{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33181/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33181","id":"gutenberg_33181","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33181","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's periodicals","Harper's Young People"],"text":"Produced by Annie McGuire\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]\n\nCopyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1895. FIVE CENTS A\nCOPY.\n\nVOL. XVI.--NO. 835. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nENGLISH ELIZA.\n\nA HALLOWEEN STORY.\n\nBY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.\n\n\n\"What was it that Obed saw?\" That question used to be asked by\nchimney-corners in the great farm-houses of an old New England\nneighborhood for many years.\n\nFor Obed in his boyhood on a certain last night of October, \"when the\nmoon was round,\" had seen a spectacle the account of which filled the\nminds of many good people with wonder and of simple people with terror.\nEven the cats and dogs seemed to be uneasy when it was discussed in an\nawesome tone of voice on old red settles, for such animals seem to share\nthe fears of their masters. \"Come, now, Obed is no fool,\" the\nwork-people used to say.\n\n\"What do you suppose it was that he saw? It was proper strange!\"\n\nObed lived in one of the farm neighborhoods near Medfield, a town famous\nin King Philip's war. The place has a fearful legend of a family who\nwere killed by the Indians, and a very curious story of a farmer who\nsaved his family at the time of the Indian attack by rolling out of the\ncellar a barrel of cider.\n\nIt is a quiet town to-day, not a long ride from Boston. It would delight\na tired man or an artist; it is old-fashioned and full of rural beauty,\na bit of old New England left over, as it were. Great elms throw their\ncloudlike shadows over the trim and well-kept roads in summertime. The\nchurches, the homes, the farms all show a historic pride. Here great\norchards once bloomed; here the Baltimore orioles still swing in the\nelms, and the bobolinks topple in the clover meadows. Here the lilacs\nstill bloom by door-yard walls, and the people draw water from the round\nstone wells of the generations gone.\n\nObed was a \"bound boy,\" as an apprentice lad was called. He was \"bound\nout,\" to use another old New England term, to a certain Mr. Miller, who\nwas a farmer and a cobbler. This Mr. Miller was named Brister--Brister\nMiller--a surname not uncommon in colonial times.\n\nA bound boy was one who was \"let out\" by his parents or guardian or the\n\"selectmen\" to the service of another for a term of years; really, a\nslave for a limited time. Brister Miller had in his family a bound boy\nand a bound girl.\n\nThe girl's name was Eliza. She had come to Boston from England. Her\nparents had died, and she had been found a home on Brister Miller's\nbowery farm. Bound children and boys and girls worked hard in the old\ntimes, and had but few privileges. They were sometimes allowed to go to\nthe \"General Training,\" and to share in the husking frolics, and they\nwere always permitted to listen for a time after \"early candlelight\" to\nthe stories that were told on old red settles in cool weather by the\nopen fires.\n\nAs Eliza had come from England she was called \"English Eliza.\" She was a\ngood-hearted, resolute girl. She became a great friend to Obed, whom her\nwarm heart pitied, owing to her own hard and solitary lot.\n\nIt was the last day of October. There had been a warm rain, which had\nkept Obed and English Eliza from the husk heap. The weather had suddenly\nchanged towards evening. A chill had come down from the north, and the\nfamily and work-people had gathered after supper around the crackling\nfire. Mr. Miller sat shelling corn with a cob, and Mrs. Miller began to\nknit by the tallow candle.\n\nThe work-people told stories. These stories were of a strange and\nexciting kind, and related to the times of the Indian war, or to people\nwith haunted consciences who thought that they had seen ghosts. Young\npeople listened to such tales in terror. English Eliza had never heard\nthese tales before or any narratives like them. She saw that the ghost\nstories filled Obed with fear, and she pitied him.\n\nOn this particular night, after a story had been told that made Obed sit\nclose to an older farm-hand, Mrs. Miller paused in her work, and,\nlifting her brows, said,\n\n\"There, English Eliza, what do you think of such doin's as that?\"\n\nEliza looked at Obed, and his fixed eyes and white face nerved her to\nmake a very honest and resolute answer.\n\n\"I don't believe in ghosts, marm.\"\n\n\"Why, Eliza?\"\n\n\"Honest people never see 'em; if they think they do, they find them out.\nIt is folks with haunted consciences that see such things, marm; folks\nwith something wrong, or touched in mind, marm. I wouldn't be afraid to\ngo right into a grave-yard at midnight. Why should I! I never did any\none harm. This is an awful night to some folks in England--those who\nfear a death fetch and have sins on their souls. But to good people this\nis the merriest night of all the year, except Christmas, only. It is\nHalloween, marm.\"\n\nWhat was the girl talking about? A \"death fetch,\" and merrymaking and\n\"Halloween.\"\n\nMrs. Miller dropped her knitting-work into her lap. The cat, who seemed\nto feel that there was terror in the air, leaped into the knitting. Mrs.\nMiller gave the poor scared little animal a slap, and then looking Eliza\nstraight in the face, said,\n\n\"'Liza, do you speak true? Remember, 'Liza, that you are a bound girl.\"\n\n\"Never a word in jest, marm. My folks were honest people, marm, and I an\nhonest girl.\"\n\n\"'Liza, what is that awful thing that you told about--that death fetch?\"\n\n\"On Halloween a person goes into the church and says a prayer, and when\nhe comes out into the church-yard he sees all the people who are going\nto die during the year. An old sexton did it, and he saw himself, marm.\nA death fetch is a warning, marm. There is no truth in such stories,\nmarm; my mother taught me never to believe 'em, marm, and she was an\nhonest, Christian woman, marm, and she used to say that a person who\nalways did right had nothing to fear. I would believe my mother's word\nagainst the world, marm. She died in peace, marm, and I want to be just\nlike her.\"\n\n\"'Liza, what is Halloween?\"\n\nBrister Miller stopped shelling corn. The company on the settle snuggled\nup close to each other, and the poor cat uttered a faint little \"meow,\"\nand received another slap from her mistress, which seemed to be comfort.\n\n\"Ghost night, marm. The night when good spirits visit their friends,\nmarm. It is All-Hallow eve--the eve of All Saints' day.\"\n\n\"'Liza, remember that you are a bound girl.\"\n\n\"I never forget it, marm.\"\n\n\"Now, tell the truth. What do they do on Halloween?\"\n\n\"They put apples into deep tubs full of water, and bob for them with\ntheir heads, marm; and they puts 'em also on sticks like a wheel, and\nhangs the wheel from the ceiling, with a burning tallow candle on one\nside of the wheel, and you catch an apple in your mouth as the wheel\nturns, marm, or else get smutched with the candle, marm, which is more\nlikely, and then you gets laughed at, marm. And you pare apples, and\nthrow the paring over your right shoulder, and it makes the first letter\nof the name of the man that you are to marry, marm.\"\n\nMrs. Miller lifted her hands.\n\n\"And you eat an apple before a looking-glass, holding a candle in your\nleft hand, and the one you are to marry comes and looks over your\nshoulder into the glass, marm. And they tell you to find fern-seed, and\nyou will become rich, marm. But there ain't any fern-seed to be found,\nmarm. And they do lots of things.\"\n\n\"'Liza, what do the saints have to do with such doin's as these?\"\n\n\"They like to see young folks enjoy themselves, I expects, marm.\"\n\n\"It is the ghost of the living that seem to come, 'Liza.\"\n\n\"All the more interesting, marm.\"\n\n\"Oh,'Liza! 'Liza! such things bode no good! Mercy! what was _that_?'\"\n\nThere came a succession of loud raps on the door.\n\n\"I hope that Halloween is not coming here,\" said Mrs. Miller.\n\nThe door suddenly opened with a gust of wind. A tall girl appeared out\nof breath, and said, \"Please, Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Hopgood's very sick. Ma\nwants to know if you'll let Obed go for the doctor?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, yes. Obed, you put the horse into the wagon, and go!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" echoed Mr. Miller. \"Obed, you go!\"\n\nObed's face was filled with pain and terror. English Eliza saw the\nexpression, and she understood it. Obed stood up, but did not move.\n\n\"Why don't you go?\" said Mr. Miller, severely.\n\n\"It is that night!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Halloween,\" he added. \"And I'll have to go by the way of the\ngrave-yard.\"\n\nEnglish Eliza's heart was full. \"I'm sorry I said these scary things,\nmarm. Let me go with him, marm. I ain't afraid of anything, marm, and I\ndo not wonder that Obed is afraid after such stories as they tell in\nthis new country, marm.\"\n\n\"Yes, 'Liza, you may go. I can trust you anywhere.\"\n\nObed's cords seemed to unloose, and his feet flew. In a few minutes Obed\nand English Eliza were mounted on the carriage seat, and were soon\nspeeding away towards the doctor's, which was in the centre of the town.\n\n\"Now, Obed, you shall keep Halloween. Young people in England sometimes\nride on this night by lonely places just to test their courage. Obed, I\nbelieve that you have only one fault, and that is what my poor mother\nwould have called superstitious fear. I think it is wrong to tell such\nstories to children as they have told you in this country. It will unman\nyou.\"\n\nIt was a still cool night. The wind after a changing day had gone down.\nThe moon hung high in the heavens, now and then shadowed by a fragment\nof a broken cloud. The road was filled with fallen leaves, which\ndeadened the sound of the wheels. The walnut-trees with their falling\nnuts sent forth a pleasant odor, and there was a cidery smell about the\nold orchards that here and there lined the way. They emerged at last\nfrom a wood, and came into full view of the old country grave-yard on\nthe hill-side, when something really surprising met their view.\n\nObed dropped the reins, and Eliza caught them. His knees began to shake,\nand he chattered, \"Prophets and apostles!\"\n\nThe horse trotted on.\n\n\"Whoa! What is that?\"\n\n\"Go long!\" said English Eliza, in a firm voice.\n\n\"Turn round--quick,\" said Obed.\n\n\"I can't, Obed; the road is too narrow. And I am on an errand of duty to\na sick woman, and I will not do it.\"\n\n\"Eliza, it is awful. I shall go mad if you go on. My brain is turning\nnow.\"\n\nThe sight indeed was a wonder. As it appeared from the road under the\nhill, a white horse arose from the grave-yard on the hill-side, and\nstood on his hind legs with his forefeet in the air.\n\n\"He is _pawing_ the sky,\" said Obed; \"never did any mortal man see a\nsight like that. He is climbing a shadow. I shall go crazy. Whoa!\"\n\nEliza shook the reins, and said, firmly, \"Go along!\"\n\n\"Eliza, it must be that Halloween. My nerves are all shaken up. I've\nheard of white horses before. I tell you, stop! We'll get out of the\nback of the wagon, and run home.\"\n\n\"Never!\" said Eliza.\n\n\"Well, I am going, anyway.\" Obed leaped from the wagon, exclaiming,\n\"I'll give the alarm!\"\n\n\"I am going for the doctor,\" said Eliza.\n\nObed flew. It was indeed a fearful tale that he had to tell when he\nreached the farm-house. We think that there seldom ever was heard a\nHalloween tale like that.\n\n\"It was a white horse, standing in the grave-yard, with his hind feet on\nthe graves and his paws in the sky,\" said he, \"and under him was a\nshadow like a cloud, and--\"\n\n\"But where is Eliza?\" asked Brister Miller.\n\n\"She rode right on after the doctor!\"\n\n\"And you left her to meet such a sight as that!\" said Mr. Miller.\n\n\"She would do it; she's onerary. There was no need that _both_ of us\nshould go for the doctor!\"\n\nBrister Miller called his hired people together, and they alarmed the\nneighborhood. At midnight a company of men had gathered before the\nhouse, who should go and see what this remarkable story could mean.\n\n\"I always thought that the girl was rather strange,\" said Mrs. Miller.\n\"There may be some witchery or other about this Halloween.\"\n\nEliza, brave girl that she was, rode firmly towards the hill-side\ngrave-yard. As she came nearer to it the white horse did not appear to\nbe so large as when she first saw it. It was indeed a horse, a live one;\nit had its forefeet on the lower limbs of an old apple-tree, which limbs\nwere bent downward toward the ground. It was eating apples off the high\nbranches, reaching its long neck up to pick them.\n\nHorses are very fond of apples, and try in every way to get into\norchards when they have gained a taste for the fruit. They have been\nknown to unhead apple barrels, and they will eat apples from the lower\nlimbs of a tree, and reach high for the apple limbs after the fruit on\nthe lower limbs are gone. They like sour apples, and in this way become\ncider drinkers.\n\nEliza stopped the wagon. She got out of it, and tied the horse to a tree\nby the roadside. It was midnight--Halloween. She thought of English\nmerrymakings, of the games with apples, of the curious old stories and\nsongs that she had heard on such nights as this in her girlhood. She\nhurried past the graves and came to the white horse, and said, \"Jack!\nJack!\" The horse seemed alarmed, let his raised body down to the ground,\nsnorted, and trotted away.\n\nEliza stood there all alone at that still midnight hour.\n\nThe moon rode clear in the heavens now; the woods were still, and around\nher were graves. Did she believe in spirits? Yes, in her mother's, and\nas soon as she thought of that she recalled that she had been sent for\nthe doctor, and that it was her duty to hurry on. Her heart would have\nbeen light, but for her pity for Obed. He had indeed proved a coward,\nbut he had been wrongly taught and trained.\n\nShe rode to the doctor's house, roused the doctor, and brought him back\nwith her to the neighborhood, and left him at poor Mrs. Hopgood's, and\nthen rode home.\n\nShe was surprised to see a crowd of men before the door. Obed stood\namong them. They awaited her coming in intense interest, but in silence.\n\nShe got down from the wagon, saying, \"Some one will have to carry the\ndoctor back again.\"\n\n\"Who will go?\" asked Mr. Miller.\n\nThere was no response. No one wanted to meet a white horse with his body\non a cloud and \"his feet in the sky\" on this mysterious night of\nHalloween.\n\n\"I will go,\" said Eliza, firmly.\n\n\"Yes, Eliza, you go,\" said Mr. Miller. \"You are a brave girl.\"\n\nEliza mounted the wagon seat.\n\nObed stepped up to her, and whispered, \"Say, Eliza, what was it?\"\n\n\"I will never tell; remember, now remember once for all, for your sake,\nObed, I will never tell. You played me a mean trick, Obed; but other\npeople were to blame for it; you never had any one to teach you like my\nmother. For your sake, Obed, left, as you are, all alone in the world, I\nwill never say another word. Now I have done my whole duty, Obed, and,\nalthough I cannot trust you, I will always be your friend.\"\n\nObed turned away.\n\n\"What did she say?\" asked the people.\n\n\"She said that she would never tell what she saw,\" said Obed.\n\n\"I shall keep a close eye on that girl hereafter. There may be witches,\nand she may be one. This is a very strange night, this Halloween.\" So\nsaid Mrs. Miller.\n\nObed had received an arrow in his heart. \"_Although I cannot trust\nyou_,\" the words spoken by Eliza haunted him. He went about a dull,\nabsent-minded young man, and the people attributed his sadness to the\nsight that he had seen in the midnight ride.\n\nEliza was always very kind to him. She never spoke to him of the night\nthat he had deserted her but once. It was on the eve before she united\nwith the village church.\n\n\"Obed,\" she said, \"I have something on my conscience. I owe it to you to\nsay that what I saw on that Halloween night would never have harmed you\nor me.\"\n\nThis confession added to his depression of spirits. He had indeed been a\ncoward, and forfeited the trust of the best and truest heart that he had\never known.\n\nThe Revolution came. A new flag leaped into the air. Obed had heard the\ncannon of Bunker Hill, and seen from afar the smoke of the battle as it\narose on the afternoon of that fateful day.\n\nThere was a call for minute-men. A horseman came riding into Medfield,\nblowing a horn, and calling upon the farmers to volunteer.\n\nObed started up at the sound. He knew what was wanted.\n\nHe called Eliza out under the great elms.\n\n\"English Eliza, I am going. I shall never come back. You will never see\nme again. I shall never come back. Some one must die in this cause, and\nwho better than I? Coward you think me, but you do not know me. I am not\nafraid to die. We were thrown upon the world together, and I have\nthought well of you. Don't you remember how we used to go sassafrasing\nwith each other?\"\n\n\"Yes, Obed.\"\n\n\"And looking for Indian-pipe when we were not looking for anything?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And picking blue gentians in the old cranberry meadows?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And listening to the bluebirds when the maples were red; and to the\nmartin birds when the apple-trees were in bloom; and to the red robins,\nand all?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes.\"\n\n\"And we used to sing out of the same book on Sundays.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You remember; I do. Eliza, I want you to make me one promise.\"\n\n\"I always thought well of you, Obed. I would die for you.\"\n\n\"I am going away, and I shall die for the cause. Some day the news will\ncome back to ye that I am dead; that I fell on the field somewhere. I do\nnot know where it will be. Will you forgive me, then, for being a coward\non that Halloween night when I was a boy and you was a girl? Promise me\nthat now.\"\n\n\"I forgave you long ago. I believe you to be a brave, true-hearted man,\nObed. I think the world of you.\"\n\n\"But you don't _know_ that I am not a coward. You will know. You will\nforgive all, then?\"\n\n\"Yes; there is nothing between us now.\"\n\n\"'Yes,' you say. That word is all that I desire in this world. I am now\nready to go.\"\n\nHe fell fighting bravely at Monmouth. Then English Eliza for the first\ntime told the story of the midnight ride on Halloween, and what it was\nthat Obed saw, and she added in tears,\n\n\"_But_ he was a brave man, Obed was!\"\n\n\n\n\nHER FIRST SEA VIEW.\n\n\n  She walked across the glistening sands,\n    Beneath the morning skies,\n  With tangled sea-weed in her hands,\n    And sunshine in her eyes.\n\n  Far off--as far as she could see--\n    The snowy surges beat,\n  And once--she laughed delightedly--\n    The water kissed her feet.\n\n  She tossed her pretty curly head--\n    Her lips, half-open buds--\n  \"It's mermaids' washing-day,\" she said;\n    \"The sea is full of suds!\"\n\n  Then part in glee, and part in doubt,\n    And wholly in surprise,\n  She added, \"When the wash is out,\n    I wonder how it dries?