth for you. Take it. I shall tell the men to obey your orders, as
you will obey mine. You will act as third Lieutenant, sir."

Then, as if this settled matters, he began to hum again, and went up the
ladder to the deck, leaving me sitting there in amazement. Here was
another false position! How fate had forced such situations upon me! It
seemed a long time ago that I was supposed to be a French nobleman (mark
you, I was one), and I could scarce bring myself to believe that my
rescue had happened only the very morning of this day. "Now," said I to
myself, "if I refuse to accept this honor thrust upon me, I may do the
very worst thing for myself that may happen." It behooved me to balance
matters carefully, to weigh and measure possible results.

I knew enough to give the orders under ordinary circumstances for the
making and taking in of sail. I could, at a pinch, have stood my trick
at the wheel. I could use enough sea terms to lead one to suppose that I
knew more, but I knew none of the methods used in determining a ship's
position at sea. I had no inkling of how to prick a course on the chart,
and what a navigator did when he squinted at the sun through a sextant I
could not imagine; but yet, I reasoned, the Captain and Mr. Carter would
probably do all of that that was necessary. I could get on with the men,
I felt sure, and why not undertake it? Thus I convinced myself that I
could become a Lieutenant. I had learned to box the compass while in
prison; and thinking of this accomplishment made me smile, for surely we
would have given something to have possessed one to box.

The good ten-knot breeze held in the same direction all night long. I
took the midnight watch, and felt quite proud of myself as the men moved
to obey my orders to ease off the sheets when I thought occasion
demanded it.

Plummer appeared quite pleased at my promotion, and the other men had
not appeared to take any dislike to their new officer; so I became quite
tickled with the idea of my importance, and stopped my misgivings.

The next day was Sunday. I think I detected that Captain Gorham hummed
psalm tunes during breakfast. Surely it was Old Hundred that he was
repeating when I joined him on deck in the afternoon.

But it was no Sunday breeze, and we skipped along lively. In my opinion
the _Yankee_ would have been no match for the _Young Eagle_ in sailing,
but she would have shown a clean pair of heels to almost any English or
French cruiser.

During the day we had passed within some miles of a number of vessels,
but they had paid no attention to us, and it was not until half past
five that we had anything that approached an interesting situation. We
were somewhere off the island of Alderney, for the Captain knew his
position to a nicety, and was steering a little to the north, "to give
the Casquet Rocks a wide berth," he told me, when we made out a vessel
bearing down to meet us, and carrying the wind so that if we kept on as
we were we would pass near to her.

In an hour it could be seen that she was a frigate, but Captain Gorham
held the same course undisturbed.

It reminded me a little of my voyage in the _Minetta_ to note the
anxiety among the crew. The vessel was to windward, and had evidently
been reconnoitring the French coast; but she did not show any suspicion,
and we approached one another as peaceably as were we two friendly
merchantmen. All at once the frigate tossed out her flag, and up went
ours in answer.

Needless to say ours was the same as hers--the cross of St. George.

Mr. Carter had brought up from the cabin a canvas bag and a book, the
edges of which were weighted with lead. "There she goes, sir," he said,
turning to the Captain; and as he spoke a little line of streamers crept
up the Britisher's mast-head. The Captain, humming carelessly, opened
the book.

"Give them four, one, nine, three, seven, Mr. Carter," he said, in a
singsong.

Five little flags that the Lieutenant had picked out rose on our color
halyards. To this day I do not know what they meant, but it was
apparently satisfactory to the frigate, for she took in her signals, and
we did likewise. Plummer gave me a wink as he gathered the colors in as
they fluttered to the deck.

"We caught these aboard the last prize," he said, "and just saved the
book from going overboard. There's luck for you!"

I noticed that Captain Gorham's eyes were dancing as we passed by the
frigate, about a quarter of a mile astern of her, but I was totally
unprepared for what he did, and stood aghast at his orders.

"Stand by to cast loose and provide the long twelve!" he shrieked in his
high voice.

Mr. Carter made as if to offer some remonstrance; but the men, grinning,
jumped to obey. We had the windward place now, and every advantage,
besides it would soon be dusk.

"Teedle, dee, dumpty, di-do," sang Captain Gorham as he sighted the long
gun himself.

As soon as he had trained it to his satisfaction there was a roar, and
we all bent forward to watch the shot. I gave a squeal of delight as I
saw the frigate's mizzen-topsail yard break square in two and, with the
sail, slam over against the stays. The Captain of that vessel must have
been a most surprised individual. He yawed about and succeeded in
getting taken all aback and generally mixed up.

"Show our colors!" cried Gorham, and I dare say the sight of them
surprised the Englishman still more. It was full five minutes, however,
before he got upon our track or fired a gun. Then two of his shot went
over us, and the rest fell short; but as we sailed three points closer
in the wind almost, and legged two feet for his one, he gave up after
half an hour's sailing; and I wonder if he made a report of all this to
their lordships!

A pitch-dark night came on. I went on watch at ten o'clock, and did a
great deal of thinking while I paced the deck; but my wandering thoughts
were soon called back. At eleven the lookout reported to me that he
thought there was land dead ahead, as he could make out lights.

I ran forward, and sure enough I could see flashes here and there, and
two or three steady points of light off our weather beam. I jumped below
and called the Captain.

"Have you held the same course?" he asked.

"I think so, sir, unless the wind has changed."

"Oh, confound it, we must get a compass!" Gorham grumbled, as he ran up
the ladder ahead of me.

He ascended a short ways into the weather shrouds.

"That's no shore," he cried to Mr. Carter, who had come on deck
barefooted. "That's a big fleet bound out for the Indies--that's what it
is. By Jupiter, we'll stop and get a compass! Port your helm!" he roared
to the man at the wheel, and the booms swung out as we got before the
wind.

We bore straight down upon the lights, that had now increased in number
and vividness. We slackened our speed by taking in our topsails one
after another, and hauling all sheets well aft. By one o'clock we were
almost within speaking distance of the two rearmost ships, whose lights
we could make out very plainly. As we displayed none of our own, we were
probably invisible, owing to the blackness of the night. The crew had
all been called on deck, and the carronades and the midship guns were
loaded. And we came closer and closer, until it was only a question of
time when a lookout should discern our presence.

"Get out the whale-boat, Mr. Carter," said Gorham, quietly, (he had been
squinting through a night-glass). "The nearest vessel is a merchant
brig! Now, Mr. Hurdiss," he added, turning to me and dropping his
singsong for a moment, "see what you're made of. Take the carpenter and
nine men, and board that brig. They're all asleep on her. Do it quietly,
and fire no shot unless you have to. Here, take this cutlass--a slit
throat stops a shout."

Almost before I knew it the whale-boat was ready, the men sitting on the
thwarts with their cutlasses and pistols in their belts, and we had
shoved off. I confess that I was trembling so from excitement that my
breath came in short gasps, and I could not swallow for the life of me.
The carpenter was sitting close to me on the gun-wale.

"Old Smiler is going to see what that other chap is made of," he said,
pointing to the faint glimmer a half a mile or so down the wind.

The last instructions I had received on leaving the _Yankee_ were, if I
took the vessel successfully, to douse all lights, make off to the
eastward for an hour, and then crack on all sail, holding a course
southwest-by-west. That would carry me, as I was told, clear of Lizard
Head and out into the Atlantic, where Gorham would try to pick me up.
The men, of their own accord, were taking quick short strokes, with no
noise in the row-locks. And in a few minutes we were under the stern of
the vessel, that I made out to be a brig, as Gorham said.

The breeze was much lighter than it had been, and we swung under the
stern and backed up to her, the better to run away if necessary, and
took in our oars quietly without any danger of capsizing. The man in the
stern caught the chains that run down to the rudder, and whispered back,
"All's well!"

I stood up, and straining my eyes, saw that within reach of a man's hand
overhead was a row of four cabin windows; the middle one was open.

[Illustration: I CAUGHT THE COMBING OF THE WINDOW AND WORMED MYSELF
INSIDE.]

Thinking that it befitted my position best to be the first on board, I
got to my feet, and then by standing on the shoulders of the two men on
the afterthwart, I caught the combing of the window and wormed myself
inside. I could see that I was in a fair-sized cabin, that a dim light
came from a lantern hanging in a passageway forward; but my heart almost
stood still after a tremendous thump against my ribs.

Not more than an arm's-length from me, I heard the sound of heavy
breathing! I had unshipped my cutlass to make my entrance more easy, and
now I drew the pistol from my belt and stood there, peering to one side,
with every muscle stiff as a harp-string. The deep breathing went on
without an interruption.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




THE USE OF TORPEDOES IN WAR.

HOW THEY ARE MADE, AND WHAT THEY DO.

BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.


The most dreaded implement of war in these days is the torpedo. One of
these darting fishes of death, costing a little more than $3000, can
almost instantly send the most powerful battle-ship, costing as much as
$5,000,000, to the bottom of the sea. This shark of war has a
destructive charge of guncotton in its nose. When it strikes the
war-ship it destroys itself and the ship also. No ship has ever been
built stout enough to withstand an attack by one of these artificial
monsters of the sea. They are made to leap from the side of a vessel
into the water, and after they are once released they go with the speed
of an express train to the place where they are aimed to go. They propel
themselves through the water, and they keep exactly at a depth which is
fixed before they are fired. Nowadays they dive from the ship into the
water. It is probable that soon they will be sent into the water below
the surface and out of sight of the enemy. Then no captain of a ship in
battle will know when to expect an attack by a torpedo, and perhaps when
he fancies that he has beaten his enemy, and has the other ship at his
mercy, a torpedo may be darting at him, unseen and unerring in its
track, that will send him and his ship to the bottom before any one on
board can save himself.