\"\n\n  MARTHA T. TYLER.\n\n\n\n\nHOW TO FIND AND MOUNT SIGNETS.\n\n\n[Illustration: SCARABAEUS.]\n\nThere is nothing prettier or more attractive, hanging on the walls of\none's parlor or chamber, than a group of signet impressions in\nsealing-wax of various colors, artistically arranged and handsomely\nmounted; while the pleasure to be derived in seeking them is quite as\nkeen as that which the coin or stamp hunter enjoys, without the expense\nattached to them, for our seals cost comparatively nothing. The outfit\nis simple, consisting of a dozen sticks of sealing-wax in different\ncolors--black, brown, red, gold, white, and green, making a charming\ncombination with any other shades that take the fancy of the collector.\nA light wooden or strong pasteboard box to carry the articles, a box of\nmatches, a white taper (cut in half for convenience' sake), and, later\non, a piece of stiff white card-board (16 x 22, 22 x 28 being good\nsizes) to mount them on.\n\n[Illustration: SEAL OF CONFEDERATE STATES.]\n\nKeep in the bottom of the box containing the wax a dozen or more pieces\nof thick, white, unruled writing-paper cut into ovals, circular, oblong,\nand square shapes, varying in size from one-half inch in width to two\ninches in length. This is all that is required. Now for our hunt. As you\nmeet friends and acquaintances notice their rings and watch-charms. When\nany are discovered with a figure, title, handsome monogram or initial on\nit, borrow it, and make your impression. This is accomplished by laying\na piece of your writing-paper, at least half an inch larger than the\nseal to be used, on some smooth surface like a table. Then take a stick\nof wax between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand. With the left\nhand light a match or taper, and bring them together just on the paper\nwhere the wax melts sufficiently to drop freely, rub the end of the\nsealing-wax quickly over the middle of the paper. Then moistening the\nseal with the tongue to prevent the stone adhering to the burning wax,\npress it firmly into the hot bed prepared for it, a second or so, being\ncareful to lift it straight up when taken off, thus securing a clean\nedge. If this is properly done a fine impression of your subject is\nsecured. Repeat this operation several times, taking different-colored\nwax for duplicates, which will enable you to make exchange with other\ncollectors, who are unable to get these same figures, but have others\nnot in your collection.\n\nIn this manner one is able to secure rare and beautiful heads of men and\nwomen, animals, birds, and fishes. These should be placed in a box by\nthemselves carried for the purpose--as fast as taken. When the writer\nstarted his group, which was mostly made in Washington, D.C., a few of\nthe young people met one evening at a friend's house and decided to\nbegin together, which greatly enhanced our amusement. Some one suggested\nwe should assemble once a week at each other's homes, and bring our\nfriends with us, so that all could see the impressions and make\nexchanges.\n\n[Illustration: KNIGHTS OF GOLDEN CROSS.]\n\nThis was carried out an entire winter, and we found such a course added\nimmensely to our finds and pleasure, as there is no collecting that\nadapts itself better for club purposes than this for both boys and\ngirls. The capital proved, too, a particularly good field for us, being\nfull of people who had seals gathered from all parts of the world.\nEnglish, French, German, Italian, and Spanish coats of arms were found,\nbesides quite a variety of exquisitely cut heads in antique rings,\ngathered from the tombs and curiosity shops of Greece, Italy, and Egypt.\nIn most cities the seals may be found in museums and private\ncollections, and as the act of making an impression in wax is not\ninjurious to them, and requires but little time, we found people\ngenerally very willing to allow it. When a sufficient number of seals\nare gathered, _i.e._, enough to fill a card-board, they are mounted by\nfirst marking the place where they are to go faintly with a lead-pencil.\nBegin by making a square-cut line in the centre of the board, a little\nsmaller than the writing-paper which contain the seal impressions. This\nis for the largest of them, then, according to size, graduating to the\nsmallest.\n\n[Illustration: Socrates.]\n\nThe others may be clustered around the first, which should have the most\nspace about it, with at least an inch of border. When the outlines are\nall drawn take a sharp knife and, following the pencil marks, cut\nentirely through the mounting-board.\n\n[Illustration: Homer.]\n\nThe seals are placed in their proper position by covering the outer\nedges of the paper they are on with mucilage and then pressing the\ncard-board on to them, taking care that the seal shows through the\ncentre of the cut space.\n\n[Illustration: Treasury Dept. Con. States.]\n\nFor a pretty effect, if the largest seal in the middle is red, surround\nit by a circle of yellow ones, followed by blue, gold, brown, and black,\ngiving a harmonious whole. Some collectors run a line of blue or red ink\nabout the card-board, with ornamental curves at the corners as a\nfinishing touch.\n\nHave it framed in some light wood, like ash, oak, or holly, three and a\nhalf to five inches in width, with a glass over it.\n\n\n\n\nSEA RANGERS.\n\nBY KIRK MUNROE,\n\nAUTHOR OF \"ROAD RANGERS,\" THE \"MATE\" SERIES, \"SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES,\"\n\"FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH,\" ETC.\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE RANGERS HAVE DEALINGS WITH PIRATES.\n\nWhen the rest of the Rangers were awakened to the fact that there were\nothers on the island besides themselves, they were so certain that\nCaptain Crotty had returned, and so excited over the prospect of being\nrescued from their unpleasant situation, that but for Will Rogers they\nwould have rushed to the beach at once with shouts of welcome.\n\n\"Hold on, fellows,\" he said, in a low tone. \"I don't believe the skipper\nis down there, for, you know, he never swears--at least we never heard\nhim--while those men are swearing like pirates. The rest of you wait\nhere while Hal and I slip round to that far point, where we can get\nclose to them without being discovered. Come on, Hal.\"\n\nThe other boys were not at all satisfied with this arrangement, however,\nand the two scouts were hardly out of sight before Mif Bowers said:\n\n\"Look here, fellows, I don't see why we should be left behind doing\nnothing. We are just as anxious to know who those men are as anybody.\nBesides, supposing they should go off before Will and Hal got to the\npoint. Then we'd be as bad off as ever, and I, for one, am too sick of\nthis plaguey island to be left on it any longer. So I'm going to sneak\ndown a little closer, and make sure they don't get away without our\nknowing it.\"\n\nAs the speaker started to carry out this intention the others followed\nhim. Only little Cal Moody, who was afraid to go, and almost equally so\nto stay alone, remained behind. The others had not got more than\nhalf-way to the beach before they saw a tall figure coming directly\ntoward them.\n\n\"Lie low, fellows!\" whispered Mif Bowers, throwing himself flat amid a\ngrowth of bayberry and sweet-fern. The rest of the boys instantly\nfollowed his example, and the approaching figure had almost passed them\nwithout discovering their presence, when it stopped to listen to a sound\nof pattering feet and an anxious voice calling in suppressed tones:\n\"Mif! Fellows! Wait for me!\" The next moment little Cal Moody ran with a\nstartled cry plump into the stranger's arms.\n\n[Illustration: \"ANSWER ME INSTANTLY, YOU YOUNG RASCAL, OR I'LL THROTTLE\nYOU.\"]\n\n\"Hello!\" cried the latter. \"What's this? Who are you? and what are you\ndoing here? Answer me instantly, you young rascal, or I'll throttle\nyou.\"\n\n\"Please, sir, I didn't mean any harm,\" gasped poor Cal, frightened\nnearly out of his senses. \"I'm only a Road Ranger-- I mean a sea-- That\nis, I'm only a boy, and the others left me behind, and I got scared, and\nwas looking for them. But I'll go right back, if you'll only let me go.\"\n\n\"So there are others, are there?\" remarked the stranger, at the same\ntime keeping a tight hold of Cal's arm. \"Who are they? and where are\nthey?\"\n\n\"Only boys, sir, like me, and we're camping out, and waiting for Captain\nCrotty to come for us, and we've drunk up all our water, and are 'most\nout of everything to eat, so we thought, perhaps, you--\"\n\n\"Where is your camp?\" interrupted the stranger.\n\n\"Right back here a little way.\"\n\n\"Then come along and show it to me.\"\n\nSo Cal and the stranger started toward the tent, and the hidden Rangers\ncrept after them to see what was to be done with their youngest member;\nonly Cracker Bob Jones sped swiftly away in the direction taken by Will\nand Hal to notify them that the camp was discovered, and bring them back\nto its defence in case the new-comers should prove aggressive.\n\nAs Will and Hal were moving slowly, and with all the caution of scouts\napproaching an enemy's camp, Cracker Bob overtook them before they\nreached the point toward which they were making their way; and, on\nlearning of the new turn of affairs, they hastily retraced their steps.\n\nBy this time daylight was appearing, and when the Ranger scouts neared\ntheir camp they saw the other boys gathered about a strange man, who did\nnot appear either ferocious or inclined to enmity. In fact, they were\nall chatting and laughing in the most friendly manner.\n\nAs the three late comers approached, the stranger stepped forward, and\nextending his hand said, \"So this is Captain Will Rogers is it? I am\nhappy to meet you, my lad, and glad that I am in a position to offer you\nsome assistance out of your present difficulty. My name is Bangwell,\nZenas Bangwell, at your service, and I am the owner of this island,\nhaving recently purchased it. I am about to erect a summer residence\nhere, and have just run over from Newport in my yacht _Whisper_, for the\npurpose of selecting a building site, getting acquainted with the\nharbor, and so forth. The season being so well advanced, I have got to\nhurry things, and took advantage of the calmness of the night to strip\nmy yacht of her interior fittings, and fetch them ashore, as I intend to\nbring over my lumber and supplies in her. Now I am about to return to\nNewport, which is, as you doubtless know, only a couple of hours' run\nfrom here, and if you want to take passage with me I shall be most\ndelighted to have you do so, especially as my young friend here tells me\nyou are all good sailors. That will enable me to leave my crew behind,\nto begin clearing a place for the foundation of my cottage.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Will Rogers, doubtfully, \"we are expecting some one--\"\n\n\"Oh!\" interrupted the glib stranger, \"I forgot to say that I met your\nfriend, Captain Crotty, who was forced to take his sloop, the\n_Millgirl_, to Newport for docking, and as he cannot be ready for sea\nunder several days, he begged me to bring you back with me, always\nsupposing that you were ready to leave the island. Now as I am in a\ngreat hurry to be off, for I hope to go to Newport and return to this\nplace again before night, I must ask you to gather up your traps as\nquickly as possible, while I return to the beach and have a boat got\nready to take us to the yacht, where you will find breakfast waiting,\nand, of course, plenty of fresh water. You need not bother to bring\nanything except your personal belongings, as I shall make Captain Crotty\na handsome offer for the Camp as it stands, to be used by my workmen. In\nfive minutes I shall be ready.\"\n\nThus saying, Mr. Bangwell took his departure, waving his hand pleasantly\nto the boys as he went.\n\n\"Isn't this the biggest kind of luck?\" cried Mif Bowers. \"I tell you\nwhat, Will, you are altogether too suspicious. Now, I didn't think those\nchaps were pirates or anything of the kind from the very first.\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied the Ranger Captain, \"it may be all right; but I'm not\nwholly satisfied yet, and I don't know as we ought--\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, we ought, fast enough,\" interrupted Mif Bowers. \"We'd be great\nfools if we didn't take this chance, when Captain Crotty has sent for us\ntoo. Anyhow, I for one am not going to stay here any longer to die of\nthirst, let alone hunger.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" and \"Me, too,\" shouted others.\n\nSo Will yielded to the voice of the majority, and busied himself with\nrolling up his blankets. If he had not been so very thirsty he might\nstill have argued the question, but no argument could prevail against a\nvision of the yacht's water-tanks. And, after all, Mr. Bangwell's story\nwas very plausible. If at that moment he could have been present at an\ninterview on the beach between the stranger who had just left them and\nseveral tough-looking men who had suspended their work to gather about\nhim, the young Ranger's misgivings would have been replaced by\ncertainties of a very disquieting character. The speaker was saying:\n\n\"You see, mates, I suspicioned that some of the kids we heard of as\ncamping out on this island might still be here, so I just strolled up to\nhave a look. Sure enough, I found them, or, rather, another lot, I take\nit, who are waiting here for some craft to come along and take them off.\nThey are green as grass, though, and I pumped them dry in a hurry. As\nquick as I found that they are as anxious to get away from here as we\nare to have 'em, I faked up a yarn about having just bought the island,\nand being in a hurry to get back to Newport in my yacht for supplies.\nThey claim to be first-class sailors, though, between you and me, I\ndon't believe they know enough to navigate a scow at anchor. It gave me\na lead, though, and so I invited them to help me sail the yacht over to\nNewport, while my crew--you fellows, you understand--staid behind to\nbegin building operations. They jumped at the chance, and will be down\nin a minute with their plunder. So we want to be ready for them, and set\n'em aboard at once without giving them a chance to examine any of this\nstuff.\" Here the speaker pointed to a miscellaneous pile of boxes,\nbarrels, and bales, with which the other men had been busy.\n\n\"I'll sail far enough with them to get 'em well started,\" he continued,\n\"and then give 'em the slip some way, and I don't believe they'll know\nenough to get back again, even if they want to. So we'll get rid of\nthem, and the yacht, too, before the schooner comes, as well as throw\nany craft that's hunting us off our track, till we've had plenty of time\nto get clear, for they're certain to sight the yacht and follow her. Oh,\nit's a fine graft, and we want to work it for all it's worth! So,\nScotty, you take the yawl up to the far end of the beach, and I'll take\nthe gig, while you other fellows lie low till we are off.\"\n\nThe plan thus arranged was carried out to the letter, and ten minutes\nlater the Sea Rangers found themselves once more afloat in a natty\nschooner-yacht, evidently brand new, with Mr. Bangwell at the wheel, and\nthe gig towing astern, while the second boat was being rowed back to the\nbeach by an evil-looking man, who answered to the name of \"Scotty.\"\n\nIn his haste to be off, Mr. Bangwell had not waited to get up the\nanchor, but had slipped the cable, saying that he could pick it up on\nhis return.\n\nThe yacht was not more than a mile outside the harbor, and Mr. Bangwell\nwas just informing Will Rogers that the course for Newport was east by\nsouth half south, when the former noticed a dingy-looking schooner\napproaching them from dead ahead. Without drawing attention to her, he\nexclaimed:\n\n\"By-the-way, boys, breakfast is ready in the cabin, so just tumble down\nand pitch in without waiting for me. I'll steer till one of you can come\nup and take the wheel.\"\n\nThe Rangers having quenched their thirst immediately on getting aboard,\nwere feeling more than ever hungry, and so needed no second invitation\nto breakfast. Thus in another minute Mr. Bangwell had the deck to\nhimself. With a muttered excuse for so doing, which the boys only heard\nindistinctly and heeded not at all, he drew the companion-hatch and\nclosed the cabin doors. Then he lashed the wheel in a certain position,\ncast loose the painter of the gig, slipped into the boat, and rowed\nrapidly away toward the on-coming schooner, leaving the yacht to take\ncare of herself.\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nCAPTURED BY A MAN-OF-WAR.\n\nThe breakfast that the boys found awaiting them was not particularly\ninviting, as it consisted principally of a big pot of muddy coffee, a\npan of hardtack, and a dish of cold bacon. Still, they were too hungry\nto be dainty, and so pitched into it, with a right good-will.\n\n\"My! I should think he had stripped her,\" said Hal Bacon, gazing about\nthe dismantled cabin. \"It's a shame, too. The idea of carrying lumber in\nsuch a fine craft as this!\"\n\n\"Yes. Isn't she a beauty?\" cried Cracker Bob Jones, admiringly. \"I'd\nlike to cruise in her for a month. If Captain Crotty isn't ready for us,\nsuppose we offer to help bring her back to the island again.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't mind taking a cruise in her,\" acknowledged Will Rogers, \"if\nonly Captain Crotty or some other first-class sailor was in charge, but\nsomehow I can't wholly trust this Mr.--\"\n\n\"Oh, pshaw, Will!\" cried Mif Bowers. \"If you aren't the most suspicious\nchap I ever knew. The man is trusting us, and I don't see why we\nshouldn't trust him. Besides, what could he do, anyhow, against so many\nof us? Why, we could take possession of this yacht and run away with her\nif we wanted to.\"\n\n\"Who'd sail her if we did?\" asked Will, laughing at the idea of his\nRangers turning pirates in that way.\n\n\"Why, we would, of course. I rather guess we know enough by this time,\nafter all the experience we've had, to sail a boat of this size. I know\nI would, anyhow.\"\n\nJust here there came such a tremendous flapping of sails, thrashing of\nropes, and banging of blocks from overhead that the boys made a rush for\nthe deck to see what was up. To their dismay the cabin doors were not\nonly closed but locked. In vain did they pound, kick, and shout to be\nreleased. There was no answer to their cries, though the terrifying\nracket overhead continued with increasing violence.\n\n\"Something serious has happened,\" shouted Will Rogers, with a very pale\nface. \"Perhaps Mr. Bangwell has fallen overboard, and a squall has\nstruck us. Anyway, we must break open these doors.\"\n\nBut the doors were stout, and for several minutes resisted their utmost\nefforts. Finally, however, they gave way, and the boys poured on deck.\nBy this time the alarming noise had ceased, for the yacht, which had\nthrown her head into the wind, had again filled away and resumed her\ncourse of her own accord.\n\nThe Rangers gazed about them in bewildered amazement. There was no trace\nof the man whom they had left on deck, nor of the boat that had towed\nastern.\n\n\"He must have fallen overboard and got drowned,\" said little Cal Moody,\nin an awe-struck tone.