[Illustration: A CONTROLLABLE TORPEDO IN ACTION.]

Torpedoes are of two general kinds. One is the automobile type and the
other is the controllable type. The first goes its own way, that is,
controls itself. The second may be steered or controlled from the place
of its discharge. This country and most other countries use the
automobile torpedoes, and we have two kinds of them. One is the
Whitehead torpedo, and the other is the Howell. The Whitehead is
practically a submarine boat, intended to destroy itself and anything
else it hits after a limited run under the water. It has its own engine
for propulsion, and uses compressed air as the motive power. The Howell
is also intended to cause as much destruction as the Whitehead, and is
also a submarine vessel. It is propelled by the rotation of a
centrifugal wheel, which has been turned by machinery up to about 10,000
revolutions. As this wheel unwinds itself, so to speak, it sets the
machinery of the torpedo in motion, and it goes on its errand of
destruction. The Whitehead is a foreign invention, and the Howell is the
invention of one of our own naval officers. This government has favored
the Whitehead for the equipment of most of the ships of the navy, and
for the purposes of this article we may take that as a type.

These torpedoes require as much delicacy in their manufacture as a
watch. They are boats, and must be fashioned in their outlines so as to
glide through the water without the slightest deviation. Any inequality
of shape would send a torpedo flying off in some other direction than
that in which it was intended it should go. Inside, the complex
machinery must act as accurately as the machinery of a watch, or the
torpedo will fail of its purpose. It would be tiresome to go into the
full details of the machinery of a torpedo, and, besides, it is
practically a government secret; but we may tell about the general
features of these engines of war.

[Illustration: A WHITEHEAD TORPEDO.]

The Whitehead torpedo consists of several well-defined parts. The first
is the head, where the guncotton is placed for explosion. This part is
what is called "ogival" in shape, and is bluntly rounded. Then comes
quite a long straight part. That is the chamber for the compressed air.
Then there is what is called a buoyancy chamber, in which is placed the
diving apparatus. Then follows the engine-room, to which the water is
admitted through little slits in the torpedo. Then comes another
buoyancy chamber, in which the important parts of the steering apparatus
are placed, and then comes the tail with its two screws and rudders and
fins.

The war-heads of the torpedoes of the largest size contain 220 pounds of
guncotton. Most of this guncotton is kept in a damp condition. The rest
is dry. The dry guncotton is exploded by a small charge of fulminate of
mercury, and that in turn explodes the wet guncotton. About the only
thing that will explode wet guncotton is dry guncotton. The war-heads of
the torpedoes are so arranged that until they travel at least eighty
yards from a ship the firing apparatus is locked. This saves the ship
from being destroyed by its own weapon in case of accident. When the
nose of the war-head strikes an object, it pushes a pin through a copper
partition into the fulminate of mercury, and the explosion follows.

The torpedo's air-chamber consists of forged steel about an inch thick.
It must be very strong, for it must be charged with compressed air to a
pressure of 1350 pounds to the square inch. Expensive machinery is used
in finishing off this part of the torpedo. The lathes, that work on the
inside can produce steel shavings of the thickness of a thousandth of an
inch. The long after-part of the torpedo is made of thin steel, but
strongly braced so that the machinery can do its work.

We probably can best understand how these little ships are made by
studying what they do. Suppose the battle-ship _Kentucky_ wants to sink
an antagonist in war. The air-compressor is set at work. A large-size
torpedo is swung on a rack and lowered to a tube in the side of the
ship, and slid in place. A valve is attached to an opening in the
torpedo, and the air is compressed into the air-chamber. By means of a
measuring device the observer has fixed the exact time and direction
when to discharge the torpedo so as to hit the enemy. Four ounces of
powder have been inserted in the torpedo-tube back of the torpedo, and
the word to fire is given.

By a simple arrangement the air-valves are closed, the machinery in the
torpedo unlocked so that after it strikes the water the air will flow
into the engine and start the screws going. The gauges and springs have
also been so arranged that the torpedo will remain at a fixed depth.
With a speed of about a mile in two minutes the 16-foot torpedo rushes
through the water. If it strikes the enemy, a great naval catastrophe
happens. If it misses, it is so arranged as to sink after it has spent
its force, and to disappear out of the way of doing harm to shipping. If
practice work is being done with the torpedo at any time, the mechanism
is so arranged beforehand that when the torpedo has run its course it
rises to the surface and is recovered.

How does a torpedo keep at a certain distance under water? Well, there
are two bits of machinery to accomplish that. One is a pendulum. If the
nose of the torpedo raises itself, the pendulum swings backward and
depresses the rudders at the stern, and brings down the nose. If the
torpedo begins to dive, the pendulum moves forward, and the opposite
result follows. The torpedo remains at the required depth through the
pressure of the water that comes into the engine-room on a rubber
diaphragm, to which is attached a delicate spring. The pressure of the
water and the strength of the spring offset each other when the torpedo
is at the depth wanted. If the torpedo sinks or rises, the harmony
between the spring and the pressure of water is disturbed and the
steering-engine is affected, and the rudders moved so as to keep the
weapon at a certain depth. Slight changes up or down are regulated by
this machinery; but if the plunge or rise is of a serious nature, the
pendulum begins to swing, and the torpedo corrects its course at once.

Another most delicate part of the torpedo's machinery is what is called
a "valve group." This is a set of valves used for various purposes, the
chief of which is to restrain violent action from the compressed air
during changes in direction of the little craft or during its run. They
have such names as the "controlling valve," the "reducing valve," the
"regulating valve." The flow of air into the little three-cylinder
engine must be constant and of a certain pressure. The screws at the
stern of the boat must be turned at the rate of about one thousand
revolutions a minute, and the control of the force that propels them
must be most efficient.

Another piece of important machinery is known as the "locking gear."
When a torpedo is shot into the water from a ship the pendulum may lag a
little in its swing forward. This would put the rudder down and make the
torpedo take a deep dive. In shallow water this might mean contact with
the bottom, and of course that would never do. The locking gear prevents
any action by the rudder until the torpedo has travelled about a hundred
yards. By that time the craft has settled to its work, and has ceased to
make any skipping motions in the water. Thus we see that the torpedo is
not ready for full duty until it has gone a considerable distance from
the ship. It cannot explode nor steer itself until it is darting through
the water under its own power at a certain depth and at a certain speed.
If it does the work expected of it, it will strike its target in
probably less than one minute. It therefore does appalling destruction
in almost an instant.

[Illustration: TORPEDO AND LAUNCHING TUBE.]

The reason that there are two screws at the stern is to make sure of
propelling the torpedo in a straight line. One screw turns to the right,
and one to the left. The tendency to go to the right or left which would
occur if there were only one screw is thus equalized. The fin part of
the tail also serves to keep the torpedo on a straight course. There is
a great deal of variety in the machinery which is crowded into one of
these torpedoes, but with that we need not concern ourselves. There is
almost as much delicate machinery necessary to place the torpedoes in
the water as to keep them going after they get into the water. The
launching tube and air-compressors look like simple affairs, but in
reality they have to be adjusted most delicately and most carefully to
the torpedoes.

Great care is bestowed not only on this machinery on shipboard, but also
on the torpedoes. The torpedoes are smothered with grease, and every
precaution is taken to prevent rust from accumulating in any spot
outside or inside. Every torpedo is tested most thoroughly before it is
accepted by the government, and a careful record is kept of the
performance of each in practice on the ship to which it is sent.

No one knows the full power of one of these missiles. In recent times
two large war-ships, the _Aquidaban_ in the Brazilian civil war, and the
_Blanco Encalada_ in the Peruvian-Chilian war, were sunk by torpedoes.
Several smaller craft were sent to the bottom in the war between China
and Japan. When we think of their power of destruction, and the extreme
care and skill required to make them, it seems wonderful that such
implements of war can be made for about $3200 each. That is the sum
which the government pays for each of the 16-foot torpedoes. For those
that are 11 feet 8 inches long the cost is, in round numbers, $2500
each.




TUMBLE-BUGS.

BY CHARLES G. MORTON.


Everybody has seen tumble-bugs rolling their dust-covered balls along
some path or highway in the country, but few people are aware that these
little insects are the lineal descendants, so to speak, of a deity--the
sacred scarabæus of the Egyptians, of which we have read so much. The
little fellows, in seeming indifference to their fall from high estate,
are still rolling their balls as industriously as they did on the banks
of the Nile in Moses's time.

The coleoptera, or beetles, form the highest division of insects. They
all have six legs, and a distinctly marked head, thorax, and abdomen.
The body is covered with a horny envelope, which takes the place of the
skeleton in higher creatures, protecting and holding the organs in
place. The beetle has also four wings, one pair over the other. The
lower ones are of a parchmentlike substance, while the upper ones are
horny.

Beetles are of various kinds, some of which are useful to man, and
others harmful. Scavenger-beetles belong to the former class, and no one
variety is more interesting than the pellet-beetle or tumble-bug.

This little fellow, of one species or another, is found all over the
United States, in Europe, and in northern Africa. With us he is from
half to three-quarters of an inch in length, and coal-black.