\n\n\"He must have deserted us and gone off, though I can't understand why,\nnor see where he has gone,\" answered Will Rogers, as he mechanically\nstepped to the wheel and cast off its lashing. \"There is something wrong\nabout this whole business, and we are left in a pretty pickle. Now the\nquestion is what shall we do about it?\"\n\n\"Go back to the island and wait for Captain Crotty,\" suggested several.\n\n\"Keep on to Newport,\" advised others.\n\n\"But we don't know where it is,\" objected Sam Ray. \"I'd run for the\nnearest land.\"\n\n\"And be wrecked again. Not much.\"\n\n\"We could anchor when we got near shore.\"\n\n\"No, we couldn't, 'cause we haven't got any anchor. Don't you remember\nwe left it behind?\"\n\n\"That's so. Well, then, let's keep on till we meet some vessel, and then\nask where Newport is.\"\n\n\"We know the course to Newport,\" suggested Mif Bowers, \"for I heard him\ntelling you, Will.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" admitted the latter. \"He told me that Newport lay east by south\nhalf south, but I don't believe it. In fact I think it lies just the\nother way.\"\n\n\"All right, then; let's go that way.\"\n\nAs it seemed to be the general opinion that this was the best thing to\nbe done, Will Rogers, who was gradually getting the hang of the\nunaccustomed wheel, brought the yacht close on the wind, and ordered all\nsheets trimmed flat. This much he had learned on board the _Millgirl_.\nBy thus doing, he could lay a course a little north of east, which he\nhoped would take them to the vicinity of Newport.\n\nThe others discussed their situation, the disappearance of Mr. Bangwell,\nand the probable ending of this most remarkable cruise with unwearied\ntongues. They still believed themselves to be good enough sailors to\nhandle the yacht, and take her anywhere they chose. At the same time\nthey devoutly hoped that fair weather would hold until they reached some\nsafe harbor, and earnestly wished for the sight of one.\n\nIn the mean time Will Rogers was puzzled to account for his inability to\nkeep the yacht on her course. She persistently fell off from it, and\nseemed to be making leeway almost as fast as she did headway, although a\ngood breeze was blowing. \"There must be a tremendous current,\" he said\nto himself, \"and I guess I'd better head the other way.\"\n\nSo, in imitation of Captain Crotty's well-remembered order, he sung out,\n\"Ready about!\" and then put the helm hard down. He did not, however,\nremember to slack his head-sail sheets, and none of the others\nremembered it for him. The yacht shot up into the wind all right; but\nafter hanging there for a minute with slatting sails, she gracefully\ntilled away again on her former tack. She had missed stays. Again and\nagain Will tried to get her about, but failed in every instance.\n\nNow, for the first time, the Rangers began to grow alarmed, and to\nrealize that something was lacking in their knowledge of seamanship.\nTheir craft would sail all right where she chose to go, but not where\nthey wanted her to.\n\n\"I never heard of a boat acting this way!\" cried Will Rogers, finally,\nand in utter despair.\n\n\"Let me try,\" said Mif Bowers; and, glad to share his responsibility,\nWill released the wheel.\n\nMifflin met with no better success than Will, and not only that, but\nbecame so badly rattled by a sudden puff that heeled the yacht over\nuntil her lee rail was under water, that he let go of the wheel in\nterror, yelling to Will to take it before they were capsized.\n\nEven their hoped-for assistance from other craft failed them; for,\nthough several, all evidently yachts, approached at different times\nduring the day, they all sheered off when near enough to distinguish the\nsignals fluttering from the _Whisper_'s mast-heads.\n\nSo the unhappy Sea Rangers, growing more and more terrified with each\npassing hour, sailed all day without making any land or being able to\nhail a single vessel. By nightfall they were enveloped in a thick fog,\nthe wind had whipped round and was blowing half a gale from the\neastward, a heavy sea was running, and most of the boys were so\nprostrated by sea-sickness that they no longer cared whether they lived\nor died. Just before dark Will Rogers and little Cal Moody, who were the\nonly ones not affected by sea-sickness, lowered all the sails, and\nmanaged clumsily to secure them.\n\nNone of the Rangers had ever dreamed of anything so awful as the long\nhours of darkness that followed, during which their craft drifted,\nrolling and pitching furiously, and utterly at the mercy of wind and\nwave. At length, after what seemed an eternity of darkness and terror,\nWill Rogers, who, with little Cal cuddled close beside him, was half\ndozing with utter weariness in the cockpit, was roused into a sudden\nactivity by the unmistakable boom of breakers close at hand.\n\n\"Hello, fellows!\" he yelled, springing to his feet, \"tumble up here in a\nhurry and make sail or we'll be lost. We're almost on the rocks now!\"\n\nThis thrilling summons was sufficient to banish even sea-sickness, and a\nfew minutes later the yacht, under mainsail and jib, was slowly drawing\naway from the dangerous though still unseen reef.\n\nSome hours afterwards a hot sun, scattering the sullen fog-bank, poured\nits cheery rays over the haggard-looking Rangers, who, in various\nattitudes of utter misery, occupied the wet decks of the yacht. All at\nonce they sprang to their feet with shouts of dismay and terror, for,\nout from a low hanging bank of mist, that was slowly rolling away\nastern, there came a flash as of lightning, and the thunderous roar of a\nheavy gun. At the same moment, as though it had been cloven in twain by\nthe shot, the fog opened and a United States man-of-war, snow-white and\ngleaming in the sunlight, loomed up directly behind them, terrible and\nyet grandly beautiful in its on-rushing majesty.\n\nThe Rangers gazed at this bewildering apparition in speechless terror,\nfully expecting that another minute would see them run down and crushed\nlike an egg-shell. As the monster dashed up abreast of them, at the same\ntime slackening her speed with reversed engines, an officer, hailing\nfrom the bridge, demanded to know the yacht's name.\n\n\"_Whisper!_\" shouted Will Rogers, recovering somewhat his self-control.\n\n\"What do you mean by that, you impudent young pirate?\" roared back the\nofficer, angrily. \"Why don't you heave to? Heave to, sir, at once, or it\nwill be the worse for you.\"\n\n\"We don't know how,\" sang back Will, while all the others trembled in\ntheir bare feet, and almost expected to receive a broadside from the\ngleaming guns that grinned at them not a stone's-throw away.\n\n\"Then lower your sails and come to anchor, while I send a boat aboard,\"\nshouted the officer, as the great white ship glided by.\n\nThe yacht's crew could not anchor, but they let down their sails by the\nrun, and a few minutes later were approached by a boat from the\nman-of-war, bearing a brass howitzer in its bows, and manned by a lusty\ncrew of blue jackets.\n\n\"Way enough! Oars!\" commanded a voice from the stern of the boat, as it\ndashed alongside, and at the sound every Ranger was thrilled as though\nby an electric shock. In another moment they had rushed forward, and\nwere overwhelming with their clamorous welcome the younger of the two\nofficers who had just gained the yacht's deck.\n\n\"Mr. Barlow! Sir! I am amazed. What is the meaning of all this?\"\ndemanded the elder officer, sternly.\n\nTo this Billy Barlow, Ready Ranger, and naval cadet, just now attached\nto the United States practice-ship _Bancroft_, made bewildered answer:\n\"Why, sir, they are not pirates, after all, but my own schoolmates from\nBerks. I know every one of them, and can vouch for their character as\nfor my own.\"\n\n\"Then, perhaps,\" said the lieutenant a little less sternly, but still\nwith a decided trace of suspicion in his voice, \"you can explain how\nthey happen to be in possession of the yacht _Blue Billow_, which was\nstolen from her anchorage in the East River by a gang of thieves four\ndays ago, and run off with the most valuable cargo of plunder ever taken\nout of New York city. If you or they can explain this satisfactorily,\nwell and good. If not, it is my duty to clap them in irons, and convey\nthem aboard the ship as prisoners.\"\n\n\"I think I can explain the situation to your satisfaction, sir,\" said\nWill Rogers, boldly, \"though this is the first we have heard about\nthieves or stolen goods.\"\n\nThe officer listened with closest attention to Will's story, and when it\nwas finished, he said, with a smile: \"Well, young gentleman, I am very\nmuch inclined to believe you, and am very glad to be able to carry back\nsuch a favorable report to our commanding officer. Mr. Barlow, you will\nremain, with two men, in charge of the yacht. Make sail and stand off\nand on within easy hail of the ship.\"\n\nAs soon as the Lieutenant had departed, and Billy Barlow had carried out\nhis instructions, the naval cadet was overwhelmed by a torrent of\nquestions from the bewildered Rangers.\n\nWhy did he call this yacht _Blue Billow_ when her name is _Whisper_? How\ndid a man-of-war happen to be sent after her? How did you know where to\nfind us? etc., etc.\n\n\"Because,\" answered Billy Barlow, laughing, \"she belongs to Admiral\nMarlin, who has only just built her. He named her after your play, which\nhe happened to see in Chester; and when she was reported stolen, we got\norders to keep a lookout for her during our cruise down the Sound. We\nheard of you yesterday evening from several yachtsmen, who had\nrecognized your flag; but thinking you were a lot of pirates, had no\ndesire for a closer acquaintance. It's big luck, though, that I happened\nto be along to identify you, for our first luff is in a towering rage at\nyour supposed insult in telling him to whisper when he hailed you.\"\n\nThe yacht was shortly hailed again, and ordered to follow the _Bancroft_\nto the vicinity of the island on which the Rangers had so recently\ncamped, and which, to their great surprise, they now learned was not\nmore than a couple of miles away.\n\nAs they sailed toward it, with Billy Barlow at the wheel, he asked Will\nRogers how it happened that he had been trying to sail close hauled with\nhis centreboard up.\n\n\"Why,\" replied the Ranger Captain, \"I never thought of that, and don't\nbelieve I should have known what to do with it if I had, for, you see,\nthe _Millgirl_ didn't have any centreboard, and so we didn't learn about\nit.\"\n\n\"Which shows,\" remarked Billy Barlow, sagely, \"that it isn't safe to go\nto sea, especially in command of a vessel, without a previous and pretty\nextensive experience in various styles of craft.\"\n\n\"And after you've got your extensive experience, perhaps you won't ever\nwant to go to sea again,\" laughed Will Rogers. \"At any rate, that's the\nway I feel now.\"\n\n\"I don't care whether you call it extensive experience or sea-sickness,\"\nchimed in Mif Bowers, \"but I know I've had enough of it to last me a\nlifetime.\"\n\n\"Last night I promised myself that if ever I set foot on dry land again\nI'd stay there, and I mean to keep my promise, too,\" announced Cracker\nBob Jones, with an expressive shake of the head.\n\n\"I think,\" said little Cal Moody, \"that I'll resign from the Sea\nRangers, for I don't seem to care as much about being one as I did.\"\n\nAnd this was the opinion of the entire wet, ragged, dirty, barefooted,\nsunburned, hungry, and generally disreputable looking crew of the yacht\n_Blue Billow_.\n\nAt the island they found the _Millgirl_, with poor Captain Crotty almost\nbeside himself with anxiety. He was so overcome with joyful emotion at\nthe safe reappearance of his missing charges that, as they thankfully\nscrambled aboard the old sloop, he could only exclaim, \"Waal, I'll be\nblowed!\"\n\nHe had met a dingy old schooner sailing out of the harbor as he entered\nit, and described her so minutely that the commander of the _Bancroft_\ndecided to go in pursuit of her at once. This he did, ultimately\ncapturing her, with Mr. Bangwell and his pals, together with all their\nplunder, including the handsome fittings of Admiral Marlin's yacht on\nboard.\n\nThe _Blue Billow_ was sent to New York in charge of prize-master William\nBarlow and a picked crew of seamen, while the sturdy old _Millgirl_ bore\nher picked crew of landsmen, who no longer had the least desire to\nbecome seamen, safely back to Berks.\n\nHere, after showing up at their respective homes, the Rangers met in\nspecial session at Range Hall for the purpose of giving honorary member\nPop Miller a full account of their recent expedition. The little old\ngentleman listened with absorbed attention, and when the tale was\nconcluded he exclaimed:\n\n\"Marmaids, mutiny, shipwreck, cast away on a desolate island, hungry,\nthirsty, kidnapped, pirates, lost at sea, captured by a man-o'-war, and\nsafe back home, all inside of one week, is a record what I don't believe\ncan be beat by any other lot of Sea Rangers in the hull world\"--which\nconclusion is fully shared by every member of the Ready Rangers of\nBerks.\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\nOAKLEIGH.\n\nBY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nIt was four years later, and it was again the day before Christmas.\n\nCynthia sat in her own room by the bed, which was covered with presents\nin various stages of completion; some tied up and marked, ready to be\nsent, others only half finished, and one or two but just begun. Bob, as\nusual, lay at her feet.\n\n\"There!\" cried she, as with a loud snap her needle broke for the third\ntime; \"there it goes again. I believe I'll give up this wretched frame\nand all the other things that are not finished, and go to Boston this\nmorning. I'll just buy everything I see, regardless of price.\"\n\n\"You would never get near the counters, the shops are so packed,\"\nobserved Edith, who was hovering over a table full of lovely articles on\nthe other side of the large room. \"Just send what you have, Cynthia, and\nlet the rest go. You can't possibly finish them in time. You give so\nmany Christmas presents.\"\n\n\"Oh, it's all very well for you, with all those wedding-presents and the\nChristmas things you'll have besides, to think other people won't want\nthem! You don't take half as much interest in Christmas as usual this\nyear, Edith, just because you are going to be married so soon. Now I\nshould never change about Christmas if I were to be married forty\ntimes--which I hope I sha'n't be. In fact, I've about made up my mind\nnever to marry at all.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! I think I used to say that myself when I was as young as you\nare.\"\n\n\"And you're just two years older, so according to that you were saying\nso this time two years ago, which was not by any means the case, for you\nwere already engaged to Dennis then! In fact, I don't believe you ever\nsaid it. Oh, another needle! I'm too excited to work, anyhow. What with\nweddings and Christmas and the boys coming home, I am utterly incapable\nof further exertion.\"\n\nShe tossed the unfinished photograph-frame across the bed and leaned\nback in her chair. Then she began to gather up her work materials.\nFinally she moved restlessly to the window.\n\n\"It is beginning to snow. I hope the boys won't be blocked up on the\nway. Wouldn't it be dreadful?\"\n\n\"I suppose you mean Neal. Of course Jack can get out from Cambridge. Ah,\nhere comes Dennis!\" and Edith hastily left the room.\n\n\"Dennis, Dennis--always Dennis!\" said Cynthia to herself. \"I wonder if I\ncould ever become so silly? Certainly I never could about Dennis Morgan,\nthough he is a dear old fellow, and I'm very glad I'm going to have him\nfor a brother-in-law.\"\n\nCynthia stood for some time at the window, looking out at the swiftly\nfalling flakes which were already whitening the ground. Bob stood beside\nher, his fore-paws resting on the window-sill. He belonged to Cynthia\nnow; but she patted his head and whispered in his ear that his master\nwas coming, which made the black tail wag joyfully.\n\nFour years had, of course, made considerable change in Cynthia; and yet\nher face did not look very much older. Her fearless blue eyes were just\nas merry or as thoughtful by turns as they had always been--at this\nmoment very thoughtful; and the pretty head, with the hair gathered in a\nsoft knot at the back, drooped somewhat as she looked out on the\nfast-gathering snow.\n\nShe was wondering how Neal would be this time. During his last visit he\nhad seemed different. She wished that people would not change. Why was\none obliged to grow up? If they could only remain boys and girls\nforever, what a lovely place the world would be! She had hated to have\nEdith become engaged, and now in two days she was going to be married\nand leave the old home forever. To be sure, she was to live in Brenton,\nin a dear little house of her own, but it would not be the same thing at\nall.\n\nOf one thing Cynthia was sure. She would never marry and go away from\nOakleigh; she would stay with her father and mother forever. The next\nwedding in the family would be either Jack's or Janet's. Jack had\novercome his shyness and become quite a \"lady's man,\" and as for\nJanet--but just then the young woman in question came into the room.\n\nShe was eleven years old now, tall for her age, and with her hair in a\n\"pig-tail,\" but the roguish look in her eyes showed that, like the Janet\nof former times, she was ever ready for mischief.\n\nShe carried a pile of boxes in her arms, and was followed by Willy, who\nstaggered under a similar load, and by Mrs. Franklin, also with her arms\nfull.\n\n\"More wedding-presents,\" Janet announced. \"Edith and Dennis have been\nlooking at them, and they sent them up for you to see and fix.\"\n\nAs she uttered the last words one of the boxes slipped, and away went a\nquantity of articles over the floor--spoons, forks, gravy-ladles, and\nsalt-cellars--in wild confusion, cards scattered, and no means of\ntelling who sent what, nor in which box anything belonged.\n\n\"Janet,\" groaned Cynthia, \"if that isn't just like you! You ought to be\ncalled 'The Great American Dropper,' for everything goes from you.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" returned Janet, cheerfully. \"Willy, you pick them up while\nI see who's coming. I hear wheels. It's a station carriage.\"\n\n\"Is it?\" cried Cynthia. \"Can it be already?\"\n\n\"It's Aunt Betsey,\" was Janet's next piece of information.\n\n\"Oh!\" came from Cynthia, in disappointed tones.\n\n\"Why, who did you think it was?\" asked her young sister, turning and\nsurveying her calmly and critically. \"Aren't you glad to see Aunt\nBetsey? And why is your face so very red? Are you expecting any one\nelse?\"\n\n\"No, only the boys,\" said Cynthia, busying herself with the scattered\nsilverware.\n\n\"The boys! I don't see why your face should look so queer for them.\"\n\nMrs. Franklin glanced at Cynthia quickly.\n\n\"Come,\" said she, much to her daughter's relief, \"we must go and welcome\nAunt Betsey.\"\n\nThe little old lady was as agile as ever. She had come for Christmas and\nfor the wedding, which was to take place on the twenty-sixth.\n\n\"I am glad you didn't put it off,\" she said to Edith when she had kissed\nher and kissed Dennis, and patted them both on the shoulder. \"Never put\noff till to-morrow what can be done to-day, as I learned to my cost late\nin life--though not so very late, either. And now I want to see the\nwedding-presents.\"\n\nAnd she trotted upstairs in front of them just as nimbly as she did\nyears ago, when she went up to show her nieces her new false front.\n\nJack arrived in the afternoon. He was a Sophomore at Harvard now--very\nelegant in appearance, very superior as to knowledge of the world, but\nunderneath the same old Jack, good-natured, plodding, persevering. He\nstill ran the poultry farm, though he paid a man to look after it while\nhe was away.\n\nThe day wore on, night came down upon them, and still Neal did not\nappear. He was to have left Philadelphia that morning, where he had been\nliving during the past four years. He had grown more accustomed to the\nconfinement of business, he had made a number of friends outside of the\nQuaker element, and he expected Philadelphia to be his permanent home.\n\nHis cousin was apparently satisfied with his success, for Neal had risen\nsteadily since the beginning, and would one day be a partner. He had\ncome home to Oakleigh every summer for two weeks' vacation, but he had\nnot spent the Christmas holidays there since the year that his sister\nwas married.\n\nThis Christmas eve, Cynthia, in her prettiest gown, donned for the\noccasion, grew visibly more and more impatient, in which feeling her\nstep-mother shared. Mr. Franklin laughed at them as he sat by the lamp\nreading the evening paper as usual.\n\n\"Watching won't bring him,\" he said when they opened the front door a\ncrack for the twentieth time and then shut it hastily because of the\nsnow that blew in; \"and in the mean time you're freezing me!\"\n\n\"Papa, how can you be so prosaic as to read a stupid old newspaper\nChristmas eve?\" cried Cynthia, as she caught the paper out of his hand,\ntossed it aside, and seated herself on his knee.\n\n\"Seems to me my little daughter looks very nice to-night,\" he said,\nlooking at her affectionately. \"She has on a very fine frock and some\nvery superior color in her cheeks.\"\n\n\"Well, it is Christmas eve, and the fire is hot,\" explained Cynthia.\n\n\"Ho!\" laughed Janet, \"that isn't it! You began to get blushy when you\nthought the boys were coming this morning. You thought--\"\n\n\"Janet,\" interposed Mrs. Franklin, \"run up stairs quickly and get the\nlittle white package on my dressing-table, dear. I forgot to put it in\nthe basket. You can slip it in.\"\n\nFor the old Oakleigh custom still obtained, and the presents were\ndeposited in the basket in the hall.\n\nJanet, her explanations nipped in the bud, departed obediently, her love\nof teasing overcome by her desire to see, feel, and even shake the\n\"little white package,\" which had an attractive sound.\n\nAnd at last Neal arrived. The storm had begun at the south, and there\nhad been much detention; but he had finally reached his journey's end,\nand here he was, cold and hungry, and very glad to reach the friendly\nshelter of Oakleigh.\n\nFrom the moment he came in Cynthia found a great deal to do in other\nparts of the house--things which seemed to require her immediate and\nclosest attention. She left her mother and sister to attend to the wants\nof the traveller, and beyond the first shy greeting she had very little\nto say to him. When there was nothing left to be done she devoted\nherself to Aunt Betsey. But as soon as Neal had appeased his appetite\nthe excitement of opening the presents began, and the assumption of\nindifference to his coming was no longer necessary.\n\nOn Christmas afternoon Neal asked Cynthia to go out with him. The day\nwas clear, the sleighing fine, and he anticipated having an opportunity\nfor a long talk with her, uninterrupted by the claims of relatives. It\nseemed to him that there were more people than ever who received a share\nof Cynthia's attention. He would like to have her all to himself just\nonce.\n\nVery much to his chagrin, however, Cynthia, who accepted his invitation\nwith apparent cordiality, insisted that they should go in the double\nsleigh, and that Aunt Betsey and some one else should go too.\n\n\"It would be very selfish and quite unnecessary for us to go in the\ncutter when Aunt Betsey is so fond of a sleigh-ride,\" she said,\nseverely.\n\nNeal grumbled under his breath, but could say nothing aloud, as Miss\nTrinkett was in the room. To be sure, when they drove off, Cynthia sat\nin front with him, while his sister entertained her aunt on the back\nseat; but it was not by any means the same thing as going with Cynthia\nalone would have been.\n\nThat young woman, with apparent unconsciousness of his dissatisfaction,\nchatted gayly about the wedding, the various bits of Brenton gossip, and\neverything that she could think of to keep the ball of conversation\nrolling. Somehow it had never before been so difficult to talk to Neal.\nShe wished that he would exert himself a little more.\n\n\"How do you like the idea of being usher,\" she asked--\"you and Jack and\nfour others, you know? Tom Morgan is to be best man, Gertrude and Kitty\nMorgan are to be bridesmaids, and I maid of honor. But, Neal, did you\nhear the story about Tony Bronson?\"\n\n\"No; what?\"\n\n\"Oh, he did some terrible thing not very long ago. He forged his uncle's\nname, I believe. It got into the papers at first, and then it was all\nhushed up, and his father paid the money. But wasn't it dreadful?\"\n\n\"I should say so! But it is just what one might have expected Bronson to\ndo, Cynth.\"\n\nAnd then Neal relapsed into silence again, and Cynthia determined that\nshe would make no further effort at conversation. If Neal would not talk\nhe need not, but neither would she. And after this, with the exception\nof Miss Betsey's voice from behind, nothing was heard but the jingle of\nthe sleigh-bells until the drive was over and they were at home again.\n\nThe wedding the next day passed off well. The bride looked lovely, as\nall brides should, and Cynthia was as pretty as, if not more so than,\nher sister. After the ceremony at the church there was a reception at\nthe house, which, notwithstanding the winter aspect without, looked warm\nand gay in its dress of Christmas-greens and wedding-flowers.\n\nEdith was upstairs in her old room, and her mother and Cynthia were\nputting the last touches to her toilet when she had changed her dress to\ngo away.\n\n\"Mamma, I want to say something to you,\" she said, putting her arms\naround Mrs. Franklin's neck. \"You know how I love you now, and you know\nonly too well how hateful I was to you when you first came to us. I look\nback on it now with horror, especially the day you heard me say it was\nso dreadful to have the Gordons come. I want to tell you, mamma, that\nnext to Dennis the coming of the Gordons was the very best thing that\never happened to me in my whole life!\"\n\nMrs. Franklin could not speak; she could only kiss her and hold her\ntenderly.\n\nCynthia said nothing aloud, but she thought that the coming of the\nGordons was the very best thing that had ever happened to her, without\nany exception whatever. Dennis, in her eyes, was of minor importance.\n\nThe bride and groom went off amid a shower of old shoes, and then the\nguests slowly betook themselves to their homes. It was the first wedding\nat Oakleigh for many years, and it was celebrated in a manner befitting\nsuch an important occasion. Some of the intimate friends staid during\nthe evening, and when they left, the family, tired and worn with\nexcitement, separated early.\n\nThe next day Neal went to see some of his former friends. He was absent\nseveral days, for he had been granted extended leave, and was not due in\nPhiladelphia until the 2d of January.\n\nIt seemed very lonely and strange at Oakleigh after the wedding was\nover. It was the first break in the family of that kind, and Cynthia\ncould not become accustomed to it. She thought that accounted for the\nunusual fit of depression which seized her the morning Neal went away,\nand which she could not shake off, try as she would.\n\nEdith and Dennis were to return the last day of the year, and spend a\nshort time at the old homestead before going to their new house. Neal\nalso was to come back that day, and Cynthia found herself longing for\nNew-year's eve. She did want to see Edith so much, she said to herself a\ndozen times a day.\n\nAnd at last New-year's eve came, and with it the absent members of the\nhousehold. A merry party sat about the supper-table that night. Cynthia\nwas the gayest of the gay. Her contagious laugh rang out on all\noccasions, but, indeed, everybody laughed at every one else's joke, and\nparticularly one's own joke, apparently without regard to the amount of\nwit contained therein.\n\nAs the evening lengthened Cynthia grew more quiet. The last night of the\nyear always impressed her with its solemnity, young though she was. She\nleft the others where they were sitting about the fire waiting for the\nclock to strike, and wandered off to the dining-room, to the library, up\nstairs--anywhere. She could not sit still.\n\n[Illustration: SHE WAS JUST COMING DOWN THE BROAD OLD STAIRCASE.]\n\nShe was just coming down the broad old staircase when Neal suddenly\nappeared at the foot. He had been waiting for her. He was to go back\nto-morrow, and he had determined to speak to her before he left.\n\nShe paused a moment in surprise, and the light from the Venetian lantern\nwhich hung in the hall shone down on her soft curly hair and young face\nas she stood with her hand resting on the bannister. Neal thought he had\nnever seen so lovely a picture.\n\n\"I want to speak to you, Cynth,\" he said, leaning against the carved\npost at the foot of the stairs and effectually barring the way. There\nwas nothing for her to do but to listen. \"I have tried for ages, ever\nsince I came, and you never will give me a chance.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! You have been away. How could you expect to talk to me if you\nwent away?\"\n\n\"I know; but I had to go. Besides, you wouldn't have let me if I had\nbeen here.\"\n\n\"Let us go back to the parlor. It is almost twelve.\"\n\n\"No, I want you here.\"\n\nCynthia was about to reply defiantly, but something in Neal's eyes made\nher drop her own. She stood there in silence.\n\n\"Cynthia, do you remember that day on the river in the rain?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Do you remember what you called me then?\" No reply.\n\n\"Tell me, Cynth; do you remember what you called me?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" very low.\n\n\"You called me a coward. Do you think I am one now?\"\n\n\"Oh no.\"\n\n\"But you also said you had faith in me, Cynthia; and in Philadelphia\nthat spring I told you I was going to prove to you that I was worthy of\nyour faith. Do you think I have, Cynthia?\"\n\n\"Yes, Neal.\"\n\nHe said nothing for a minute. Then he glanced at the old clock in the\nback part of the hall. It was five minutes of twelve.\n\n\"Come to the hall window, Cynthia,\" he said, taking her hand; and\nCynthia went with him. \"That other New-year's eve we stood here and\nlooked out on the snow just as we're doing now. Do you remember?\"\n\n\"And I made good resolutions which I never kept,\" said Cynthia, finding\nher voice at last. \"Oh, Neal, my bureau drawers are just as untidy and\nmy tongue is just as unruly as ever! I make the same good resolutions\nevery New-year's eve, but I always break them. You were wiser. You would\nnot promise that night when I wanted you to, but you have done a great\ndeal better than if you had.\"\n\n\"I would not promise when I should have done so. But won't you return\ngood for evil, Cynthia, and promise me something? Promise me that before\nmany more New-year's eves have come and gone you will be my wife! For I\nlove you--love you, Cynthia! I have loved you ever since that day on the\nriver--indeed, long before that! Hark! the clock is beginning to strike.\nPromise before it stops.\"\n\nAnd Cynthia promised.\n\nAnd the old clock struck twelve, as it had done thousands of times\nbefore, and the old year died, and for us the story is finished. But for\nNeal and Cynthia a new year and a new life were dawning, and for them\nthe story had but just begun.\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\nRATHER ODD.\n\n\n\"Papa,\" said Jimmieboy, \"you are the nicest man in the world.\"\n\n\"And you are the nicest boy in the world,\" said his father.\n\n\"Yes; I guess that's so,\" said Jimmieboy. \"Isn't it queer how we both\nmanaged to get into the same family.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOMBARDMENT OF THE GOLDEN GATE.\n\nBY YATES STIRLING, JUN.\n\n\n\"A strange fleet is in sight to the westward.\" This is the startling\nreport of the telephone from the Farallone Islands, situated\ntwenty-eight miles nearly due west of San Francisco. The General\nreceives the report without a sign of the anxiety he feels, and\ncontinues his study of the huge maps before him. He is contemplating the\nvast amount of work that has been accomplished in the last three months\nsince war had been declared. Then San Francisco had been a defenceless\ncity at the mercy of the most insignificant enemy; now it is as near\nimpregnable as human skill and ingenuity can make it.\n\nThe General takes a lingering look at the maps on his desk; running over\nthe different forts, he sees with pride that there is nothing left\nundone.\n\n[Illustration: Point Bonito. Point Diablo. Lime Point.\nPoint Lobos. Sutro Heights. Mortar Battery. Mining Station. Fort Point.\n\nBIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE GOLDEN GATE.]\n\nOn Point Lobos, the southern cape of the outer harbor, on high bluffs,\nare three 16-inch rifles mounted on disappearing carriages, the guns, in\nthe loading position, being behind breastworks of earth and concrete. In\nthis position the guns are sighted, then going up to the firing position\nabove the earthwork for only a few seconds on firing, and then recoiling\nto their position of safety. On the high land between Point Lobos and\nFort Point are two 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles in Grueson turrets,\nthe armor consisting of eighteen inches of Harveyized nickel steel. The\nturrets are segments of a sphere, and are manipulated similarly to those\non a battle-ship. A little higher up is one of the two formidable\npneumatic guns, the explosion of whose shell within twenty yards of a\nship would send her to the bottom. At Fort Point, the southern cape of\nthe Golden Gate, in earthworks of old design patched up and\nstrengthened, are four 10-inch rifles with disappearing carriages. On\nthe northern cape of the Gate, Point Bonito, are three 16-inch rifles\nmounted in a similar way. The second pneumatic terror is also at this\npoint, commanding the entrance to the Gate. Point Diablo is fortified\nwith three 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles on disappearing carriages, and\nLime Point will defend the harbor with four 10-inch rifles mounted in\nthe same way. The outer harbor seaward of Fort Point and Point Diablo\nhas been well mined, making it impossible for a vessel to enter in\nsafety even though she had escaped the tons of steel hurled at her. The\ncables from the mines are led to a central station on the bluffs back of\nFort Point. If by chance the enemy's ships should ride over this hidden\nexplosive, the simple pressure of a key in this station would send them\nall to destruction. At the mine station are two observers, who, by an\ninstrument similar to a range finder, discover from time to time the\nposition of the enemy on their chart. When the unlucky vessel is over a\nmine the key is pressed.\n\nOn Sutro Heights is a heavily armored tower, the inside of which to an\ninexperienced eye would appear like a central telephone station. It is\nthe General's headquarters in action. From here he and his staff will\ndirect and control the battle. This is the brain of the intricate\nfortifications. The nerves run to every battery and central station,\nmaking it but the work of a minute to transmit orders to any point.\nBefore another half-hour has slipped away everything is activity within\nthe forts. The wires from the General's tower are busy with the many\norders transmitted.\n\nActual hostilities began months ago in the East, but as yet have not\nlaid their cruel hand on the Pacific slope. New York has been the scene\nof most of the strife.\n\nWhile the army has been making the Golden Gate a fortress, the navy has\nnot been idle. All the fighting ships on the coast have been collected,\nand the work on the new ones so expedited that a formidable fleet has\nbeen massed in the harbor. The _Oregon_, the only first-class\nbattle-ship of the West, cleared for action, the Admiral's blue flag\nflying at her truck, is lying behind Alcatraz Island; made fast to the\ndifferent mooring-buoys by slip-ropes is the rest of the Pacific fleet.\nThe _Monterey_, low and formidable, is nearest the island, barely\ndistinguishable against the dark land; her heavily armored turrets,\nbristling each with two great 12-inch rifles, are a menace to any\nbattle-ship. The _Monadnock_, a double-turreted vessel, is close to the\n_Oregon_; in her turrets she carries two 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles,\nand inside of her dark hull are brave men who will show the enemy that\nthe American monitor is as deadly a foe as of old. The _Olympia_,\n_Philadelphia_, _Baltimore_, _Charleston_, _Bennington_, and _Yorktown_,\nall protected cruisers, are equally ready to do battle with any of the\nenemy that it is their duty to encounter.\n\nThe foreign fleet is now in sight from Sutro Heights. A glance through\nthe powerful telescope tells the General it is the enemy--six\nfirst-class battle-ships and eight cruisers, for the belligerent country\ndepends upon the capture of this rich city to defray the heavy expense\nof the war.\n\nThey are approaching in double column, the battle-ships leading. Nearer\nand nearer they come. The range-finders at the different batteries show\nthe range is rapidly diminishing. News has reached San Francisco, and\nthe high bluffs about the city are thronged with an excited crowd. The\nblue-coated regulars have dispersed from the little knots about the\nguns, and have gone to their stations, and stand ready at the command to\nopen the greatest battle the West has ever seen. On the ships of the\nenemy come, majestically cutting the smooth sea, throwing the silvery\nspray upon their bare forecastles, over which their heavy turret guns\nare to soon speak.\n\n\"Four miles, sir!\" reports one of the General's aides. The batteries at\nLobos and Bonito are ordered to open fire. The six big 16-inch rifles\nthunder forth their challenge almost simultaneously, and nearly three\nand a half tons of steel go speeding toward the approaching enemy. All\neyes are turned seaward, and are just in time to see columns of water\nthrown up close aboard the on-coming ships. Again and again the heavy\nbatteries speak; shot after shot goes on its deadly flight, making havoc\non board the silent vessels. The fleet is approaching at nearly\nfifteen-knot speed; it will take them but eight minutes to reach the\nrange, when tons of gun-cotton will be sent out to meet them both above\nand below the peaceful sea. They are heading directly for the entrance.\nWhat can be their intention? Will they dare attempt to run the forts? Do\nthey suppose the harbor is clear of mines and they have naught to fear\nsave the guns? The range-finder dials point to 4000 yards from the Gate.