The most remarkable thing about tumble-bugs, and one which excites the
curiosity of every one who observes them, is the manner in which the egg
is developed into the perfect insect. This egg is laid in manure, which
is mixed with a little clay, and then rolled into a ball about the size
of a marble, and left to dry. For the work that is to follow, the
powerful legs and jaws of the insect are well adapted. No better proof
of its strength may be obtained than by putting one or two bugs under a
candlestick on a table, and noticing the ease with which they move it
along.

When the ball is dry, the bugs, usually two in number, commence rolling
it to a suitable place of deposit, which is not, apparently, selected in
advance. Whether these two bugs are the parents or not is unknown, but
at any rate one places himself in the front, with his hind feet on the
ground and the others on the ball, while the other goes in the rear,
with his body reversed--that is, his four front legs are planted firmly
on the ground, with his head bent low in the dust, while his hinder
parts are raised high on the ball, which he pushes with the two
remaining legs and the extremity of the body.

The duty of the bug in front seems to be either to guide the ball or to
pull it forward, possibly both. Although he has the most natural
position, and seems to have less to do than the other bug, he really has
the harder time, for when the ball gets rolling down a slope it
frequently goes over him entirely, or pushes him sprawling by the
way-side. But he is soon on his feet again, and scrambling into place,
makes believe he is having the jolliest time in the world.

If obstructions occur in the path, the tumble-bug is not easily
discouraged. You may frighten him away, or even push him aside with your
stick, but if you keep quiet for a few moments he will return to his
work. If a tuft of grass or a stone intervene, he leaves his work and
goes in search of help, and his comrades rarely fail to respond. If,
however, after repeated efforts to move it, the bugs leave their ball in
despair, it often happens that a new party comes across it and rolls it
merrily to its destination. The whole community seem to take an interest
in every ball, and are willing to do their utmost to help it along.

When a suitable place is found, which may be several yards from where
the ball was made, one bug remains with it, while the other excavates a
little hole for its reception. When the hole is about the depth of the
ball, the latter is rolled in, and then both bugs get underneath, and
while they are excavating and pushing the dirt one side, the ball
gradually follows them downward, sinking by its own weight. This hole is
sometimes two or three feet deep.

When the egg hatches, the larva, or grub, lives upon the contents of the
ball until the supply of food is exhausted, when it makes its way to the
surface of the ground, and there, by some unknown process, forms and
places itself inside a cocoon of oval shape, and of similar composition
to the ball in which it was hatched. There it silently changes into a
chrysalis, and emerges a perfect insect.

Besides the little tumble-bugs that we most commonly see, there is a
larger species, found in this country and in England, called the clock
or door beetle, and which is alluded to by Shakespeare where Macbeth
says:

              "Ere to black Hecate's summons
  The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,
  Hath rung night's yawning peal."

Shard was the old English name of the horny outer wing of the beetle.

Another old English writer quaintly commends the tumble-bug as an
example of labor, temperance, prudence, justice, modesty, and
contentment. It is difficult to see how he arrived at the idea of making
the tumble-bug the symbol of justice; perhaps he thought a bug having so
many other virtues would have that one of necessity.

A species of tumble-bug was also sacred to Thor in the old days when
that god was worshipped in Gothland, or Scandinavia. When the Christian
missionaries came into the land they changed the name of the bug from
"Thor's bug" to "Thor-devil," in order to turn the minds of the people
from its worship. The latter name still survives in Sweden, but many a
peasant, with the blood of his superstitious ancestors still in his
veins, will even now set the tumble-bug on his feet when he sees him
sprawling on his back, and congratulate himself that he has brought luck
to his undertakings.

The sacred beetle of the Egyptians was considered to symbolize the sun,
the world or habitable globe, and the goddess Neith. Many explanations
are offered to account for the origin of this belief, but the most
plausible are the following: The beetle represented the sun because its
antennæ, or feelers, diverge from the head like the rays of the sun.
Then, again, its six legs have five joints each--thirty in all--equal to
the number of days in a month or in a sign of the zodiac. The beetle
represented the world because it rolled balls or little orbs. These
balls were fabled to be rolled from sunrise till sunset, and always in
the same direction as the earth.

The goddess Neith was the supreme power in governing the works of
creation. The warrior, in going forth to battle, would have the sacred
beetle carved or painted on ring or bracelet, to propitiate the goddess
and make him victorious. The explanation offered is that as the male and
female were so hard to distinguish, they were all thought to be males,
and therefore of great courage.

Plutarch tells us that the Romans adopted the beetle as a sign of
victory, and had it represented on the standards of their legions.




THE ACCOMMODATING ISLAND.

ONE OF THE OLD SAILOR'S YARNS.

BY W. J. HENDERSON.


It was a southeasterly morning before a rainy day. The world was a
palette of low-toned grays, greens, and purples, with here and there a
bright flash of golden-yellow where the sun's rays fell through a rift
in the shifting clouds and touched the young grass. The sea was a
greenish-gray, patterned with dark wrinkles and white scars of foam.
There was yet no swell, for only a fresh breeze was blowing, and the sea
had not made up. The sky was a vast tangle of gray and blue-black
clouds, varying in shape from long wisps, through smokelike tufts, down
to the verge of the southerly horizon, where there was a solid sheet of
that hazy blue which marks the presence of rain. The clam fleet was
galloping homeward with lifted sheets and bellying jibs. The fishermen
were holding on till the last minute, with their light anchors down in
six fathoms of water, and their green sea-skiffs dancing on the young
windrows of salt spume. A Nova Scotia bark, apple-bowed, wall-sided, and
square-sterned, was going out in tow of a squat and puffy tug. The bark
had all her three-cornered staysails set, and two or three hands were
aloft loosing the topsails, after the manner of men to whom a month more
or less on a voyage is not to be considered.

The Old Sailor sat on the end of the pier and gazed at the bark. Ever
and anon he bowed his head and shook with one of his hearty fits of
silent laughter. Henry and George were standing on the shore opposite
the pier, and they were certain that the bark had reminded their old
friend of something interesting. So they walked out on the pier and sat
down beside him.

"Here we are," said Henry.

"Yes, here we are," added George.

"W'ich the same bein' here," said the Old Sailor, gravely, "it are
necessitous fur me to recommember somethin'." He paused for a moment,
gazed at the bark, and said: "W'ich way are the wind?"

"Southeast," replied George.

"About south-s'utheast," said Henry.

"Werry good; werry good indeed," declared the Old Sailor, emphatically.
"My son, w'en you grow up to be a man, w'ich the same you are a-doin' of
at the rate o' twelve knots an hour, you'll be almost a good enough
sailor fur to sail a cat-boat, w'ich I've knowed ossifers in the navy as
couldn't do 't."

Again the Old Sailor paused and looked at the bark, and Henry was moved
to say,

"Does she remind you of anything?"

"She do," answered the Old Sailor. "She reminds me o' the four-masted
iron bark _Lily o' the Walley_, 'cos she don't look nothin' like her an'
won't go half as fast. _Lily o' the Walley_ were the name wot were
painted acrost her starn in yaller letters, but she warn't generally
called that. Her skipper were a werry respectable old seafarin' gent
named Tom Crawley, an' seein' as how he were part owner o' the wessel,
an' allus lived aboard o' her, even w'en she were in dry dock, she were
knowed as the _Uncle Tom's Cabin_. Howsumever, she 'ain't got nothin'
werry partickler fur to do with this 'ere yarn wot I'm a-tellin' ye. It
are enough fur me to tell ye that I shipped aboard o' her as second mate
fur the v'yage from Liverpool to Melbourne. We carried a werry
miscellaneous cargo o' spellin'-books, sas'prilla, and cricket bats, all
bein' intended fur to keep up a proper patriotic feelin' in England's
distant colony.

"Waal," continued the Old Sailor, after a sweeping glance around the
horizon, "the _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ perceeded werry respectably on her
way, an' Cap'n Tom Crawley sez he to me, sez he, one day, 'We're a-goin'
fur to make a werry fast passidge to Melbourne.' W'ich the same I didn't
say nothin', 'cos w'y, havin' bin to sea so long, I knowed ye never was
in port till ye got your anchor down. Long Bill Smock, the fust mate, he
were fur crackin' on sail all the time, an' byme-by the masts o' the
ship were all buckled an' bent like a ole woman wot are spent her life
over a wash-tub. Howsumever, that 'ain't got nothin' to do with this
here yarn wot I'm a tellin' ye.

"One night, w'en we was sommers about half-way atwixt the Gold Coast an'
Patagonia, it piped up from the south'ard an' east'ard, an' afore
mornin' it were a-blowin' a hull gale. We shortened sail till we was
hove to under a close-reefed main-torps'l, a bit o' spanker, an' a
storm-jib. But, bless ye, it didn't do no good. The _Uncle Tom's Cabin_
wallered in the sea like a hippopotamus in a menagerie tank, an' ye
could hear the cricket bats in the hold knockin' the heads right off the
bottles o' sas'prilla. The seas run so high that one time w'en the bark
pitched bows under she stood right up straight on her head like she were
a circus actor. Willum Wiley, wot were at the wheel, lost his grip, an'
fell caplump down past all three o' the masts, slap over the
knight-heads, an' into the water. But that werry same sea came aboard o'
her, an' as she riz again, h'istin' her bow an' lowerin' her starn,
Willum went floatin' along the deck down the other way, till he got back
to the place where he started from, grabbed the wheel, an' went right on
a-steerin', as ef nothin' had ever happened to him.