\nAll the guns on the forts are blazing forth fire, but the gunners' aims\nare poor, and the better part of the shots are fruitlessly ploughing up\nthe sea in the vicinity of the enemy. One well-aimed 16-inch shell\nstrikes home on the nearest ship; her armor is pierced, and she has\nbecome unmanageable and drops out of the advancing columns. Nearer and\nnearer comes the fighting. At last the dreaded puffs of smoke dart from\nthe battle-ships' turrets, and the shells are coming screeching ashore,\ntearing up the earth in the fortifications. With a glass one of the\naides is scanning the sea at the entrance to the harbor. An exclamation\nescapes him as his glass focuses on some object of interest; with a\nflinger trembling with emotion he points out to the General two small\nred flags, barely distinguishable on the water's surface, midway between\nPoint Lobos and the nearest ship. A glance shows it to be the flags on\nthe Sims-Edison controllable torpedo. Out it goes at a terrific speed;\nnearer and nearer it approaches its intended victim. Harmless enough\nlook these small pieces of bunting, but underneath the water not many\nfeet lurk nearly five hundred pounds of deadly gun-cotton. It has passed\nastern of the leading ship. Will it run out its scope and fail? A small\ncolumn of water is seen to ascend from the flags, and the next moment\nthe second battle-ship is nearly engulfed in a mighty explosion. The\nfirst charge tears the torpedo net; the second makes one less ship to\nattack the batteries, for she is fast sinking. The gun-cotton has\nexploded against her steel hull. A cruiser drops out to render\nassistance.\n\nAn explosion that seems like an earthquake to those in the\nfortifications tells that the first gun-cotton shell has exploded near\nthe enemy. One of the leading battle-ships heels over and slowly sinks\nbeneath the waves; her seams have been opened by the force of the\nexplosion. The enemy now is in irregular formation, more nearly like\ndouble echelon; they are pouring in a scathing fire on all the\nbatteries. As they approach the torpedo range they starboard and stand\nout to sea, bringing to bear their after turrets. Some of their shots\nhave committed awful havoc ashore; gun after gun has been dismounted,\none of the pneumatic guns has been struck by a shell and is a total\nwreck. The remaining controllable torpedoes have failed.\n\nThe pneumatic gun on Point Bonito is aimed at the nearest ship, but a\nmile and a half away; the gauge on the accumulator shows the air\npressure is sufficient. The lever is tripped, and the quarter-ton of\ngun-cotton, with a whir, is hurled on its errand of destruction. The eye\ncan distinguish the aerial torpedo as it soars to the height of its\ntrajectory, and then majestically and swiftly steals down toward its\nhelpless prey. Will it explode? It strikes the water a few yards from\nthe target, but the looked-for explosion does not follow; the fuse has\nfailed. The next minute every gun of the enemy is trained upon this\nterrible weapon, knowing that if the shell is again let loose their\nships will be like chaff before this tremendous power. The enemy is now\nconfident of victory. Signals go up on the flag-ship, and in a very few\nminutes the old formation is resumed, and once again they head for the\nharbor.\n\nThe firing becomes hot and furious; broadside after broadside belches\nforth from the enemy's steel sides; a few shells go wide into the city,\nand dense columns of black smoke from the buildings set on fire lend a\nmore awesome aspect to the picture depicted.\n\nThe observers at the mining-station are nervous with the suppressed\nexcitement within them. The ships of the enemy plot on their chart only\neight hundred yards away from their mines. Will it be their fortune to\ndecide the fate of the Golden City? The ships still advance. Soon they\nwill be over the mines. A pressure of the key under the hand will\ndischarge tons of the hidden explosive.\n\nBut the enemy has stopped. What does this foretell? Five hundred yards\nfrom the mines the ships are nearly motionless in the troubled sea\nlashed to foam by the ploughing of so much steel.\n\nAll the batteries are now doing splendid work. Explosion follows\nexplosion on board the intruding ships. Two cruisers are unmanageable\nand on fire; they drift onto the rocks almost within a stone's throw of\none of the batteries. Suddenly torpedoes shoot from the bow tubes of the\nleading ships, and a few moments afterward tremendous columns of water\nare seen to rise from the bay, and the next second the sound of a mighty\ndischarge reaches the expectant ears of the defenders of the Gate. The\nofficer at the mining-key knows from the spark that jumps across under\nhis hand that the enemy has countermined and the harbor is clear. The\nstruggle has come to such close quarters that the rapid-fire and machine\ngun fire lends its sharp cracking report to the dull roar of the heavy\nguns.\n\nBut the foe has stopped too long! The mortar battery on Lobos has gotten\nhis range. Suddenly with a whir a column of smoke rises in the air just\nover the bay, and a bunch of 16-inch mortar shells falls upon the\nbattle-ships' unprotected decks. One shell strikes over the boilers of\none of the ships, penetrating them a second later, the explosion of\nwhich rends her asunder; and where this powerful steel-clad had been but\na moment before is but the hissing foam of troubled waters.\n\nThe General sees the fight has now reached the critical point; the\ncruisers have dashed ahead and will soon be within the harbor. Many of\nthe batteries have been put out of action by the well-aimed shots of the\nenemy. The navy is needed, but the telephone connection with the station\nhas been severed; the signal has not been made. Time is precious. A few\nminutes more, and the whole fleet will be within the bay of San\nFrancisco, and, without the batteries, will be more than a match for the\nfew United States ships.\n\n[Illustration: HE SEES THE FAMOUS \"OREGON\" COME RUSHING DOWN TO THE\nFIGHT.]\n\nAn exclamation involuntarily escapes from the General's lips as he sees\nthe famous _Oregon_ emerge from behind Alcatraz Island, and come rushing\ndown to the fight.\n\nThe small fleet was thought too valuable to hazard against such as the\nenemy brought. The plan was not to expose it till the signal was made.\nBut the Admiral, behind Alcatraz Island, has been pacing up and down the\ndeck of his battle-ship, tugging at the restraining bonds, growing more\nand more impatient as the cannonading has become more furious. The crews\nof the ships feel the inactivity keenly; anything is better than this\nsuspense. Why does not the signal come? The Admiral will wait no longer,\nbut slips his moorings, regardless of consequences, and appears in the\nnick of time with his fleet to bar the entrance to the bay.\n\n[Illustration: \"PREPARE TO RAM.\"]\n\nThe _Oregon_, _Monterey_, and _Monadnock_ engage the two remaining\nbattle-ships. There is no sea-room for manoeuvring, and the rapid way\nin which the Yankee guns are served shows that they are more than a\nmatch for their huge enemies. The cruisers have closed in for the\ndeath-struggle; every weapon of modern warfare is being employed; two\nships of the foe and one of his opponent's have been torpedoed, and in\nanother moment one of ours rams their biggest battle-ship. The General\non shore can almost hear the command, \"Prepare to ram.\" It is so quickly\nand skilfully executed. The forts have now become inactive, fearing to\nfire lest by chance one of their own ships might be struck.\n\n[Illustration: ANOTHER IS FORCED TO STRIKE THE WHITE FLAG.]\n\nThe enemy suddenly begins to retreat, leaving two of his ships on the\nrocks, while another is forced to strike the white flag.\n\nNight has come on. The sun has an hour ago gone below the western\nhorizon. The evening fog-bank comes in and mingles with the battle smoke\nabout the silent batteries, which only a short time before were the\nscene of bloodshed and war. The brave defenders may sleep in peace in\ntheir blankets and hammocks. The pride of the enemy has been humbled,\nand the beautiful city of San Francisco is safe from torch and shell.\n\n\n\n\nSHARK-CATCHING IN MID-OCEAN.\n\nBY A. J. KENEALY.\n\n\nThe _Rajah_ made good progress south, the northeast trades blowing her\nthither swiftly. We were fast approaching the belt of calms, squalls,\nrain, and variable winds known to sailors as the \"doldrums.\"\n\nThe skipper had four coops of fat ducks which he tended with loving\ncare. He just doted on them stuffed with sage and onions, and while they\nwere being roasted he used to hang about the galley enjoying the savory\nodors that escaped from the oven. One morning while it was raining as\nthough the gates of heaven had been opened wide the Captain thought he\nwould give his pets a treat. The ship was heeling over considerably,\nbeing close-hauled on the starboard tack, with all her flying kites\ndowsed to the puffy breeze. He ordered the lee scuppers to be plugged\nup, and as soon as a sufficiently large pool had collected on deck, he\nliberated the ducks so that they might enjoy the luxury of a fresh-water\nbath. The ducks were delighted, and demonstrated their joy by noisy\nquacks. The pigs in the pens forward responded with joyous squeaks. The\ncocks and hens in the long-boat joined in with a merry chorus of crows\nand cackles. The combined music was that of a barn-yard.\n\n[Illustration: AWAY WENT A DOZEN OF THE DUCKS INTO THE SEA.]\n\nThe ship heeled over until the scuppers were awash. The weight of all\nthe fresh water on deck as the ship inclined to the squall and rose on\nthe next wave was thrown against a lee port aft near which the ducks\nwere disporting themselves. Now it happened that the lashing of this\nport was only of spun-yarn, rotten at that. The wash of the water\nagainst the port parted the lashing, swung the port wide open, and away\nwent a dozen of the ducks into the sea with a great whir of wings and\nclamorous cackling.\n\nOne of the sailors closed and secured the port before any more of the\nbirds escaped. Then the rest of the watch came aft, running\nhelter-skelter at the hurried hail of the mate, and drove the rest of\nthe flock into their pen. Had there been the slightest chance of\ncapturing the runaways the Captain would have backed the main-topsail,\nhove the ship to, and lowered the quarter-boat.\n\nMeanwhile the wind had died out. The sails flapped lazily against the\nmast, and the ship rolled sluggishly on the heaving bosom of old ocean.\nThe clouds rolled away, and the pitiless burning sun shone down on the\ndeck and dried up all the moisture on wood and rope in a few minutes. It\nwas one of those sudden meteorological changes so common in equatorial\nlatitudes. An awning was rigged up over the man at the wheel. The\nskipper put on a huge _topee_, or Indian pith helmet, to shelter his\nhead from the sweltering rays which made the pitch boil and bubble up in\nthe seams of the main-deck, and promised plenty of work for the\ncarpenter's calking-irons.\n\nThe ducks, obeying a sort of homing instinct, I suppose, swam up to the\nnow almost motionless ship, and continued their sport nearly within a\nstone's throw. Suddenly a bright idea struck the skipper.\n\n\"See the lee quarter-boat clear for lowering!\" he shouted to the second\nmate. Then he put his head down the cabin skylight and ordered the\nsteward to bring up his breech-loader and a lot of cartridges. The boat\nwas lowered and manned. A side ladder was rigged; the Captain with his\ngun descended and took up a position in the bow, from which he directed\noperations. The cockswain seized the tiller-ropes. \"Shove off let fall\ngive way!\" he cried, all in one breath, without any regard to\npunctuation, so excited was he, and in such a hurry to get within\ngunshot of the ducks. If he could not catch them alive, he meant to have\nthem dead.\n\nThe boat was headed for the flock. When within easy range the skipper\nlet them have it right and left. His aim was so good that he brought\ndown three. It took some time to pick them up, which gave the scared\nflock an opportunity to get out of gunshot. None others, as it happened,\nwere fated to fall victims to the deadly breech-loader of our\nsportsman-skipper. The dorsal fins of six sharks were observed sticking\nup above the surface of the water, and converging from different\ndirections on the doomed ducks. Sharks are abundant in equatorial\nwaters, and they follow ships for miles. Some of them are very large.\nAll are voracious and ugly customers to tackle.\n\nThe way those sharks gobbled up those ducks was a sight to behold. They\nwere disposed of in three minutes. The Captain was terribly angry. He\ntried to revenge himself by peppering the sharks with shot, but it is\ndoubtful if the leaden pellets made the slightest impression on their\ntough hides, even if he succeeded in hitting them.\n\nThe boat pulled back to the ship, and was hoisted to the davits. The\ncalm continued. Four of the sharks came up alongside, eager for more\nducks. Such appetizing fare was seldom theirs. Stray garbage from\npassing ships, flotsam from the forecastle, composed the diet upon which\nthey usually depended in addition to their steady prey of fish. The\nCaptain brooded over the loss of his ducks for some time. Then he made\nup his mind to have a little shark-fishing, and thus combine revenge and\nrecreation.\n\nHe sent below for a brand-new shark-hook with a sharp and cruel barb. To\nthe ring of the hook was attached a stout chain a fathom long. A shark's\nteeth are so sharp and strong that they can bite through the stoutest\nrope with singular ease. To the end of the chain the skipper bent on a\ntwo-and-a-half-inch manilla line, and having impaled a four-pound piece\nof pork on the hook, hove it overboard, with the remark that he intended\nto have a slice of fresh shark for supper.\n\nThe sharks were playing about the rudder on the lookout for any stray\ntrifles that might come along their way from a sailor down to a beef\nbone. They are not at all fastidious or dainty. It was my first\nexperience of shark-fishing, and I was a keen and interested observer.\nThe water was so clear that I could watch every motion of the four\nmonsters as they swam slowly about, each one attended by his own\nparticular body-guard of pilot-fish--pretty little creatures shaped\nsomething like perch, with blue vertical stripes. Ichthyologists declare\nthat these fish attend the shark for the purpose of preying upon the\nparasites that infest him. This may be a true explanation, but I cannot\nunderstand how it is that a hungry deep-sea shark, that will snap up\nanything living or dead, permits these plump little fish to play\nunscathed about his enormous jaws. There are other curious things about\nthese pilot-fish that naturalists cannot explain. They only attach\nthemselves to the pelagic species found in deep water; there are always\nfive or seven of them to each shark, never an even number; they stick to\nthe shark while he is floundering about in the water with a hook through\nhis jaws, but as soon as he is hoisted above the surface of the sea they\nimmediately disappear. Nobody knows what becomes of them.\n\nI have had several good opportunities of studying the habits of sharks,\nand have always been curious about them. As a matter of fact, very\nlittle is known concerning the ocean variety, which is quite distinct\nfrom that of the shore.\n\nNo sooner had the pork plashed into the sea than one of the rapacious\nmonsters made a rush for it. The remarkable velocity of this fish was\nsurprising to me, who had never before seen a deep-sea shark in his\nnative element. The water was so beautifully limpid that his every\naction could be accurately observed. I thought he would gorge the bait\nimmediately, but he did not. When he came up with it, he made a sudden\nstop. Then he sniffed at it with an air of expectant and suspicious\ncuriosity. The next thing he did was to turn his tail to it\ncontemptuously, and swim away a considerable distance.\n\n[Illustration: \"WATCH HIM MAKE A DART FOR IT NOW,\" SAID THE SKIPPER.]\n\n\"Watch him make a dart for it now,\" said the skipper, who was an old\nhand at shark-catching.\n\nLike a flash the hungry fish went for the tempting bait, turning over so\nthat he might grasp it more conveniently with his wide and cruel jaws.\nIn an instant it was engulfed in his maw. And then there was such a\nfloundering and threshing in the water as I had never before seen. The\nfierce shark, maddened with the pain of the sharp hook, made frantic but\nfruitless efforts to escape. He snapped savagely at the strong chain\nattached to the hook, with the sole result of damaging his own\ncruel-looking teeth. Meanwhile the fish had been dragged forward to the\nstarboard gangway in spite of his wild struggles. A running bowline was\nsent down the line that held him, and as the shark was hoisted over the\nside it was passed over his body and hauled taut round his tail, in\norder to control the movements of this his most formidable weapon.\nInstances have been known of a blow from a shark's tail breaking a man's\nleg on the deck of a vessel immediately after being hauled in over the\nside.\n\nThis fish in question was gigantic. It took eight men to hoist him\nin-board. \"Chips,\" the carpenter, stood by with a keen axe, and as soon\nas Mr. Shark's struggling carcass was landed on the deck, with one\npowerful blow he severed his tail from his body, and thus incapacitated\nhim from mischief. From time immemorial it has been the ship carpenter's\nprivilege and duty to out off the tails of all sharks captured during a\ndeep-sea voyage, and the cook generally despatches him much after the\nfashion of a Japanese when he performs on himself the queer right of\nhari-kari.\n\n\"Chips,\" said the skipper, addressing the carpenter, \"before you cut\nthat shark up, just pull that rule out of your pocket and measure him.\nHe seems quite a big fellow.\"\n\nAnd a big fellow he proved to be, measuring 30 feet 8-1/2 inches long.\nThe Captain said he was the largest one he had ever seen, but the chief\nmate declared he had once captured one that measured 38 feet, and he had\nsailed with a skipper who had hauled one in-board that was fully 40 feet\nin length. As a matter of fact, specimens of pelagic sharks are\ndisplayed in museums that exceed 40 feet, but they are very rare. In\nFlorida varieties of fossil sharks have been dug up whose length \"over\nall\" averages more than 50 feet, but these are now happily extinct.\n\nSeafaring men are not as a rule a bloodthirsty race, but they look upon\nsharks as their natural enemies, and against them they wage relentless\nwarfare; and whenever one is hooked they rejoice with an exuberant\npleasure, and will sacrifice their watch below in order to see him cut\nand carved. There is also much curiosity with regard to the contents of\nhis interior. I once had for a shipmate a man who swore hard and fast\nthat he once found in a shark a ship's chronometer that was still\nticking. He was quite a truthful man too, but somehow I never believed\nthat yarn. Of course a shark is one of the most ravenous and rapacious\nof fishes, and queer articles have undoubtedly been discovered in their\nstomachs.\n\nInside the one just caught there were two of the Captain's ducks, and\nnot a morsel of anything else, which probably accounted for the greed\nwith which he swallowed the four-pound chunk of briny pork. It is a\ntradition among sailors that sharks will not bite at a piece of beef,\nand I never heard of one being hooked with any bovine bait. In this the\nshark shows excellent taste and judgment, for the \"salt junk\" served out\nto seafarers is by no means a succulent or dainty dish. As a matter of\nfact, I have known a sailor to whittle out of it a fair model of the\nhull of a ship, and to dry it in the sun for two or three weeks, when it\nwould come out for all the world as hard as a block of mahogany, which\nit resembled--and this too after the beef had been boiled for hours in\nthe cook's coppers!\n\nThe Captain ordered the cook to cut off the fins and prepare them for\nhis own particular use after the Chinese fashion, the almond-eyed\nCelestials esteeming them as an especial dainty. Then he carved two long\ncutlets from the back, which he also ordered to be cooked for his\nsupper. The rest of the huge carcass he surrendered to the crew. The\nboatswain cut out the heart of the shark, which was still palpitating,\nand placed it in a tin dish. He told me it would continue to beat till\nsundown, when it would suddenly become motionless. I did not believe\nhim, and told him so, but he prophesied truly. I watched that throbbing\nheart pretty closely for several hours. It beat firmly and regularly\nuntil the upper rim of the sun disappeared beneath the western horizon.\nThen it made a sudden stop, and became limp and pulseless. This may seem\na yarn fit only to tell to the marines, but it is gospel truth on the\nword of a sailor. I have told the story to scientific men, but they have\npooh-poohed at it, and declared it to have been impossible. But then it\nwas not to be supposed that they would know anything about sharks,\nhaving got all their knowledge from musty books instead of from the sea\nitself. Old sailors who have crossed the line will, however, corroborate\nme as to this phenomenon.\n\nThe carpenter claimed the backbone, which he fashioned into a quite\nhandsome walking-stick by impaling the finest sections of the spine on a\nslender bar of steel. And I may as well tell you that the \"shark\nwalking-canes\" so frequently offered in South Street by impostors\ndisguised as hardy mariners are as a rule made of sections of ox tails,\nprepared in a very cunning manner, and well calculated to deceive the\ninexperienced.\n\nThe Captain gave me the jaws, which were immense. I boiled them all\nnight in a big kettle until all the flesh fell off them and they shone\nlike ivory. I preserved them for many years as a souvenir of my first\ndeep-sea voyage and of the first shark I had seen hooked.\n\nThe tail was nailed in triumph to the end of the flying jib-boom,\nreplacing one of much smaller dimensions that had long braved both wind\nand weather. Sailors think that a shark's tail at the extreme end of a\nship's \"nose-pole\" is the harbinger of good luck. While these things\nwere being done the rest of the shark's carcass was thrown overboard for\nhis mates to gorge upon. The only people aboard the _Rajah_ that ate\nshark for supper that night were the Captain and the spinner of this\nyarn. The skipper feasted on the fins, followed by a big dish of\ncutlets. Of the last named delicacy I partook very sparingly, I warrant\nyou, being actuated less by appetite than by curiosity. Not being an\naccomplished ichthyophagist like my Captain, I am forced to confess that\nI found his flesh to be not only flavorless but coarse.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]\n\n\nIt is an excellent thing for young men to be eager and enthusiastic in\ntheir pursuit of sport, but they should never allow their eagerness and\nenthusiasm to get the better of them. In a hotly contested game it is\nsometimes impossible for spectators to retain that composure which lends\ndignity to the Supreme Court, but, on the other hand, we should never\nallow our partisanship to carry us beyond the bounds of good behavior. I\ndon't want to preach a sermon here on the etiquette of sport, because I\nam fully aware that my readers know just as much about the subject as I\ndo; I merely want to urge them now to act on the grand stand, or along\nthe ropes, or in the field itself just as in calmer moments they know\nthey ought to act, and feel confident that they will.\n\nIn looking over a bundle of school papers the other day, I came across\nan editorial which started me to thinking about the behavior of\nspectators and players at school games, and I want to quote a portion of\nit. It does not matter what particular schools are under discussion, and\nso I have eliminated their names from the paragraph, substituting A and\nB, but otherwise the quotation is taken word for word. I did not write\nit myself.\n\n     There is one thing that we must condemn, and condemn very\n     strongly, too, and that is the ungentlemanly conduct on the part\n     of our boys, in jeering their opponents and trying to rattle their\n     contestants. It is true that the \"A\" School started this, but this\n     is no excuse for the boys to so far forget themselves and their\n     school, and act like anything but gentlemen. The boys feel\n     somewhat justified in the act, in that they did not begin jeering\n     for quite a while after the \"A\" School had started, but at no time\n     and for no cause are they excusable for forgetting that they are\n     gentlemen. But to cap all this, a free fight was engaged in after\n     the field day on some trivial cause. The less said about this the\n     better, but we very strongly condemn the conduct of both the \"B\"\n     and \"A\" schools in the field day on Saturday.\n\nThe occurrences referred to above took place at a track-athletic\nmeeting, but they might just as well have happened at a football or a\nbaseball game. The two schools are rivals in sport, and the single aim\nof each is to defeat the other. This spirit is commendable and should be\nencouraged, and I know of no one who will yell louder and longer for his\nown side than I will. But when it comes to jeering, we must draw the\nline. It is unsportsmanlike, and that means that it is ungentlemanly,\ncowardly, and indecent. We go into sport in order that the best man may\nwin, and if the best man is on the other side, this may be a\ndisappointment, but it is never a disgrace. If we start in to jeer at\nthe best man's efforts we are openly trying to prevent him from winning,\nwhich is conduct directly opposite to the motives that led us to\nencourage the competition. It is as cowardly to jeer at an opponent as\nit is to adopt unfair means to defeat him: and any act calculated and\nintended to injure the chances of an antagonist is unsportsmanlike.\n\nAs to the particular case mentioned in the editorial, I can make no\ncomment beyond what has already been said, except that fighting after a\nfriendly contest is wholly irreconcilable to sport. I don't know, of\ncourse, whether there was an actual fight or not. The editor may have\nexaggerated; let us hope that he did. But to allow one's feelings to get\nthe upper hand in sport is always a sign of weakness, and persons of\nsuch weak character as not to be able to restrain their passions should\nnot indulge in sport. They do not belong among sportsmen.\n\nThere is nothing better than athletic contests to develop character and\nto teach a man to restrain himself. Aside from all ethics in the matter,\nand looking at the case purely from the point of view of securing\nadvantage, it is better to be able to master one's passions and\nfeelings. The man who loses his temper on the football field, and begins\nto \"slug\" his opponent, or to adopt mean methods of play, invariably\nweakens his own efforts, because he is giving more thought to his spite\nthan he is to his game. Of two teams absolutely evenly matched in every\nphysical respect, the team whose members keep cool and collected, and do\nnot lose their tempers, is bound to win every time. It is so in\neverything; in business the same as in sport. Therefore, let me repeat\nthat whereas enthusiasm and eagerness cannot be too highly commended,\nany display of ill-feeling or displeasure in sport cannot be too\nseverely condemned.\n\nAt a number of schools it is the custom to allow instructors to play on\nthe football and baseball teams, and these instructors frequently go\ninto match games against other school teams. Such a system, of course,\nis bad; but it is fortunate that it is not countenanced at those\ninstitutions which hold a prominent place in the interscholastic world.\nIt is mostly at small private schools that the teachers play, but the\nprinciple is the same. In the first place, a man who is old enough to be\na professor is too old to play against boys. He outclasses them in\nexperience and in strength, and it is unfair to pit such a player\nagainst a young athlete who has gone into sport for the sake of trying\nhis skill against his equals. It is also discouraging to any team of\nyoung men to have to face opponents among whom there may be one or more\ncollege graduates. The mere presence of an older man on a boys' team\nserves to overawe the other side.\n\nA Captain is perfectly justified in refusing to play against any school\nteam that puts an instructor or professional trainer into the field with\nthe school players. In fact, I should strongly urge every Captain of a\nschool team to refuse to arrange games with any institution where the\nprofessor habit prevails, and to retire from any contest in which the\nopponents propose to play an older man. A few years ago there was a\nschool team in Pennsylvania that won most of its baseball games simply\nbecause the pitcher was so much superior to any school pitcher the team\never met, and so much better an all-round player than any school-boy\ncould be, that their opponents had no chance. That was not sport. There\nwas no glory in those victories. The school team did not win. It was the\nprofessor against the field. He was a graduate of Williams College, I\nthink, and had been the crack pitcher of his year among college baseball\nteams. But I think that he no longer performs for that school, and I\nbelieve that the boys there have a truer appreciation of the ethics of\nsport now, and fight their own battles on the diamond and on the\ngridiron.\n\nIt is all very proper for instructors who were athletes in college to\ngive the scholars at the school they teach in the benefit of their\nexperience by coaching the players, and even by going out on the field\nand playing against the first school team. But they should always play\nagainst the team, not with it, except for the purpose of demonstrating a\nplay. By coaching the school players they are doing much good for the\nschool team and for sport. But by joining the school players in games\nagainst other schools they do injury both to the players and to the\ncause of sport.\n\nThe absurd reports which appeared in some of the New York daily papers\nconcerning the injury received by Captain Mynderse, of the Betts Academy\nteam, in the recent game against the Berkeley School eleven, only serve\nto corroborate the statements made by this Department two weeks ago.\nFortunately Mr. Ely, the coach of the Berkeley team, came out promptly\nwith a statement to the effect that the boy was not at all seriously\ninjured, and that he returned to his school the next day with his\ncompanion players, and was not, as reported, laid up in the hospital in\na critical condition. In closing, Mr. Ely remarks: \"Any team of\nschool-boys who are properly looked after and cared for while playing\nthe game, and who are physically fit to play it, need have no fear of\ndoing so, nor need their parents have any fear that their sons will be\npermanently injured or incapacitated from pursuing a collegiate or\nbusiness career from injurious effects sustained upon the football\nfield.\" Mr. Ely is perfectly right; and let me add that boys who are not\nproperly looked after while playing the game, or who are not physically\nfit to play it, should not be allowed on the field.\n\nThe most promising eleven in the New York League, up to date, is the\nBerkeley School team. Bayne has been made Captain instead of\nIrwin-Martin, and he will, no doubt, put more life and snap into his\nmen. The change is a good one, for Martin is a good deal of a back\nnumber in scholastic athletics, and has thoroughly outgrown the class of\nplayers who properly belong on school teams. The protests against him on\nthe score of age will probably again this year pop up with persistent\nregularity in the meetings of the I.S.A.A. Martin ought to get a\ncertified copy of his birth certificate from the Bureau of Vital\nStatistics, and settle this disputed question once for all.\n\nThe league games began last week, and the schedule is divided into two\nsections, as the baseball schedule was:\n\nFIRST SECTION.\n\n     Oct. 22.--Cutler School vs. Hamilton Institute.\n\n     Oct. 29.--Trinity School vs. Columbia Grammar School.\n\n     Nov. 5.--Hamilton Institute vs. Trinity School.\n\n     Nov. 12.--Cutler School vs. Columbia Grammar School.\n\n     Nov. 19.--Cutler School vs. Trinity School.\n\n     Nov. 22.--Hamilton Institute vs. Columbia Grammar School.\n\n\nSECOND SECTION.\n\n     Oct. 25.--Barnard School vs. De La Salle Institute.\n\n     Nov. 1.--Barnard School vs. Berkeley School.\n\n     Nov. 8.--Berkeley School vs. De La Salle Institute.\n\n     Nov. 29.--Championship game, winner first section vs. winner\n     second section.\n\nShould there be a tie, the deciding game will be played on November 26th\nat the Berkeley Oval, where all the championship matches are to be held.\n\nThe Brooklyn series began almost a week earlier than the New York games,\nand will be continued in this order:\n\n     Oct. 16.--Adelphi Academy vs. Bryant & Stratton.\n\n     Oct. 19.--Adelphi Academy vs. Pratt Institute; St. Paul's School\n     vs. Bryant & Stratton.\n\n     Oct. 22.--\"Poly Prep.\" vs. Bryant & Stratton; Boys' High-School\n     vs. Bryant & Stratton.\n\n     Oct. 26.--Brooklyn Latin School vs. Bryant & Stratton; \"Poly\n     Prep.\" vs. Pratt Institute.\n\n     Nov. 2.--Pratt Institute vs. Boys' High-School; St. Paul's School\n     vs. Adelphi Academy.\n\n     Nov. 5.--Brooklyn Latin School vs. Boys' High-School; St. Paul's\n     School vs. \"Poly Prep.\"\n\n     Nov. 9.--St. Paul's School vs. Pratt Institute.\n\n     Nov. 13.--\"Poly Prep.\" vs. Boys' High-School.\n\n     Nov. 16.--St. Paul's School vs. Boys' High-School; Pratt Institute\n     vs. Brooklyn Latin School.\n\n     Nov. 20.--\"Poly Prep.\" vs. Boys' High-School; Brooklyn Latin\n     School vs. Adelphi Academy.\n\n     Nov. 23.--Brooklyn Latin School vs. St. Paul's School.\n\n     Nov. 26.--\"Poly Prep.\" vs. Adelphi Academy.\n\nThe game between Lawrenceville and the Princeton 'Varsity showed\nconsiderable improvement on the part of the school team; but it also\nemphasized the fact that the end players are still weak, and that both\nquarter and full back can be materially strengthened. On the whole, the\nplaying was sharp, and the work of the team as a unit showed that it was\nmade up of good stuff that will, no doubt, be moulded into shape by the\ntime of the Andover game. The tackling and breaking into Princeton's\ninterference were good, but the men were slow at the start off. Their\nown interference did not form in time, and as yet the defensive work is\nfar inferior to that of last year's eleven.\n\n[Illustration: Crane, r. e. Cheney, h.-b. Eliason, h.-b. Ellsworth,\nh.-b.\nCook, r. t. Babcock, m'gr. Reiland, l. g. Warner, f.-b. Savage, l. e.\nBrown, r. g. McKelvey, q.-b., Capt. Hixon, c. McCormick, l. t.\n\nTHE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL FOOTBALL ELEVEN.]\n\nAt the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, the outlook for football is good,\nnotwithstanding the loss of such men as Cheney, Conner, Sheldon,\nSpencer, Gray, and Wells. Many players who were raw last year are\ndeveloping well, and some good new men have come in. The line is heavier\nthan last year, and will be better, but the ends and backs are light,\naveraging perhaps 140 pounds. Hixon, centre, plays a strong and steady\ngame, and may always be depended on. Reiland, left guard, though he puts\nup a stiff game, is apt to lose his side much ground by off-side plays.\nBrown, right guard, makes good holes and breaks through well, but runs\npoorly with the ball. McCormick, left-tackle, is playing well, and runs\nwith the ball with force, but is inclined to be overconfident, does not\nfollow the ball closely, and is consequently out of many plays. Cook,\nright tackle, is playing hard, but has much to learn. Crane, right end,\nalthough very light, tackles well but is apt to be blocked off by the\ninterference. Savage, left end, breaks up the interference well, but is\na little weak in tackling.\n\nMcKelvey, at quarter-back, makes an excellent Captain, passes\naccurately, and shows good judgment in the generalship of his team.\nWarner, half and full, hits the line well, and plays a strong defensive\ngame. Ellsworth, left half, runs around the ends well, but is weak in\ntackling. Warner must learn to punt better in order to hold his position\nat full back. At present the team plays a better offensive than\ndefensive game. In offense the line-men block well and make good holes,\nbut in the defense they do not break through quickly enough, and do not\nfollow the ball as well as they should.\n\nAs the season advances and the teams of the Connecticut League get into\nform, the struggle for the championship seems to be narrowing down to a\nclose fight between Hartford High-School and Hillhouse High of New\nHaven, with the chances slightly in favor of the former. Hartford played\na strong game a week ago against the Yale Freshmen.\n\n  THE GRADUATE.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]\n\n     This Department is conducted in the Interest of Girls and Young\n     Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on\n     the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address\n     Editor.\n\n\nGwendoline writes that she wishes to know the secret of being popular.\n\"I'd like to be a popular girl,\" she says, \"a girl beloved by\neverybody.\"\n\nThis is a natural wish, and in itself not wrong. There is a temptation\nto wrong in it if the desire be carried so far that, in order to become\npopular, the girl sacrifices valuable qualities of character, as, for\ninstance, independence of judgment and sincerity.\n\nBut there is no need of this. The girl who chooses to be popular needs\nfirst to be unselfish. She must not consider her own ends first nor\nchiefly. The atmosphere enfolding her must be that of love and kindness.\nYou know how some girls always try to have the best things, the best\nplaces, the pleasant things, while they do not try to pass the good\ntimes along to others. These are not popular girls. Nobody can be fond\nof a selfish person.\n\nAgain, a really popular person must have courage. Courage enough to be a\nleader. There are only a few leaders in any city, or school, or other\ncorner of the world. Most people are followers. I heard of a leader this\nmorning. She went to a boarding-school a long way off from home. Among\nthe teachers there was a little shy Miss Somebody whom the girls did not\nlike. They made fun of her prim manner and her queer tow-colored hair,\nand a sort of mincing walk the poor lady had, and they did not see that\nshe was really a very learned woman who could teach them a great deal if\nthey would attend to her. Maria Matilda observed the state of affairs,\nand decided that it was unjust, so she championed the little teacher.