"Waal, about four o'clock the next arternoon," continued the Old Sailor,
"the carpenter comes an' reports eight inches o' water in the hold, an'
hands was ordered fur to man the pumps. We pumped her out, but the water
come in again, an' this time it commenced fur to gain on the pumps. 'It
aren't no use,' sez Long Bill Smock, sez he; 'her seams is all
a-openin', an' we're jess tryin' to pump the South Atlantic back into
itself.' The Cap'n he allowed that we'd got to drown, 'cos w'y all the
boats was stove in, except the dingy, an' that wouldn't 'a' lived two
minutes in sech a sea. So there we was a-goin' to the bottom sure, an'
the nearest land 700 miles away, unless ye call the bottom land, an'
that were 1700 fathom down.

[Illustration: HIRAM DUCK SAT ON THE FORETORPS'L-YARD AND WEPT.]

"Waal, the blessed old barky were a-settlin' lower an' lower in the
water every minute. Old Hiram Duck, the ship's carpenter, he climbed up
to the foretorps'l-yard, an' set there with his legs hangin' over, while
he wiped his eyes with a piece o' oakum, an' sang, werry solemn like:

  "'Oh, fare ye well, my Mary Ann;
    You'll nevermore see me;
  I'm goin' fur to wed a mermaid
    At the bottom o' the sea.'

"Long Bill Smock he were a-jumpin' up an' down in the waist o' the
wessel, a-ringin' o' his hands an' sayin': 'Oh dear! oh dear! I'm sure
the water's awful cold, an' I've got rheumatism now.' The Cap'n he
didn't say a word, but jess kep' a-lookin' at the compass an'
a-scratchin' his head. As fur me, I were the wust fool o' the hull lot,
fur I yelled fur all hands to take to the riggin'. An' blow me fur
pickles ef they didn't up an' do it. An' that are wot saved 'em, arter
all. The _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ went down an' down till the next sea rolled
clean over her deck, an' ef them fellers hadn't been aloft, it 'd 'a'
washed 'em all overboard. But jest then we heerd a tremenjis rumblin'
an' roarin' under the sea, like there was a thunder-storm on the bottom,
an' the _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ stopped sinkin'."

The Old Sailor paused a moment to let the full meaning of this startling
statement sink into the minds of his young hearers. He swept the horizon
with his glance, and then continued:

"An' wot are more, she beginned fur to come up. There were somethin'
under her a-shovin' her up. We could feel her shake an' tremble an'
bump.

"'Sacred name of a poodle!' hollered Jean Bart, a French sailor, 'it are
a whale!'

"Whale not'in'!' yells Jim Hall, a gentleman from the Bowery; 'she's
struck a rock!'

"W'ich the same it were putty near true. 'Cos w'y, a rock had struck
her. The bottom o' the sea had riz right up under her, an' pushed her
right out o' the water. An' there she were, restin' comfortable atween
two rocks, with a island about half a mile wide all around her, an' a
ferogious surf a-breakin' onto it.

"'Breakers ahead! Breakers astarn! Geewollikins! Breakers all around!'
yells Hiram Duck, from the foretorps'l-yard.

"'Lay down out o' that, ye lubber!' sez the Cap'n, sez he; 'don't ye see
we're in dry dock? Get overboard an' see where the leak is.'

"So Hiram he tumbles down an' gets over the ship's side. An' as soon as
he put his foot on the ground, he sez,

"'Wow; it are hot.'

"Then he looks around him, an' sets up another yaupin'.

"'Cap'n, Cap'n!' he yells, 'there's fish an' crabs an' lobsters all over
the blessed island, an' every mother's son on 'em is cooked.'

"'In course they is,' sez the Cap'n, sez he, jess like he'd knowed all
about it all the time; 'it were a earthquake down under the sea wot
shoved this 'ere island up, an' the heat cooked them fish an' things.
Stan' by to get 'em aboard there, some o' you, an' we'll have fresh fish
an' lobster fur dinner.'

"Then the Cap'n he orders me fur to h'ist the ensign, w'ich the same I
did. An' then the Cap'n sez he: 'I take possession o' this 'ere island
in the name o' the United States o' Ameriky, an' I christens of it
Crawley Island. Everybody give three cheers!'

"An' we give the cheers, an' then stood by fur to h'ist crabs an'
lobsters aboard. Werry good. Hiram Duck he gits over the side, an' found
the leaks easy enough; 'cos w'y, where the water were a-runnin' in when
we was in the sea it were a-runnin' out all right now. Howsumever, it
didn't seem to be no partiklar good fur to calk up the leaks, 'cos we
was hung up on them rocks putty nigh a quarter o' a mile from the water,
an' there weren't no way fur to git the bark afloat. But Cap'n Tom
Crawley he sez, sez he: 'Git the water out o' her and calk up the leaks
fust. Then we'll see ef we can't contrive some contraption fur gittin'
her afloat.' Hiram Duck, bein' ship's carpenter, perposed as how we
should take her masts out o' her, an' make rollers out o' 'em fur to run
her down to the water. But the Cap'n sez he, 'You 'ain't told us how to
h'ist her out from atwixt these 'ere rocks yet.' So Hiram he shet up
like a clam wot'd bin stepped on.

"Waal, we was hung up there onto that island about two weeks, durin'
w'ich time we got all the damidge done by the gale properly repaired.
Havin' done so, the Cap'n he gives us a day off fur rest. About three
o'clock in the arternoon o' that werry same day, all on a suddent we
heered a tremenjis rumblin' an' roarin' under the island.

"'All aboard, quick!' yells the Cap'n.

"We all tumbled aboard the barky, an' none too soon. No sooner'd we done
it than that there bloomin' island jest up an' sank right out from under
the wessel, an' there we was afloat agin tight an' sound, an' with a
fair wind. An' Cap'n Tom Crawley sez he to me, sez he, 'Ef ye was to
live a hundred year that wouldn't happen to ye agin.' An' sez I to he,
sez I, 'Cap'n Tom Crawley, I ain't sure it would ef I was to live 200
year.' An' so we dropped the subjeck."




[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]


[Illustration: Robertson. Kellogg. Parker. Harper.

THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL GOLFERS.]

The golf course at the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, is somewhat more
extended than that at Lawrenceville, described in these columns last
week. A glance at the map on the next page will show that it is also
somewhat more complicated. The first hole, however, is a comparatively
easy one for a good player, although the inexperienced golfer will find
the swamp and the brook somewhat unpleasant obstacles.

The second hole has only one hazard--a brook near the teeing-ground,
which ought to be cleared easily on the drive, since it is on a
considerably lower level. The third hole requires a sure drive on
account of the zigzag wooden fence which runs along almost parallel with
the course on the left, and frequently proves an unpleasant hazard for
the novice. The fourth hole is on the top of a knoll, and a drive that
is either too hard or too short will drop the ball in a bad position.

[Illustration: THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL GOLF COURSE.]

Between the fourth and fifth holes rises a large rock, but this is not
so bad an obstacle as might be supposed, and may be driven over by any
one with a little experience at the game. On the sixth hole there is a
deep ditch or excavation which was made by the removal of some sand, and
the ball that drops into this pit will cause the player to spend a
considerable number of strokes to get it out. The putting green for this
hole is on the top of a rocky mountain, and is very hard of approach,
for when a ball hits a rocky side of the elevation it bounds back to a
good distance.

The seventh hole is an easy one, the only obstacle being a good-sized
mound with a small ditch back of it. The most difficult hole on the
whole course, however, is the eighth. One of the principal dangers is
that of going over the fence to the left, and there is also the chance
of going over the fence which lies to the right, as the hole itself lies
in a small lane between the two, and consequently considerable skill is
necessary to place the ball in the proper position.

The last hole is by no means an easy one, either, inasmuch as there are
a fence at the start, a brook just this side of the green, and a swamp
on the further side. There has been a great deal of interest displayed
in golf at Hotchkiss during the past year, and a large number of the
students have taken up the game with energy. Some good scores have been
made over the course, and doubtless next spring there will be a
tournament to settle the championship of the school.

Athletics seem to be taking a new lease of life in Chicago, and the
high-school sportsmen are developing an unusually clean and healthy
spirit, the greatest evidence of which is their determination to
overcome all the obstacles that lie in their way, and to try to do the
best they can with such advantages as they have. The schoolboys made an
application to the authorities of the University of Chicago for the use
of the college gymnasium, but as this has been refused, a number of the
schools have had to look elsewhere for training quarters.

The Englewood athletes have announced philosophically that they will do
as they did two years ago--that is, they will train out in the street if
they cannot get any other place. This is made necessary because
Englewood has no gymnasium or any room in the school that can be used as
such. Hyde Park High-School has, without exception, the best school
gymnasium in the West, and will therefore probably not feel the
deprivation of being forbidden the university gymnasium so much as will
some of the other schools.

The Hyde Park gymnasium is not by any means large, but it is well
equipped and has an excellent running track. South Division H.-S. will
have to follow Englewood's heroic example by resorting to the public
streets for training quarters, and mighty lively training quarters will
they have, for two of the streets bounding the block on which the school
is located have street railways running through them, and tracks are
about to be laid through the street on which the school-house faces. The
pupils of the school have gotten up a petition, which has been sent to
the High-School Board, begging that a new school-house, more favorably
located, and with greater conveniences (including a gymnasium, of
course) be provided for them.