\nShe sent flowers to her desk. She listened respectfully when Miss\nDiffidence was in the preceptor's chair. She began to be very fond of\nher, and discovered that Miss Diffidence was really a dear, only\nfrightened out of her wits, among a crowd of unfeeling girls. Before\nlong Maria Matilda changed the whole situation, and, she being a born\nleader, the rest followed her willingly. I need not add that Maria\nMatilda is popular, _very_ popular.\n\nAnother requisite for the popular girl is _savoir-faire_; she must know\nhow to do things. Any one of us can have this power. It is a mere affair\nof paying attention, of will, and of considering it worth while to be\nable easily, in whatever place you are, to do the right thing, in the\nright way, at the right time.\n\nCharm of speech, charm of look, charm of manner belong to the popular\ngirl. Do you know how she acquires charm? By simply being genuinely\ninterested in those about her. When she talks to you she looks you in\nthe face. She has nothing to conceal. When you look at her, you see a\ngood heart shining in her eyes.\n\nNow that I have said all this, I must add that you would far better be\nunpopular your whole life through, than to make a study of the thing\nmerely for the sake of ambition or vanity. He that saveth his life shall\nlose it, says the best of Books, which means that one who does anything\nfor purely selfish--which are always purely low--motives, will in the\nend be sadly disappointed.\n\n[Illustration: Signature]\n\n\n\n\nMONEY FOR TOADS.\n\n\nIt is said that boys living in and about San Diego, California, are\nmaking money catching horned toads for the Hawaiian government, which is\nsaid to be importing them to destroy an insect which is ruining many\ncrops in the island. The government want 5000 toads, and is paying the\nboys $1 a dozen for them.\n\n\n\n\nHOW TOD GOT INTO THE HALLOWEEN GAMES.\n\n\nTod Forrest was one of those kind of boys that, when asked to exhibit\nthe contents of his pockets, could produce the oddest lot of trash.\n\nHe stood one afternoon lazily hanging on to a split rail fence, gazing\nidly over the fields at a distant wood. \"Well,\" he muttered, \"I reckon\nI've got to gather some of those 'ere nuts, after all. Let me see.\n'Holly eve' comes to-morrow, and the boys won't let me in on the games\nunless I do, so here goes.\"\n\nHeaving a sigh, he climbed over the fence and made for the woods. He\npenetrated deeper among the trees than usual, and after going some\ndistance he found himself on higher ground and in a new spot. A large\nchestnut-tree thick with burs stood near the centre of a small knoll. It\nwas the work of a few minutes, and he was safely perched in a fork of\nthe branches, breaking open the burs with his knife and filling his\npockets with the nuts. He had filled two of those capacious maws, when\nhe was startled by a deep growl. There beneath him, nosing around among\nthe empty burs, was a good-sized bear. It frightened him so that he\nnearly lost his seat.\n\nTod could always find the humorous side of things, however, and it\nseemed that one of the burs he had thrown down had lighted on the bear's\nnose and stuck there, tickling him.\n\nIt made the bear snort and growl in the most ludicrous fashion. This was\na short-lived matter, for through an incautious giggle on Tod's part the\nanimal discovered him, and started for the foot of the tree. Now a bear\ncan climb a tree about as good as any one, and Tod knew it, but lazy as\nTod was, he had a mind for emergencies, and seizing a handful of\nchestnuts, he threw them at the bear. This second interruption attracted\nthe animal's attention, and he began devouring the nuts, evidently\nsomething he was exceedingly fond of. After that to keep the bear out of\nthe tree Tod was obliged to throw down handful after handful of\nchestnuts, the meanwhile despairing of his situation. He searched his\npockets, and, lucky thought, there among the trash were two small rifle\ncartridges.\n\nSelecting two of the largest nuts, he bored a hole in them and inserted\nthe cartridges. Waiting until the bear had finished his last handful and\nstood greedily eying him, he gently threw the loaded nuts to the ground.\nAnxiously he watched as the bear nosed around in search of them. In a\nfew moments one of them was found, but before the greedy animal munched\non it he secured the other. Now it was funny, but the bear seemingly\nwanted to tantalize Tod, and lifting his head, stood looking at him\nwithout attempting to chew the loaded chestnuts. Tod was scared, and\ntears came into his eyes. The bear made one or two steps towards the\ntree, and then hesitating, sat back on his haunches, with his eyes on\nTod, and commenced chewing.\n\nSuddenly a very comical look of surprise came over that bear's face, and\nalmost instantly an explosion took place. Tod claims that the bear\njumped six feet into the air, and when he fell back on the ground again\nhe never waited an instant to learn what happened him, but scampered off\nin the funniest lumbering fashion. Tod waited till he thought it was\nsafe, and climbing down, made tracks for home. The boys let him in at\nthe games on Halloween to hear him tell his story again, as they had by\nthat time substantiated it by the blood tracks of the bear.\n\n  HUBERT EARL.\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENTS.\n\n\n\n\nHighest of all in Leavening Strength.--Latest U. S. Gov't Report.\n\n[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE\nWATER]\n\n\n\n\n=CARDS FOR 1896.= 50 Sample Styles AND LIST OF 400 PREMIUM ARTICLES\nFREE. HAVERFIELD CO., Cadiz, Ohio.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BICYCLING.]\n\n     Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our\n     maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly supplied from the\n     official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen.\n     Recognizing the value of the work being done by the L. A. W. the\n     Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with membership\n     blanks and information so far as possible.\n\n\n[Illustration: Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.]\n\nThe map this week is of Boston and its vicinity, and the reader in using\nit on the road must remember that a great many streets in the city have\nbeen omitted here, and in many places it is impossible to put the names\nof streets, owing to the necessity for covering so much ground on a\nsmall map. Every macadamized or asphalted street is, however,\nrepresented on the map. The object in publishing this map is not so much\nto tell a rider how to get about in the city, _i.e._, in \"old Boston,\"\nas to give him an idea of what roads to take in order to reach certain\nsuburbs and to follow certain bicycle routes which we intend giving in\nthe Department in the next few weeks. The city of Boston is eminently\nsuited for bicycle riding owing to the beautiful parks which are either\nfinished or in course of preparation at the present moment. As a usual\nthing, the starting-point for a trip in the vicinity of Boston will be\nlaid at Copley Square, which is at the intersection of Boylston Street\nand Huntington Avenue. The best way for reaching any of the suburbs or\ntowns to north and west is to run through any street from Copley Square\nto Commonwealth Avenue, proceeding thence to Massachusetts Avenue,\nturning right and crossing the Harvard Bridge, thence proceeding through\nCambridge out North Avenue to Arlington, Medford, Malden, etc.\n\nTo reach Chestnut Hill, Brookline, or Brighton, Commonwealth Avenue\nshould be followed across Massachusetts Avenue to Beacon Street, thence\nout Beacon Street. Any of the suburbs further westward, such as Newton,\nWellesley, Jamaica Plain, etc., can be reached over one of the best\nroads that was ever made for bicycle riders, _i.e._, through the new\npark that has been built along the course of Stony Brook. To reach this\nyou proceed across Massachusetts Avenue on Commonwealth Avenue and turn\nleft into the Fenway, and follow what has been named \"The Fens\" by\nkeeping on any of the roads inside the park, such as the Riverway,\nJamaicaway, through Leverett Park, around Jamaica Pond, thence out\nthrough the Arnold Arboretum, and from there taking what direction is\ndesired on the country roads. This run through \"The Fens\" and Leverett\nPark, which in time will be extended from the Arboretum over to Franklin\nPark, and thence to South Boston, will make one of the pleasantest short\nafternoon bicycle rides in America. It will have the advantage of never\nbeing monotonous, because there are many variations to the route,\nallowing you to wind about in the park, cross different bridges, and\nleave or enter it at many different points.\n\nTo reach Milton, Dorchester, Quincy, etc., there are many routes, the\nshortest of which, though not perhaps the best, being to leave Copley\nSquare, to Commonwealth Avenue, to Massachusetts Avenue, turning to the\nleft and proceeding thence straight across Boston, out Massachusetts\nAvenue to Five Corners. From Five Corners the rider should turn to the\nright, proceeding by Boylston Street to Upham's Corner, thence by\nColumbia Street to Franklin Park, turning to the left on Blue Hill\nAvenue, whence he can either run to Hyde Park or Milton, or, turning\ninto Washington Street, and proceeding by Milton, to Quincy. Probably\nthe best road, though somewhat longer ride, is to run out over the\nFenway, Riverway, and Jamaicaway, across Franklin Park, and thence to\nMilton.\n\n     NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of\n     route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,\n     Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New\n     Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.\n     Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.\n     Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in\n     No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in\n     No. 820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No.\n     822. Philadelphia-Wiasahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to\n     West Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City--First\n     Stage in No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to\n     Vineland--First Stage in No. 827. Second Stage in No. 828. New\n     York to Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830;\n     Fourth Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in\n     No. 833. Boston to Concord, 834.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: STAMPS]\n\n     This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin\n     collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question\n     on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should\n     address Editor Stamp Department.\n\n\nPlate-number collecting is booming. The newest development is the issue\nof priced catalogues of the 1894 varieties, both with and without\nwater-marks. As yet no one has ventured to price any of the earlier\nissues, but the demand for them is already greater than the supply.\n\nA number of correspondents ask how many stamps are taken from each sheet\nin plate collecting. Usually three, and care must be taken that the\nstamps are not torn apart and that the margin is kept attached. The\nusual form of imprint on the sheets of the present issue is the\nfollowing:\n\n[Illustration: Bureau, Engraving & Printing. 149]\n\nSome collectors keep the imprints from top, bottom, left, and right\nsides, but most are content with one only. Plate No. 89 is the rarest of\nall so far.\n\nThe Pittsburg Library has set apart an alcove for philatelic literature.\nThe other American libraries will probably soon be obliged to do the\nsame.\n\n     F. SCHOENTHALER.--The U.S. silver dollar of 1800 is worth $2. The\n     trade dollar is worth bullion value only.\n\n     F. M. L.--The 1845 dime is worth 20c.\n\n     H. J. LEAKE.--Confederate bills are very common, and I therefore\n     advise their collection, as it is comparatively easy to get a very\n     large number by the expenditure of little money, and they are very\n     interesting to all Americans. The dimes of 1829 and 1823 are sold\n     by dealers at 25 cents each. Your half-dollar is worth face only.\n     Mexican coins are worth their weight in silver only.\n\n     GEORGE FRANCE, JUN.--The 5-cent U.S. Internal Revenue is the\n     ordinary kind, of which many millions were used. It is sold by\n     dealers at 2 cents.\n\n     C. E. A.--I cannot undertake to look over a large lot of common\n     stamps when a little study on your part would enable you to fairly\n     understand them yourself. It would not be fair to you. One of the\n     great merits in stamp-collecting is that it trains the eye as well\n     as the mind.\n\n     S. HALL.--I cannot advise you about joining the A.P.A. Personally\n     I am not a member.\n\n  PHILATUS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA GOOD CHILD\n\nis usually healthy, and both conditions are developed by use of proper\nfood. The Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is the best infant's\nfood; so easily prepared that improper feeding is inexcusable and\nunnecessary.--[_Adv._]\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENTS.\n\n\n\n\nSay, Boys!\n\nWe have been telling you about the\n\n\"Rugby\" Watches\n\nfor some time.\n\n=If you have not sent for the \"Rugby\" Catalogue, you are pretty late. It\nis your misfortune.=\n\nTurn over a new leaf and send at once. You will have your eyes opened\nwhen you see the beautiful designs on the cases. The catalogue tells all\nabout them.\n\nThe Waterbury Watch Co.,\nWaterbury, Conn.\n\n\n\n\nArnold\n\nConstable & Co\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Children's Wear.\n  Corsets,\n  Ladies' Silk Skirts,\n  Ladies' Underwear,\n  Children's School Dresses,\n  Misses' Coats and Dresses,\n  Children's Coats and Jackets,\n  Ladies' Wrappers and Tea Gowns,\n  Children's Frocks for Dancing-school.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBroadway & 19th st.\n\nNEW YORK.\n\n\n\n\nPostage Stamps, &c.\n\n\n\n\n=1000= Mixed Foreign Postage Stamps, including Fiji Islands, Samoa,\nHawaii, Hong Kong, for 34c. in stamps; 10 varieties U. S. Columbian\nstamps, 25c.; entire unused 5c. and 10c. Columbian Envelopes, 25c. the\npair. Only a limited number were issued by U. S. Government. E. F.\nGAMBS, Box 2631, San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1872.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=STAMPS!= =300= fine mixed Victoria. Cape of G. H., India, Japan, etc.,\nwith fine Stamp Album, only =10c.= New 80-p. Price-list =free=. _Agents\nwanted_ at =50%= commission. STANDARD STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place, St.\nLouis, Mo. Old U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n100 all dif. Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti,\nHawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts w't'd at 50% com. List FREE! =C. A.\nStegmann=, 5941 Cote Brilliante Ave., St. Louis, Mo.\n\n\n\n\n=500= Mixed Australian, etc., 10c.; =105 varieties=, and =nice= album,\n10c.; 15 unused, 10c.; 10 Africa, 10c.; 15 Asia, 10c. F. P. Vincent,\nChatham, N.Y.\n\n\n\n\n=FINE PACKETS= in large variety. Stamps at 50% com. Col's bought.\nNorthwestern Stamp Co., Freeport, Ill.\n\n\n\n\n=10 RARE STAMPS FREE.= Send 2c. stamp. =F. E. THORP, Norwich, N.Y.=\n\n\n\n\nSTAMPS\n\nApproval sheets at 50% com. Send at once.\n\nTHE OHIO STAMP CO., Carthage, Ohio.\n\n\n\n\nFREE\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAs a sample of our 1000 BARGAINS we will send FREE this elegant Fountain\nPen, warranted a perfect writer, and immense Illus. Bargain Catalogue,\nfor 10c. to cover postage, etc.\n\nR. H. INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 CORTLANDT ST., N. Y. CITY.\n\n\n\n\nHARPER'S PERIODICALS.\n\nPer Year:\n\n  HARPER'S MAGAZINE         _Postage Free_, $4.00\n  HARPER'S WEEKLY                 \"          4.00\n  HARPER'S BAZAR                  \"          4.00\n  HARPER'S ROUND TABLE            \"          2.00\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Booksellers and Postmasters usually receive subscriptions.\nSubscriptions sent direct to the publishers should be accompanied by\nPost-office Money Order or Draft._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHARPER & BROTHERS, New York, N.Y.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE\nWATER]\n\n\n\n\nChapter Programmes Again.\n\n\nOne of the chief reasons that juvenile clubs often disband for lack of\ninterest is because nothing is laid out for them to do. In the first\nplace, let it be said that those Chapters succeed best which adhere to\none or the other of the following policies:\n\n1, Choose some older person to direct everything, and then obey\nimplicitly the suggestions laid down by that older person; or, 2,\nResolve the Chapter into a committee of the whole. Let all have a voice.\nAgree upon a programme, and then follow it. The thing to be avoided most\nis the running of the Chapter by a few of its members.\n\nAfter the routine business have a subject for discussion. Select this\nsubject a long time in advance. Name some particular phase of it, and\nappoint one member to open and lead the discussion. Then have\nthree-minute talks, and urge each member to speak. Doing so is admirable\npractice. If others fail to get much from what is said, the speaker will\nhimself get a good deal, because he acquires the habit of thinking on\nhis feet.\n\nA good subject for a whole winter is American history. In order to have\na definite plan in its study take up the \"Federal Principle.\" That might\ndo for the opening evening. Tell the member who is to open it to consult\nMoore's _American Congress_, and learn how James Otis, in the\nMassachusetts Assembly, made the first suggestion that the colonies get\ntogether--furnished us with the Federal principle itself. Find out who\nOtis was, and what became of his resolution when it got to the Virginia\nHouse of Deputies. Getting down to the time of the Revolution, on later\nevenings, find out why the Articles of Confederation failed--because\nthey had too little Federalism in them.\n\nAnother subject which Chapters might take up is American politics. This\nis a good topic for ladies as well as for men. Use Johnston's book with\nthe above title for a basis, and get your arguments from the newspapers.\nLearn the structure of our local, State, and national government.\n\nAnother topic is the study of men and women of the past and present.\nSecure the exclusive use of a good biographical dictionary. Require each\nmember present, under penalty of a small fine, to give the name of some\nfamous man or woman, and tell why he or she is known to the world. This\nexercise will broaden your mental horizon wonderfully. For instance,\nHerbert Martin, when his turn comes, says he has found many interesting\nthings in the life of Cavour. How many members of the average Chapter\ncan tell who Cavour was? Yet he was a modern man of the first rank.\n\nPlan something to do, and your Chapter is likely to be interested in it.\nTo find out what that something shall be, consult your members, and\nfollow their wishes. Then get outside help from older persons, not to\ntell you what to do, but to aid you to do that which you yourselves have\nchosen to do. Such a course will make a strong and profitable Chapter.\nThousands of men of affairs will tell you, if you ask them, that one of\nthe greatest sources of help to them in their later years was the\nknowledge and enthusiasm that they acquired in these juvenile societies.\n\n\n\n\nThe Word Hunts.