In regard to the facilities that the high-school boys of Chicago have
for athletics, it is to be noted that a great many students who have
gone out from the South Division H.-S. to other schools have won
distinction on the teams of the latter, whereas the South Division teams
very seldom achieve any success in athletics. The general opinion,
consequently, is that, owing to the lack of facilities and advantages
offered to the students of South Division, the teams which represent
the school are not nearly so good as they might be under other
circumstances.

What prompted the high-schools to petition the authorities of the
university for the use of the gymnasium this year was that last year the
schoolboys were allowed to train there between the hours of two and four
in the afternoon, and a large number of young athletes from Hyde Park,
Englewood, South Division, Chicago Manual, and even from Lake View, took
advantage of the opportunity of working there, and as a result the
athletic teams the next spring were all of an unusually high standard.

The reason given by the University of Chicago for refusing the use of
the gymnasium to the schools this year is that there was too much
crowding on the track by the runners, and that the galleries were kept
too full of spectators. This is a very good reason, of course; but it
would seem, nevertheless, that if the gymnasium was given up to the
schools entirely between the hours of two and four, it could make no
difference to the college men how much the school athletes crowded one
another on the track, nor how many of their fellows congregated in the
galleries to watch them. I can readily understand, however, that if the
gymnasium was not entirely given up to the high-school lads--if the
college men intended to use the track and the floor at the same
time--there would naturally be a good deal of crowding, and the vigorous
methods of the younger athletes would probably prove annoying to those
who considered that the youngsters were intruders.

In a matter of this kind there should be no half-way business--that is,
if the boys are to have the use of the gymnasium, they should have the
unrestricted use of it; and the college men should keep away during
those hours. If, however, the college men honestly believe that there is
not time enough for all the college athletes to train, and at the same
time allow the schoolboys to use the floor for a certain period each
day, they are fully justified in refusing the use of their gymnasium.

It is to be regretted, however, that some kind of an arrangement cannot
be made for the boys, for the college men must remember that by
developing the young athletes they are bringing up material that will
eventually go into the university teams, and prove of the greatest value
and usefulness to them.

The skating-races of the Long Island Association for the championship of
the League have been postponed, and will now not be held until possibly
the first or second week in March. They will be held in the Clermont
Avenue Rink, Brooklyn and the events to be contested are 220-yard dash
and one-mile and three-mile races.

At the Boston A.A. in-door meeting, a week ago Saturday, there was a
number of interscholastic entries, and several of the schoolboys did
good work. There was a 40-yard novice race, in the final heat of which
was H. C. Jones, of Exeter. The final heat was so close that the judges
were unable to decide upon the winner, and it was necessary to run it
off again. On the last attempt Jones won. The time was slow--5 sec. In
the tie heat the time had been 4-4/5 sec.

In the mile run, E. W. Mills of Chauncy Hall School, who ran such a
beautiful mile at the Madison Square in-door games last year, was pitted
against Hjertberg, Orton, and Kilpatrick. The schoolboy started off
quickly, and for four laps he led the field, with Hjertberg a good
second. The latter then hit up the pace, passed Mills, and was never
headed. Kilpatrick passed Mills on the tenth lap, but it was not until
the last lap that Orton managed to get ahead of the Chauncy Hall runner.
The time was 4 min. 36-4/5 sec.

The hurdle race was won by J. J. Peters, of Andover, with E. Cole, of
Hopkinson's, second. There is excellent material among the Boston
schools this year, and the interscholastic games ought to be the
occasion of some record-breaking.

The National Interscholastic Games, which were held at the Columbia Oval
last June, were a success so far as they could be when one considers all
the disadvantages that the managers had to contend against. That was the
first year of the association's existence, and the officers naturally
had a great deal more work to do than they ever will have again, and a
great many questions to decide at short notice without any experience to
assist them toward these decisions. Several of the present officers of
the association were connected with the management of the games last
year, and they consequently know of several things that must be avoided,
and of many others that should be looked after.

It is none too early now to begin to make plans for these games. One of
the difficulties last year was that there was hardly time enough to do
all that should have been done to make the games a striking success.
Another trouble was that so many of the games of the various
interscholastic associations were scheduled for so late a date that the
national games had to be postponed until June 20, in order not to
conflict with the other contests. It seems to me that a good thing to
do this year, and it ought to be done as soon as possible, would be for
the executive committee of the National Association to meet and decide
upon a conditional date for the national games.

The secretaries of all the interscholastic associations of the country,
or of all those that will probably send teams to the national games,
should be informed of this proposed date, and the request should be made
to them that their own games be held at least a week previous to the
national event. It is more than probable that every association would
endeavor, if it were a possible thing, to concede this much to the
National Association, and to hold their local games at a date that would
not conflict with the general event.

In New York the interscholastic games are held early in the month of
May. The Long Island League follows about a week later. But in Boston,
as well as in Philadelphia and in the Maine Association, the spring
games usually come in the first week in June. It is at just about that
time that, it would seem to me, the National Association would wish to
have the big games in New York. These contests, to be successful, should
be scheduled so that they would not interfere with the college
examinations, and also so that they would not come too early in the
season for the contestants.

In order not to interfere with the examinations, they ought not to be
held any later than the first week in June, for the young men who
participate in the games will need two or three weeks at least after the
meeting to devote entirely to their studies. In order to gain the
good-will and obtain the support of the older heads, the managers should
do all they can to arrange matters so that the games will not interfere
with school-work. There is no reason why they should interfere with
school-work if properly managed.

The objection has been made that the national games added one more
occasion to the many that already take up the time of the schoolboy
athletes. This is perhaps true for the present; but I doubt if next year
or thereafter it would be the case, because as soon as the schools
become convinced that the national games are to be the most important of
the year so far as scholastic athletics are concerned, the games of the
several interscholastic associations will take a secondary position, and
the school games of the institutions making up the interscholastic
associations will fall into a third stage of importance, and probably
fall away entirely. In other words, instead of having a series of school
games leading up to the interscholastic games of the several leagues in
various parts of the country, the schoolboy athletes will look upon
their interscholastic meeting as a sort of trial heat for the national
games instead of, as they have heretofore, a final heat to decide the
supremacy of their own association.

The mere fact that at the national games the best athletes of the great
centres will be pitted against one another is sufficient to make that
occasion the most interesting and, beyond any question, the most
important of the year. I do not believe that there should be so many
track-athletic meetings as there have been in the past; I mean that I
think it is a poor plan to have scholastic meetings open to members of
schools belonging to the Interscholastic League, for the result soon
comes to be that each scholastic meeting is practically an
interscholastic event, and this may easily be seen by looking at the
list of entries at these various scholastic games.

The best plan is to have each league hold its meeting, pick the first
two men for a team to represent that league at the national games, and
then let the national games be the decisive contest in track athletics
for the year.

"TRACK ATHLETICS IN DETAIL."--ILLUSTRATED.--8VO, CLOTH, ORNAMENTAL,
$1.25.

  THE GRADUATE.

       *       *       *       *       *

A TRIBUTE.

  Pa says his mother used to make
    The finest pies he ever see,
  But those my dear old mommie makes
    Are plenty good enough for me.

  Indeed, I like 'em all so much,
    It wouldn't fill me with dismay
  If some big tyrant made me eat
    A dozen slices every day.

       *       *       *       *       *

ONE OF LINCOLN'S KIND ACTS.

One summer morning, shortly after the close of the civil war, the not
unusual sight in Washington of an old veteran hobbling along could have
been seen on a shady path that led from the Executive Mansion to the War
Office. The old man was in pain, and the pale sunken cheeks and vague
far-away stare in his eyes betokened a short-lived existence. He halted
a moment, and then slowly approached a tall gentleman who was walking
thoughtfully along. "Good-morning, sir. I'm an old soldier, and would
like to ask your advice."

The gentleman turned, and, smiling kindly, invited the poor old veteran
to a seat under a shady tree. There he listened to the man's story of
how he had fought for the Union, and was severely wounded,
incapacitating him for other work in life, and begged directions how to
apply for back pay due him and a pension, offering his papers for
examination.

The gentleman looked over the papers, and then took out a card and wrote
directions on it, also a few words to the Pension Bureau, desiring that
speedy attention be given to the applicant, and handed it to him.

The old soldier looked at it, and, with tears in his eyes, thanked the
tall gentleman, who, with a sad look, bade him good luck and hurried up
the walk. Slowly the soldier read the card again, and then turned it
over to read the name of the owner. More tears welled in his eyes when
he knew whom he had addressed himself to, and his lips muttered: "I am
glad I fought for him and the country, for he never forgets. God bless
Abraham Lincoln!"




[Illustration: ROYAL BAKING POWDER]

Celebrated for its great leavening strength and healthfulness. Assures
the food against alum and all forms of adulteration common to the cheap
brands.

ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., NEW YORK.




In the next issue, published

Tuesday, February 23, 1897,

HARPER'S

ROUND TABLE

will begin a new serial story, to

be continued for twenty consecutive

weeks, entitled

THE

PAINTED

DESERT

BY

KIRK MUNROE

Author of "Snow-Shoes and

Sledges," "Rick Dale," etc.

_Five Cents a Copy_

_Two Dollars a Year_

       *       *       *       *       *

Address

HARPER & BROTHERS

Publishers, New York




QUESTIONS FOR YOUNG MEN.