\n\n\nNot the slightest injustice will be done to any competitor in the \"Word\nHunts,\" because full rules were not published with the first\nannouncement. Judges will cut out of all lists obsolete or other\nprohibited words, and the chances of success will not be lessened\nbecause such words were inserted. Do _not_ roll your lists.\n\n\n\n\nA Special Offer.\n\n\nTeachers, students, superintendents of Sunday-schools, Ladies, members\nof the Round Table, and others willing to distribute ten to seventy-five\nProspectuses and personally commend HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, will receive,\naccording to number of Prospectuses distributed, bound volumes of\nHARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for 1893, gold badges of the Round Table Order,\npacket of fifty engraved visiting-cards, bearing their name, with copper\nplate for future use, rubber stamp bearing their name and address,\nnickel pencil resembling a common nail, or silver badge of the Round\nTable Order. This offer is restricted to one person in a town or\nneighborhood. In applying, state how many circulars you can place in the\nhands of those sure to be interested in them, what are your facilities\nfor distributing them, and what prize you seek. Apply early.\n\n\n\n\nFor an In-door Evening.\n\n\nThe season of the year approaches when in-door parties are held. At\nthese parties riddles are often called for. Several members send us some\nriddles. We group them here, with answers, that you may use them if you\nhave need:\n\n  For no crime did I come to my end,\n    No rope round my neck was e'er tied;\n  Though no jury decided my fate,\n    I was hanged from a tree till I died.\n\nAnswer: Absalom.\n\n  I was a baron bold and bad,\n    A follower of King John;\n  I lost my place, I lost my power,\n    And all my wealth was gone.\n  My story, told in jingling rhyme,\n    Familiar is to all:\n  For I'm only ---- ----\n    The ---- that had a fall.\n\nAnswer: Humpty Dumpty. Egg.\n\n  My first a party leader is,\n    A river is my second,\n  Whoever bears my third will still\n    A man of mark be reckoned.\n  An emperor, in sad disgrace,\n    Knelt barefoot at the portal\n  Of him whose name my whole betrays,\n    In church and state immortal.\n\nAnswer: Hill-Dee-Brand.--Hildebrand.\n\n  I'm a very busy person\n    About this time of year;\n  At morning and at night-time\n    I'm almost always here,\n  But at high noon I steal away\n    To come again at close of day.\n\nAnswer: Jack Frost.\n\n\n\n\nThe Helping Hand.\n\n\nAt the approaching Christmas-time cannot the Ladies, the Knights and\nPatrons assisting, hold some fairs in aid of the School Fund? As a rule,\nthese fairs prove the most successful of any plan so far followed. There\nis some work connected with such undertakings, but there is also much\npleasure. Won't _you_ speak to your friends about it at once? See what\nthey say and what they will do. You will find all willing to help. What\nis needed is a leader. Won't you take the lead--set the ball rolling?\n\n\n\n\nPrizes for Pen-Drawings.\n\n\nMembers are asked to bear in mind that we cannot send proof of the prize\nstory promptly, as several of you ask us to do, since the Story\nCompetition does not close till near the end of December. It is the\nfirst prize story of that contest that is to be illustrated. We have\nabout fifty requests for the proof, so the contest is to be a spirited\none. With the proof, to be sent to contestants early in January, there\nwill be mailed hints about size, etc. The sum of $10 is offered for the\nbest illustration. Contestants select their own subject. Those who wish\nto try for the prize should ask for proof. If, after you receive the\nproof, you think you cannot successfully compete, you merely throw the\nproof in the waste basket. Better try in the contest. You risk nothing.\n\nBy-the-way, do you remember the spirited illustrations of Mrs.\nRoosevelt's _Heroes of America_ published last summer? They were the\nprofessional work of Mr. F. C. Yohn, who, as an aspiring young man, and\nthen living in Indianapolis, tried in one of our pen-drawing contests,\nwinning a first prize.\n\n\n\n\nHow Did the Gypsy Know?\n\n\n     Years ago an old gypsy called on my grandmother and wanted to tell\n     her fortune. My grandmother didn't believe the gypsy's power to\n     tell of future events. But the gypsy persisted. Finally,\n     grandmother declared she had no money with which to pay her.\n     \"Yes,\" said the old gypsy, \"you have five dollars hid in that old\n     clock.\"\n\n     Well, my grandmother consented at this exhibition of the gypsy's\n     supernatural powers. And then the gypsy told her, among other\n     things, that she would have great trouble, leave Georgia, and go\n     away down South, and be left a widow, and then years after go back\n     to Georgia. Now, the strange part about this is that the gypsy's\n     prophecy was literally true. My grandmother, sure enough, went\n     away down on the Gulf coast, and her husband died soon after of\n     paralysis, and now, seven years after he died, she is on her way\n     back to Georgia. How did the gypsy know?\n\n  HARRY R. WHITCOMB.\n  UMATILLA, FLA.\n\n\n\n\nPrices of the Order's Badges.\n\n\nThe new badges are an exact reproduction of the rose, in the centre of\nwhich is claimed to be the original \"round table\" of King Arthur. You\nwill find a picture of the top of this table on the back of the 1896\nProspectus, and the centre of it at the bottom of the Patent. The prices\nof the badges are: Pansy leaves or the rose, in silver, 10 cents--that\nis, 8 cents for the badge and 2 cents for postage; of the rose, in gold,\n85 cents, with nothing added for postage. All are in the form of stick\npins. Members are not required to purchase badges. We offer the silver\nrose as payment for giving to your friends, whom you are sure will\nappreciate them, fifteen Round Table circulars. The offer is open to all\nmembers.\n\n\n\n\nThe Order's Handy Book.\n\n\nHave you the Table's \"Handy Book\"? It has thirty-six pages, mostly\nfilled with useful facts. Full information is given about the Order and\nthe School Fund; and there are values of rare stamps and coins; lists of\nwords often misspelled; athletic records of 1895; books that all ought\nto read; information about gaining admission to West Point and\nAnnapolis; populations of cities; rules of etiquette, etc. You may have\ncopies for yourself and friends, if you apply for them. Some members get\ncopies and give them to fellow-students in Sunday-school and day-school\nclasses.\n\n\n\n\nA Question for You.\n\n\n     In the ninetieth line of the First Book of Virgil, the first two\n     words are _Intonuere poli_. The translation, as I have it, is \"the\n     poles resound,\" meaning that the earth echoes with the heavy\n     thunders. Now will somebody please explain to me how the ancients\n     knew there were poles without having some idea of the roundness of\n     the earth? Almost the same expression is used in the 398th line,\n     as follows, _Et coetu cinxere polum_, etc.\n\n  ALFRED C. BAKER.\n  SCHAGHTICOKE, NEW YORK.\n\n\n\n\nA Venetian Night at Newport.\n\n\n     On an evening recently Newport Harbor presented a fine appearance.\n     Of all displays ever given in Newport this was the most beautiful.\n     The procession started at half past eight. There were boats of\n     every description. They were decorated with Chinese lanterns and\n     colored electric lights. Among the most noticeable decoration was\n     the United States flag with a search-light behind it. It looked as\n     though it was painted on the sky. Across Thames Street were\n     electric lights constructed in such a way as to read:\n\n     1895.\n\n     Welcome Yachtsmen.\n\n     The Y.M.C.A. had a triangle made of Japanese lanterns. There were\n     also pictures of the _Defender_ made of cloth and outlined with\n     electric lights. It is estimated that there were between 25,000\n     and 30,000 lanterns used. A great many lights were constructed in\n     such a way as to make the whole outline of the boat show. There\n     was red fire and green fire burning all the time, also many\n     fireworks and two search-lights to brighten up the harbor. The sky\n     had a reddish tint. The naval reserves had a sea-serpent about\n     seventy-five feet long. Old Father Neptune took things easy on the\n     back of the monster. The serpent looked very docile, and its eyes\n     stuck out, taking in the grand display.\n\n  CHESTER GLADDING.\n  NEWPORT, R. I.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]\n\n     Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly\n     answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to\n     hear from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.\n\n\nABOUT OUR PRIZE COMPETITION.\n\nOur annual Photographic Prize Competition has, as usual, attracted a\ngreat deal of attention, not only from members of our Camera Club, but\nfrom many who wish to become members in order to enter the competition,\nfor as this is the first time that the ROUND TABLE has opened a\nphotographic competition to all amateurs without regard to age, the\ninterest is much more widespread.\n\nIn order, however, that the younger members may not feel handicapped by\nbeing obliged to compete with older ones, there is a competition opened\nfor them the same as in former years, and any who have not passed their\neighteenth birthday may enter this competition. There are three\nclasses--marines, landscapes, and figure studies. A correspondent asks\nif pictures of paintings or engravings would come under the head of\nfigure studies. Pictures of pictures will not be admitted to the prize\ncompetition. All pictures must be original, not copied from any other\npicture. This would not prevent any one using a picture as a suggestion\nof grouping or arrangement of the subject. Take, for instance, the\nwell-known picture by Murillo, \"The Fruit Venders.\" A photograph of this\npicture would not be admitted in the prize competition, but one might\ntake two children, pose them as nearly as possible like the children in\nthe picture, and then photograph. Such a picture would be an original\npicture, but not an original idea.\n\nAnother question that was asked was if the pictures must be marked, or\nif one must send a separate slip of paper with name on, etc. Rule VII.\nsays that \"pictures must be marked with the name and address of the\nsender, the class to which it belongs, and the statement whether the\nartist has passed his or her eighteenth birthday.\" This means that the\npicture must be marked, and by the picture is understood the card on\nwhich it is mounted. The best place to mark a picture is on the back of\nthe card mount.\n\nIn regard to the size of a picture, a picture taken with a 4 x 5 camera\nis meant, though a trimmed print is a little less than this dimension.\nThe picture must not be trimmed enough to bring it down to 3 x 4, as, of\ncourse, that would bar it from the competition.\n\nCompetitors may send pictures to each class, and they are not restricted\nas to number.\n\nThe students of the Illinois College of Photography are going to enter\nthe competition. As this is the only college of photography in the\nUnited States we shall expect to see some very fine work.\n\n     Will Sir Knight Robert H. Sanders, Jersey City, New Jersey, please\n     send street and number. A letter addressed to him at Jersey City\n     has been returned to the editor marked, \"Not Found.\" If Sir Robert\n     will send address the letter will be forwarded to him at once.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Ivory Soap]\n\nA luxury is \"Anything which pleases the senses and is also costly or\ndifficult to obtain.\"\n\nIvory Soap pleases the senses, but is neither costly nor difficult to\nobtain. Your grocer keeps it.\n\nTHE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nEvery whale has barnacles--every success has imitators.\n\nThe De Long Patent Hook and Eye.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSee that hump?\n\nRichardson & De Long Bros., Philadelphia.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Waterloo\"\n\nThe popular and exciting new battle-game for 2, 3, or 4 players. For\nyoung or old.\n\nPrice $1.25.\n\nThe Parker Games\n\nAll PLAY WELL!\n\nAsk for \"_Innocence Abroad_,\" \"_Napoleon_,\" \"_Chivalry_,\" \"_Yankee\nDoodle_.\"\n\nSold Everywhere.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE\n\nBALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS\n\nhas earned more money for boys than all other presses in the market.\nBoys, don't idle away your time when you can buy a self-inking\nprinting-press, type, and complete outfit for $5.00. Write for\nparticulars, there is money in it for you.\n\nTHE J. F. W. DORMAN CO.,\nBaltimore, Md., U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\n=DEAFNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED= by my =INVISIBLE= Tubular Cushions. Have\nhelped more to good =HEAR=ing than all other devices combined. Whispers\n=HEAR=d. Help ears as glasses do eyes. =F. Hiscox=, 853 B'dway, N.Y.\nBook of proofs =FREE=\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE\nWATER]\n\n\n\n\nGRATEFUL--COMFORTING.\n\nEPPS'S COCOA.\n\nBREAKFAST--SUPPER.\n\n\"By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which govern the operations\nof digestion and nutrition, and by a careful application of the fine\nproperties of well-selected Cocoa, Mr. Epps has provided for our\nbreakfast and supper a delicately flavored beverage which may save us\nmany heavy doctors' bills. It is by the judicious use of such articles\nof diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong\nenough to resist every tendency to disease. Hundreds of subtle maladies\nare floating around us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point.\nWe may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves well fortified\nwith pure blood and a properly nourished frame.\"--_Civil Service\nGazette._\n\nMade simply with boiling water or milk. Sold only in half-pound tins, by\nGrocers, labelled thus:\n\nJAMES EPPS & CO., Ltd.,\nHomoeopathic Chemists, London, England.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCARD PRINTER =FREE=\n\nSets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. YOU can make\nmoney with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder,\nPads and Tweezers. Best Linen Marker; worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE\nfor 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and large catalogue of 1000\nBargains.\n\nR. H. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 Cortlandt St. N.Y. City\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"When Christmas was Christmas.\"\n\n\"Seven Crown Jewels.\"\n\nA precious collection it is, indeed, both of old and new, this\n\"=Christmas in Song and Story=,\" with its nearly three hundred Songs and\nHymns and Carols, each in its musical setting. \"Where can another such\ngarner be found, so rare, so choice, and so full?\" Twenty-two full-page\nillustrations, of Christmas subjects, from Nast to Raphael. The literary\nselections are long, but each is complete. \"To have these seven crown\njewels brought together into one diadem,\" says _Christian Culture_, \"is\nalone worth more than is asked for the entire work, to say nothing of\nits rich setting both musical and pictorial.\" Large quarto, crimson\ncloth, $2.50. Address\n\nHarper & Brothers, New York.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THRILLING EXPERIENCE OF TWO YOUNG HEATHENS WHO LEARNED TO\nSKATE.\n\nI. THEY TIED THEIR QUEUES TOGETHER, SO THAT IF EITHER BROKE THROUGH HE\nWOULD BE RESCUED BY THE OTHER. II. IT SEEMED DELIGHTFUL UNTIL-- III. ONE\nOF THEM SLIPPED AND BOTH FELL; IV. BUT AFTER A LITTLE PRACTICE THEY GOT\nON QUITE NICELY, WHEN-- V. THEY BOTH BROKE THROUGH, AND-- VI. THEIR\nCAUTION AND FORETHOUGHT PROVED THE MEANS OF SAVING THEIR LIVES.]\n\n\n\n\nA TIMELESS TOWN.\n\n\nThe old proverb says that time was made for slaves. It is certainly true\nthat it was not made for Alsacians, if the following story told by a\ntraveller lately returned from Alsace be true. Says he: \"On my return\nfrom Belchen, I looked upon the beautiful villages of the Lewen Valley,\nand being a tourist who likes to poke his nose into everything, I\nturned, by chance, into the church at Kirchberg. On coming out I took\nout my watch to regulate it by the clock in the church tower. But there\nwas no clock to be seen. Hence I went into the village inn, and there\nasked the time. But my host could not oblige me. 'I can't tell you\nexactly, for, you see,' he said, 'we have no use for clocks. In the\nmorning we go by the smoke rising from the chimney at the parsonage up\non the hill. The parsonage people are very regular. We dine when dinner\nis ready. At 4 P.M. the whistle of the train coming from Massmunster\ntells us that the time has come for another meal, and at night we know\nthat it is time to go to bed when it is dark. On Sunday we go to church\nwhen the bell rings. Our parson is a very easy-going man, and he doesn't\nmind beginning half an hour sooner or later.\"\n\n\n\n\nFORCE OF HABIT.\n\n\nForce of habit impels us to do a great many ridiculous things. That\nclever little compendium of wit and information, _Tit Bits_, well\nillustrates this fact with a story of a railway porter, living in\nLancashire, who was in the habit of frequently getting up in his sleep,\nand from whose actions it was evident that his daily occupation was ever\npresent in his mind. One night he jumped up hurriedly, ran down to the\nkitchen, vigorously opened the oven door, and cried out, \"Change here\nfor Bolton, Bury, and Manchester.\"\n\n\n\n\nA PROPER RETORT.\n\n\nA good story is told of a self-respecting carpenter who was sent to make\nsome repairs in a private house. As he entered the room in which the\nwork was to be done, accompanied by his apprentice, the lady of the\nhouse called out, \"Mary, see that my jewel-case is locked.\"\n\nThe carpenter understood, and, as he was an honest man, he was\nindignant. He had his opportunity, however, and he used it. He removed\nhis watch and chain from his waistcoat with a significant air, and gave\nthem to his apprentice.\n\n\"John,\" he said, \"take these back to the shop. It seems that this house\nisn't safe.\"\n\n\n\n\nSOMETHING WRONG.\n\n\nIt was a very cold morning, and Bobbie came rushing into the house very\nmuch excited.\n\n\"Mommer,\" he cried, \"there's something the matter with me. Please send\nfor the doctor. _I'm breathing fog!_\"\n\n\n\n\nA DOG STORY.\n\n\nA London dog story is apt to be a hard sort of a tale to believe, but it\nis never lacking in interest. The latest is of a dog who takes a daily\nwalk with its mistress. The animal has observed that at a certain\ncrossing the policeman stops the traffic to allow his mistress to pass\nover. The other day the dog went out alone, and when he came to the\ncrossing he barked to attract the policeman's attention. The policeman\nobserved what the dog wanted. He stopped the traffic, and the dog walked\nsolemnly across.\n\n\n\n\nA MISTAKE.\n\n\n\"Now, Jimmie,\" said his teacher, \"let us take up the alphabet. There are\nin all twenty-six letters.\"\n\n\"Hoh!\" giggled Jimmie.\n\n\"What are you laughing at?\" asked the teacher.\n\n\"You're trying to fool me,\" said Jimmie, \"'bout them letters. Our\npostman has more'n a hundred every morning.\"","title":"Harper's Round Table, October 29, 1895","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":26791}