ON COURTESY TO WOMEN AND GIRLS.

Somebody once said that you could tell how civilized a nation was at any
one time by learning how that nation treated its women at that
particular period. You go to some of the towns in Europe to-day, and you
find women doing the hard labor, drawing carts beside dogs, carrying
bundles and heavy articles about. Go among savages in Africa, and you
find women doing the hard labor of life, the men reserving for
themselves the hunting, the loafing, and the fighting. As nations grow
more civilized, the women become more the objects of care and
solicitude, and in England and the United States to-day they are treated
with an amount of forethought and attention never known before. And yet
even in America to-day many a young man, who would instantly deny any
charge of discourtesy to a lady, will do little things, half
unconsciously, that are neither courteous nor becoming a gentleman.

This comment does not refer to such acts as taking off one's hat to
every woman or girl one knows, nor to any of the ordinary acts of
politeness. Such are understood in these days. It does refer, however,
to slight matters that mark the man or boy who knows what good manners
are, and who invariably bears himself well in the presence of others.
Such a boy never speaks to a girl or woman, if she is standing, without
rising himself. I saw at a large restaurant, a short time ago, a man
approach three women and three men who were eating supper. No one of the
three men knew the fourth personally, but as he approached and spoke to
a friend among the women, all three arose, and remained standing until
the new-comer was gone. It was not a mark of courtesy to the fourth man.
It was a signification to the three ladies that for the time being the
new arrival was allowed the privilege of speaking to any of them if they
chose to invite it. That is merely an example of a small point, which,
perhaps, was not necessary, but the action not only pleased the women,
but certainly stamped the men as gentlemen.

Many a boy fails to rise from his chair when his mother enters the room,
while he would get up at once if a stranger entered, and one would
suppose that his mother, who is more to him than the rest of womankind
put together, should, to say the least, have from him the same marks of
courtesy as strangers. In fact, you can tell a boy's character pretty
accurately by the way in which he treats his mother; for as a mother has
probably done and will do more for her son than any other woman--with
perhaps one exception--will ever do, so he ought, in return, to treat
her as his most valuable possession. His courtesy, his chivalrous and
knightly bearing towards her are never thrown away.

She sees it all, and thinks more of it than any one else, and he need
never fear that his thoughtfulness is thrown away. Perhaps,
occasionally, such conduct may to a certain extent go unnoticed by some
other women, but by his mother never.

In the same way one's conduct to one's sister is a test of good
breeding. Sisters are not mothers, by any means, but still they demand
courtesy from their brothers. Perhaps a sister can be pretty hard to get
on with at times, but nevertheless she is a woman, and she can do
certain things without any fear of retaliation, because the nobility of
the man in the boy is bound to respect the woman in his sister.

Let her tease and tantalize, but remember that the best way to cure her
is to treat her so like a lady who could never descend to such methods
that she will soon be forced to stop in order to live up to the
character you have given her. Mothers come first, therefore, over all
the world, and sisters next. Treat them as carefully, with as much
thoughtfulness, as you do anything else in your life, and with even more
care, and then we can discuss the rest of womankind.

       *       *       *       *       *

LINCOLN AND THE POOR WIDOW.

The 12th of February, Abraham Lincoln's birthday, brings to our thoughts
stronger than ever reminiscences of this noble man's life. Hundreds of
books have recorded and will perpetuate his good deeds for centuries to
come; but it is a pleasure to read now and then of some little act of
kindness that will stand alone illustrating the breadth of this man's
sympathies and the nobility of his character. During all that dreadful
period when the civil war was ravaging the country Lincoln held the
reins of the government, and although worn out with unceasing toil, he
never neglected an opportunity to help those who suffered.

One day a poor woman, whose tears had worn furrows down her cheeks,
gained an audience with Lincoln, and in a few words related the sad tale
of her husband, who had fought in the Union army only to lose his life,
and of her three boys who were then fighting. She requested the
discharge of her eldest boy, that she might have some one to support
her. Lincoln's heart responded to the appeal, and he replied,
"Certainly, if you have given us all, and your prop has been taken away,
you are justly entitled to one of your boys."

The poor woman went away light of heart, only to return later, tearfully
begging the release of her second son. The discharge of the first son
had come too late. He was killed before it reached him. Sadly Lincoln
sat down and wrote the requisite order for the release of the second
son, and rising, handed the paper to the afflicted woman, saying, "Now
you have one and I have one of the two boys left; that is no more than
right." Weeping with joy, the poor mother blessed Lincoln, and hurried
out to send her precious order.

       *       *       *       *       *

WILFRID'S WISH.

  The wild fantastic snow-drifts
    Upon the orchard hill
  Look like a lot of billows
    Asleep and lying still.

  I wish they'd take to rolling,
    And then, wind-buffeted,
  I'd be a jolly sailor
    Upon my scarlet sled.

  R. K. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

DISCOVERY OF COPPERPLATE ENGRAVING.

Every one has noticed on his visiting-card the extremely delicate lines
of his name, and most every one knows that they are produced by printing
from an engraved copperplate. Like many other things of use and beauty,
this art of copperplate engraving was discovered through the merest
accident, by the goldsmiths of Florence, in the fifteenth century. It is
a historical fact, however, that, one day, an engraver on gold, wishing
to take a proof of his work, made the usual sulphur cast, and then
filled up the lines with lamp-black, thus enabling him to see exactly
how his work looked. While occupied in doing this it occurred to him
that possibly the same results could be obtained by filling up the
original engraving with lamp-black instead of making an impression of
it, and filling up that. Struck with the idea, he put it into practical
use, and with a little damp paper succeeded in getting a fair impression
from the engraving. The discovery was communicated to other workers in
this art, and they hailed it with joy, as it saved all the arduous
trouble of making sulphur casts, but they never saw the full value of
the discovery, and consequently the art of plate-engraving lay for
almost a century before its true import was discovered and brought out
in all its great and beautiful results. To-day collectors of
plate-engravings rave over the crude results of earlier times, and
search the world for examples of these early masters to add to their
collections. Many of these collections have been presented to museums,
where they may be seen and appreciated by the people.




[Illustration: STAMPS]

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


Almost every mail brings me a batch of inquiries as to which stamps are
sure to advance in value in the near future, and asking advice as to
buying up a quantity of certain stamps. To all such inquirers I would
say that collecting stamps for pleasure and speculating in stamps for
profit are entirely distinct things. HARPER'S ROUND TABLE is not
concerned about speculators. They may make money or lose it, as the case
may be, but collectors asking advice or information in the making up of
an album are always welcome. Of course philatelists rejoice when they
find that a stamp bought ten years ago for 25c. is now worth $25, and
that a collection on which a $100 had been spent in ten years is now
worth $1000. That is simply our common humanity. But the true
philatelist rejoices less in the money value of his collection than in
the fact that he possesses complete sets of certain countries, has
beautiful copies, or unusual shades of common stamps, etc.

Thirty-five years ago collecting began in the U.S. Almost every boy had
access to the family letters or those of some business house. The great
ambition of every boy was to get more kinds than any other boy of his
acquaintance could boast. Stamps had little value, and many a rare
stamp has been traded for an absolutely worthless common stamp. For
instance, the writer had literally hundreds of 18 kreuzer Würtembergs
in strips of three, four, or five copies, and hundreds of Western
Australia--sixpences and shillings. These were all exchanged for 20 or
25 centimes, French; 1d, 2d, 4d, and 6d, English; 1, 3, 6, and 9
kreuzer, German, etc.--an exchange of diamonds for pebbles, according to
the present stamp standards. And yet I sometimes think we early
collectors got a great deal more pleasure from our stamps than the
present army of collectors. Even when we got to know that some stamps
were scarcer than others the speculative element was not predominant.

     G. A. HALL.--Any U.S. printed in two colors in which the centre is
     reversed is valuable.

     R. WOSTOM.--The Danish coin is no longer current, and is worth
     bullion only. The 5c. piece can be bought for 10c.

     R. S. CHASE.--You have not allowed time enough for your Japanese
     correspondent. It takes three and sometimes four months to exchange
     letters in ordinary course.

     N. WELFARE.--The Samoan Express is a reprint. The post-card is
     worth face only.

     E. KJAN.--See advertising columns for stamps or albums.

     FRANCIS PAUL, 95 Nott Ave., Long Island City, wants to exchange
     U.S. unused stamps for foreign unused stamps.

     N. G. VAN CISE.--The U.S. stamps are printed in sheets of 200 or
     400, and are cut apart after printing. The guide lines are printed
     heavily to show where to cut.

     G. W. B.--Many of the 1869 blue 3c. stamp can be found with very
     faint marks of grill, and some with none at all. The rare reprints
     are on a different paper, and are distinguished by paper only. The
     New Zealand revenue stamps can be used for postage, but I fancy
     very few high values are really used for that purpose. _Caveat
     emptor._

  PHILATUS.




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_Just Published:_

SHORT STORIES OF ROMANTIC ADVENTURE

The Last Recruit of Clare's

Being Passages from the Memoirs of Anthony Dillon, Chevalier of St.
Louis, and Late Colonel of Clare's Regiment in the Service of France. By
S. R. KEIGHTLEY. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50.

     The connecting link of interest in these short stories of romantic
     adventure is the personality of a certain Anthony Dillon, late of
     Lord Clare's famous regiment. Mr. Dillon is an Irishman and a
     soldier of fortune, and inclined to be garrulous and even
     magniloquent at times, but for all that he tells his stories well.
     His creator, Dr. Keightley, has already done good work in the field
     of historical fiction.

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE

Alaskan Gold-Mine Camps

       *       *       *       *       *

By KIRK MUNROE

Snow-Shoes and Sledges

Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

     This story deals directly with life in the famous Camp Forty-Mile.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Fur-Seal's Tooth

("Snow-Shoes and Sledges" is a sequel to this.) A Story of Alaskan
Adventure. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

       *       *       *       *       *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York




[Illustration]

THE POLITE GHOST


Once there was a ghost--there were ghosts once--who thought to see the
world of men, women, and animals of by-gone days.

Possessing the power of annihilating space, both of yards and years,
this ghost called upon a weird thing, who said, after its surprise at
being disturbed had partly passed:

  "A feathered biped(1) I am known to be,
    But gifted with the power of English speech;
  Uttering again and many times again
    The saddest words within a mortal's reach.
  A grim dark thing of evil omen, I,
  Repeating evermore my doleful cry."

"Quite too grewsome even for me," said the ghost, as he entered a camp
of Brabacons(2). The sentinel, surprised at the strange voice, asked,
"Who goes there?" And the ghost, not being able to reply "friend," and
too polite to lie, vanished, and soon knocked at the door of the Pope of
Rome(3) who, tradition says, kicked the crown off a German emperor's
head, to show his power to make and unmake kings. The door being opened,
the ghost disappeared to call on the King of France(4) who once
navigated the Ohio River on a flat-boat and gave his name as Smith.

"Too vulgar royalty for me," said the ghost to himself, too well bred to
show his contempt. Turning to go he stubbed his toe--yes, this ghost had
a real toe--he stubbed his great toe against something. Picking it up he
found it to be the first book(5) to have its pages numbered. "That will
do," he said, under his breath, "to give to the 'Sword Hunters'(6). It
will be such a good joke on them, for it tells bigger lies than they
can."

Cutting 'cross lots, the ghost next scared out of an old abandoned house
a city of British India(7), and was so startled for the moment that he
wished himself in the United States with the insect(8) that country
people might carry to the barn when arriving home late at night. A wish
being equal to a journey by sea and land, the ghost was presently in
America. On the way, however, he passed over the sea(9) which, having
two outlets to larger seas, its waters never flow out, but always in,
and yet its surface is ever several feet lower than the larger waters
west and southeast of it. He startled the "midnight judiciary"(10),
begged the members' pardon, retired, and almost immediately crossed seas
and met the woman(11) who furnished Sir Walter Scott with descriptions
of Irish characters for one of his novels. He told her he wished to call
next on the Queen of England(12) who saved her husband's life by sucking
poison from a wound.

"You should take the 'X.Y.Z. letters'(13) with you as introduction," was
the reply.

"Even so," said the ghost, "I might not be received."

"But you would had you the tact of the man(14) who compared himself,
when he should be dead, to a book."

"Ah yes, but I have no country, being but a ghost. I am like the man(15)
who once refused a sword from a Russian Czar. If now I were the man(16)
who shut up Paraguay, making it a second Japan for twenty-five years!"

"Or the Pope of Rome(17) who was made a cardinal at the age of
fourteen."

"Ay, or even the Confederate commander(18) at the siege of New Orleans
in April, 1862."

Determining next to go to the smallest and oldest republic in the
world(19), the ghost bade his fair companion adieu and started. Wearied
with long travel, he sought conveyance. Finding himself on board a queer
one, he asked an explanation, and was told this:

  "A very mountain high and bright,
    In all the land I'm never seen;
  Formed of a substance liquid light,
    Yet hard and dealing death, I ween.

  "Men view me with delight and awe
    If I a distance safe preserve.
  But my approach they flee before,
    Nor pause my beauty to observe."(20).

The ghost next tried the ship(21) that carried the Golden Fleece. This
took him to lands where he mounted the seat beside the driver(22) of the
chariot of the sun. This he did, not without first being invited. He was
too well bred to presume.

But he had run his course, for even the outing of a polite ghost must
end. The Revolutionary general(23) who was once tied to the stake by
Indians, a fire started around him, and was then saved by a rainstorm,
got hold of him, this polite ghost, and was not to be scared by him.

"Who are you?" demanded the general.

"The god(24) of fun," replied the truthful, polite, and mythological
ghost.

"Heigho! Heigho!! Heigho!!!" shouted the general at the top of his
lungs, and looking up to the sky.

"I'll go, I'll go," said the ghost, frightened at the voice, but
relieved at sight of what came in answer to it.

"There! there's the porter of heaven who opens the door(25). Get you
gone," thundered the general.

And the ghost went.

       *       *       *       *       *

In this fanciful story are mentioned a lot of odd things--people by
their nicknames, articles by their descriptive characteristics, etc.
There are also some riddles. In sending answers, do not write out the
story. Number answers as numbered here, write one below another in the
proper order, and put your name and address at the top of your first
sheet of answers. Mail answers not later than March 1, 1897, to HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE, New York--no street number required--and put in the lower
left-hand corner of your envelope "Puzzle Answer." Correct answers, with
names of winners, will be published in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE as early
after the close of the contest as possible, probably within about two
weeks.

The prizes, which will be awarded by the Messrs. Harper & Brothers,
Publishers, New York, are: $39, divided among the three or four best
solvers according to merit. Persons of any age may help find the
answers, but only those who have not passed their 18th birthday, and who
are members of households in which this paper is regularly read, may
send them in. Merit signifies correctness and neatness, and has no
reference to the solution reaching the office of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
first in point of time. Elaborate decoration of answers is not
encouraged. Use common stationery, note size, and do not roll. Write on
one side of the paper only. Everything comes to those who--try!

       *       *       *       *       *

Questions and Answers.

Lee Heilman asks the origin and use of "Yankee." It is from "Yangees," a
corruption of "English," the name originally given by Massachusetts
Indians to early colonists. It was applied solely to New Englanders by
the British soldiers in the Revolutionary war; afterwards by foreigners
to all citizens of the United States; and finally by Confederates of the
South to all soldiers of the North during the civil war.--W. S. Goff
asks the origin and meaning of the "O" in names like "O'Connor." It
means "of," and came from names of places.--"What ship did William Penn
come to America in?" asks a Knight living in Iowa. It was the _Welcome_.
"Who came with him?" Ancestors of everybody now living in Philadelphia
who is anybody. At least that is the impression one gets, so many good
Quaker City folk laying claim to the honor for their ancestors. We
regret having to say that in not one of some twenty cyclopedias at our
hand is there mention of anybody on board the _Welcome_ save Penn
himself. The list is given in Watson's _Annals of Philadelphia_. Will
some reader in that city copy out the names and send them to Howard G.
Van Cise, Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. The Annals will be found in any
Philadelphia library.

Stanley Slingerland, 58 Hope Street, Brooklyn, N. Y., is a Knight of
eleven, and wants some Knight near his age to write him.--Marion H. V.
Tompkins, La Salle, N. Y., wants high and private school yells. Will you
send her yours?--Frank H. King, aged fourteen, desires a position on an
amateur paper. It is as contributor, we suppose. We fear he will find
few positions of any other sort. Amateur papers generally let one
fellow, the owner, "do all the work and board himself."--Fred T.
McNaughton: No drawing contests are in contemplation by the TABLE.--Rosa
E. Hutchinson asks: "In writing to some one in a foreign country, asking
for an autograph, should a stamp of that country be enclosed, or a
United States stamp? If the former, where may it be obtained?" Enclose
an American stamp. It will answer as well. If, however, you must have
foreign stamps, buy them from the dealers whose advertisements you find
in this paper. You can procure from them any stamps issued anywhere, and
at no excess of cost. In answer to your two other questions address one
care Scribner & Sons, New York, and the other simply Indianapolis.




[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

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


HOW TO FINISH LANTERN SLIDES.

For the benefit of those of our club who have never made lantern slides,
we give the cost with the list of materials required. Lantern-slide
plates, 55c. per box; mats, twenty-five for 25c.; wafers for marking
corners, 10c. per box; cover glass, 60c. per box (two dozen in box);
gummed binding strips, 20c. per hundred; printed labels for name and
number, 20c. per hundred.

The mats usually come with the opening already cut, but one style of mat
has the shape of different openings stamped on it in gilt lines, and may
be cut along the lines of the opening best suited to the subject. Having
the mat ready, place it over the slide on the film side, gumming it
slightly at the corners to hold it in place, then in the lower left-hand
corner of the slide as it lies film side up gum one of the round wafers.
This wafer is always placed at the lower left-hand side of the lantern
slide, and is a guide to the operator in putting the slide into the
lantern. Dust the film with a fine camel's-hair brush or a piece of
clean dry chamois, and place over it one of the cover glasses which has
been previously cleaned and polished. These glasses are very thin and
the edges sharp, and care must be taken in handling, or one is liable to
get a severe cut. Some lantern-slide makers, in preparing a quantity of
slides, finish each slide separately, while others mat the slides, then
apply the wafers, then the cover glasses, and so on through the several
operations necessary to the finishing of a slide. In the latter case it
is better to gum the cover glasses at the corners just enough to hold
them in place.

The next step is to bind the slide and cover glass together. Take one of
the gummed strips--which are cut the exact length required for the
slide--moisten it with a sponge, take the slide and cover in the right
hand, lay the end of the strip on the table (keeping hold of it with the
left hand), and put one of the corners of the slide near the end of the
strip. Press down firmly on the strip so as to hold it in place, and
bring the strip along the edge of the glass; then, without lifting the
slide from the table, lower the side on which has been placed the strip,
and carry the binder on to the next corner, and so round the plate. Turn
the edges of the strip down on the plate, cutting away the extra
thickness at the corners. If the strip becomes dry before the operation
is finished, it can be moistened again. The gum on the strips is so very
sticky that it will bear much rough usage and still hold the slide and
cover glass together.

The last process is to apply the labels. These are pasted on the
right-hand side of the slide, opposite the side on which is the wafer.
The slide is now ready for name and number, which is written or printed
on the label.

Many skilful amateurs make slides from their finest plates, thinking it
one of the best ways of preserving their pictures, for if the original
negative is broken, another can be made from the slide. Mr. E. L. Wilson
has invented an apparatus for viewing lantern slides without the aid of
a lantern. It consists of a large condensing lens fitted to a tube in
one end of which is a frame for the slides. This apparatus has been
given the name of touroscope.

     HARRY MCLACHLIN asks for a treatment for over-exposed plates. As
     soon as the image flashes up, showing that the plate has been
     over-exposed, take it from the developer and place it in a tray of
     clean water to stop development. Turn the developer from the tray
     and rinse the tray. Mix up a weak solution of developer, or dilute
     this same developer with one-third water. Add to it a few drops of
     a solution of bromide of potassium prepared with 1/4 oz. of bromide
     to 5 oz. of water. This solution should be mixed ready for use and
     marked "Restrainer." The bromide is called a restrainer because it
     makes the development proceed more slowly. Put the plate back in
     the tray and turn over the weak developer. Rock the tray gently,
     and if the image still comes out too fast, add a few more drops of
     the bromide. Unless the plate has been very much over-exposed, one
     can get a good negative by this process.

     HARRY MCLACHLIN, Whitehall, N.H.; H. A. KRETSCHMAR, West Nyack,
     N. Y.; LOUIS EARL SHERWOOD, North Ontario, Cal.; JOSEPH M. KIMBALL,
     16 Montague St., Providence, R. I.--wish to become members of the
     Camera Club.

     SIR KNIGHT HARRY CHASE, 175 Sumner St., Malden, Mass., wishes to
     get one or two pictures that have taken prizes in the ROUND TABLE
     contest. Will any member who has won a prize write to Sir Harry? He
     will pay for the pictures or exchange prints.

     M. R. asks if the Comet Camera is a good one for beginners. The
     Comet is a nice little camera which takes very small pictures. It
     would be more satisfactory to buy a larger camera, and use glass
     plates.




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Postage Stamps, &c.




[Illustration]

=STAMPS!= 300 genuine mixed Victoria, Cape, India, Japan, Etc., with
Stamp Album, only 10c. New 96-page price-list FREE. Approval Sheets, 50%
com. Agents Wanted. We buy old U.S. & Conf. Stamps & Collections.
=STANDARD STAMP CO., St. Louis, Mo., Est. 1885.=




[Illustration]

=ALBUM AND LIST FREE!= Also 100 all diff. Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only
10c. Agts. wanted at 50% Com. =C. A. Stegmann=, 5941 Cote Brilliant Ave.,
St. Louis, Mo.




STAMPS

100, all different, 10 cents. Sheets on approval at 50% com. Agents
wanted.

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1000

Best Stamp Hinges only =5=c. Agts. wt'd at 50%. List free.

=L. B. DOVER & CO.=, 5958 Theodosia, St. Louis, Mo.




100

stamps, all dif., only 5c.; postage, 2c. extra; list free. COLUMBIA
STAMP CO., Minneapolis, Minn.




LAUGHING CAMERA. 10c.

[Illustration: MY! OH MY!!]

The latest invention in Cameras. You look through the lens and your
stout friends will look like living skeletons, your thin friends like
Dime Museum fat men, horses like giraffes and in fact everything appears
as though you were living in another world. Each camera contains two
strong lenses in neatly finished leatherette case. The latest
mirth-maker on the market; creates bushels of sport. Catalogue of 1,000
novelties and sample camera 10c., 3 for 25c., 12 for 90c. mailed
postpaid. Agents wanted.

ROBT. H. INGERSOLL & BRO.

Dept. No. 62, 65 Cortlandt St., N.Y.




[Illustration]

$25.00 $15.00 $10.00

In Gold, will be paid to the three purchasers sending in the most
solutions of this novel Egg Puzzle. Interests and amuses young and old.
Requires patience & steady nerves. Send 15 cts. for Puzzle, (2 for 25
cts.) and learn how to secure a PRIZE.

Walter S. Coles, Neave Building, Cincinnati, Ohio.




=BUTTON-HOLE LANTERNS=, burn 6 hours, perfectly safe and clean, 20 cents.
=POCKET KINESCOPES=, figures move as if alive, 10 cents.

NOVELTY MFG. CO., NEWPORT NEWS, VA.




BOYS and GIRLS

can earn money by working half an hour daily distributing free samples
of Headache Powders. For full particulars address, =CAPITAL DRUG CO., Box
880, Augusta, Me.=




AN OVERRATED BOOK.

"Bosh!" cried Bobby. "What good is a dictionary? It only tells you the
meaning of words you know about; but when a baby says 'goo-goo' and
'gah-gah' at you, and you wonder what he means, it doesn't help a bit."

       *       *       *       *       *

NOT A BRIGHT PROSPECT.

"Well, Harry, I suppose you expect to be President of the United States
some day."

"I'm afraid not," said Harry. "My party's all gone to pieces. Why, even
I ain't in it any more."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

VALENTINE BY PROXY.

  In Ethel's palm the goat
    The valentine would place,
  But finding it so sweet,
    He swallowed it with grace.

  When little Ethel saw
    Such rapture on him shine,
  She murmured, "I will be
    Ronaldo's Valentine."

  And now Ronaldo's joy's
    On every breeze afloat,
  Since to her was his wish
    Translated by the goat.

  R. K. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

ONE WAY TO MAKE A RECORD.

"I got fifteen valentines," said Jackey--"one from pa, one from ma, one
from Jennie, and two from Mollie Perkins."

"Where did the other ten come from?"

"Oh, I sent the other ten to myself."

       *       *       *       *       *

At a political meeting in Kansas during the late campaign a free-silver
speaker was orating upon the subject of the "masses" and the "classes,"
and finally exclaimed, "Is not one man as good as another in this free
country of ours?"

A farmer in the audience cried out, "Sure, and a great deal better!"

       *       *       *       *       *

NO NEED TO LEARN.

"I'm afraid you'll never know how to write, Tommie," said his teacher,
sadly.

"Don't care," said Tommie. "Uncle Jim is going to send me a type-writer
for my birthday."

       *       *       *       *       *

A poor Irish woman took a copper kettle to a pawn-shop in order to
secure some money.

"I should think you would not want to put this up," remarked the
pawnbroker. "What will you cook your dinner in?"

"Sure it's to get money to buy meat with to put in it that I'm pawnin'
the thing."

       *       *       *       *       *

A New York police magistrate, who has made a reputation for
irascibility, was scolding half a dozen hawkers and peddlers who had
been arrested for standing about and encumbering the sidewalks. "We
can't allow this," exclaimed the excitable magistrate. "If everybody
stood in the street, how could anybody get by?"

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE TRAINED-MONKEYS' CAGE.

FIRST MONKEY. "You remember that boy who was teasing me yesterday? I
caught him by the wrist and pretty nearly twisted his arm off."

SECOND MONKEY. "Yes; I heard him tell another boy he got hurt by a
monkey-wrench."

       *       *       *       *       *

The story is told that Daniel Webster, when on his way by stage-coach to
Washington once, was looked upon with suspicion by his travelling
companions. Finally one of the latter tapped him on the knee and said,

"How far are you going?"

"I am going to Washington," answered Webster.

"Are you a merchant?" continued the inquirer.

"No, I am a Senator," replied Webster.

"Well, well!" exclaimed the other, holding out his hand. "I am relieved.
We feared you might be a highwayman."

       *       *       *       *       *

Two Irishmen were repairing a well over on Long Island, when suddenly
one of them missed his footing and fell to the bottom. The other,
greatly excited, leaned over the edge and exclaimed,

"Denny! oh, Denny! are ye dead?"

No answer came. Then he called again,

"Denny, if you're dead, speak!"

Presently the fellow at the bottom replied,

"Sure I'm not quite dead, man, but I'm spachless!"

       *       *       *       *       *

A HARD PROBLEM.

"What I can't understand," said Wilbur, "is why in winter, when it's
cold and we'd like to keep warm, we've snowballs to play with; while in
summer, when we'd give a million to be cool, they give us fireworks on
the Fourth of July?"

       *       *       *       *       *

COASTING AND COASTING.

"Come on coasting."

"Nope--too cold. I hate coasting in winter."

"Hoh! When else could you?"

"In summer, on board of a cat-boat."

       *       *       *       *       *

A DISTINCTION.

"Dear me, Johnnie, what _have_ you been doing? You are all over ink."

"No, mamma," said Johnnie, "I ain't! The ink is all over me."





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, February 16, 1897, by Various