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Title: Harper's Round Table, November 10, 1896

Author: Various

Release date: July 5, 2019 [eBook #59855]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Annie R. McGuire


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, NOVEMBER 10, 1896 ***




Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

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

       *       *       *       *       *

PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1896. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.

VOL. XVIII.--NO. 889. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration]

RECAPTURED.

A STORY OF THE APACHE DAYS IN ARIZONA.

BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.


There was a boy at old Camp Sandy once upon a time when white men were
scarce in Arizona, and from the day he was ten years old this boy's
consuming desire was to help "clean out," as he heard the soldiers
express it, a certain band of mountain Apaches that had surprised and
slaughtered a small party of people in whose welfare he felt especial
interest, for the reason that there was with them a little fellow of his
own age. They had sojourned at Sandy only three days, and then, deaf to
remonstrance, had gone on their way up into the mountains "prospecting";
but during those three days the two youngsters had been inseparable.
"Sherry" Bates, the sergeant's son, had done the honors of the post for
Jimmy Lane, the miner's boy; had proudly exhibited the troop quarters,
stables, and corrals; had taken him across the stream to the old ruins
up the opposite heights, and told him prodigious stories of the odd
people that used to dwell there; had introduced him personally to all
the hounds, big and little, and had come to grief in professing to be on
intimate terms with a young but lively black bear cub at the sutler's
store, and was rescued from serious damage from bruin's claws and
clasping arms only by the prompt dash of by-standers. It took some of
Sherry's conceit out of him, but not all, and the troopers had lots of
fun, later on, at the corral, when he essayed to show Master Jim how
well he could ride bare-back, and mounted for the purpose one of Mexican
Pete's little "burros" by way of illustration. All the same, they were
days of thrilling interest, and Sherry wept sorely when, a week later, a
friendly Indian came in and made known to the officers, mainly by signs,
that the party had been killed to a man, that their mutilated bodies
were lying festering in the sun about the ruins of their wagon up near
Stoneman's Lake in the pine country of the Mogollon.[1] The Major
commanding sent out a scouting party to investigate, and the report
proved only too true. The bodies could no longer be identified; but one
thing was certain: there were the remains of four men, hacked and burned
beyond recognition, but not a trace of little Jim.

[1] Pronounced Mogol_yone_.

"It was Coyote's band beyond doubt," said the Lieutenant who went in
command, and for Coyote's band the troopers at Sandy "had it in," as
their soldier slang expressed it, for long, long months--for over a
year, in fact--before they ever got word or trace of them. They seemed
to have vanished from the face of the earth. Meantime there had been
chase after chase, scout after scout. General Crook had been transferred
long since to an Eastern field, and was busy with the Sioux and
Cheyennes. Another commander, one who lacked Crook's knowledge of Indian
tricks and character, had taken charge in Arizona, and the Apaches had
quickly found it out. They made it lively for small parties, and easily
kept out of the path of big ones. And this was the way things were going
when, one autumn night, signal fires were discovered ablaze away up in
the Red Rock country, and Major Wheeler sent a troop post-haste to see
what it meant; and with this troop went Sergeant Bates, and on its
trail, an hour later, unbeknown to almost everybody, went Sherry.

Indians rarely ventured into the deep valley of the Sandy. The boy had
hunted jack-rabbits and shot California quail and fished for "shiners"
and other inconspicuous members of the finny tribe along its banks, and
he knew the neighborhood north, south, and west for miles. Eastward, out
of sight of the flag-staff he had never ventured. That was towards the
land of the Apache, and thither his father had told him no one was safe
to go. An only son was Sherry, and a pretty good boy, as boys go,
especially when it is considered that he had been motherless for several
years. The old sergeant, his father, watched him carefully, taught him
painstakingly, and was very grateful when any of the officers or their
wives would help with the lessons of the little man. He had had a pony
to ride, but that pony was old when his father bought him from an
officer who was ordered to the East, and Sherry soon declared him too
old and stiff for his use. What he craved was a horse, and occasionally
the men let him mount some of their chargers when the troop went down to
water at the river, and that was Sherry's glory; and on this particular
October night he had stolen from his little bed and made his way to the
corral, and had got Jimmy Lanigan, the saddler sergeant's son, now a
trumpeter in "F" Troop, to saddle for him a horse usually ridden by
Private McPhee, now sick in hospital of mountain fever. As Mac couldn't
go, his horse would not be needed, and Sherry determined to ride in his
place.

But some one gave old Bates the "tip," and he caught the little fellow
by the ear and led him home just before the troop started, and bade him
stay there; and Sherry feigned to be penitent and obedient, but hugged
his father hard, and so they parted.

But boys who own dogs know the old dog's trick. Sometimes when starting
for a day's pleasuring where Rover would be very much in the way, the
master has sternly ordered him home when, with confident joy, the
usually welcome pet and companion came bounding and barking after. You
have all seen how sad and crestfallen he looked, how dumbly he begged,
how reluctantly he skulked homeward when at last he had to go or be
pelted with stones; and then, time and again, he finally turned and
followed, a long distance behind, never venturing to draw near, until,
so very far from home that he knew he couldn't be sent back, he would
reappear, tail on high and eyes beaming forgiveness and assurance, and
the battle was won.

And Sherry had learned Rover's little game, and he lay patiently in wait
until he knew the troop was gone, then over to the corral he stole,
easily coaxed the stable sentry into giving him a lift, and in half an
hour he was loping northward along the winding Sandy under the starry
skies, sure of overtaking the command before the dawn if need be, yet
craftily keeping well behind the hindermost, so that his stern old
father could not send him back when at last his presence was discovered.

For, long before daybreak, the soldiers were trailing in single file,
afoot and leading their horses up the steep, rocky sides of the
Mogollon, taking a short-cut across the range instead of following the
long, circuitous route to Stoneman's Lake, and only a hundred feet or so
behind the rear-most of the pack-train followed keen-eyed, quick-eared
little Sherry, still clinging to his saddle, for his light weight made
little difference to such a stocky horse as McPhee's Patsy, and trusting
mainly to Patsy's power as a trailer to carry him unerringly in the
hoof-prints of the troop.

When at last the sun came peering over the pine crests to the east, the
little command was deep down in a rocky cañon, and here the Captain
ordered halt, lead into line, and unsaddle. The horses and the
pack-mules were quickly relieved of their loads, and the men were
gathering dry fagots for little cook-fires--fires that must make no
smoke at all, even down in that rocky defile, for Indian eyes are sharp
as a microscope; but before marching on again men and horses both had to
have their bite and the men their tin mug of soldier coffee, and here it
was that some one suddenly exclaimed,

"Well, I'm blessed if here ain't Sherry!"

It was useless for the old sergeant to scold now. The officers promptly
and laughingly took the boy's part and declared him "a chip of the old
block," and bade the sergeant bring the boy along. It was safer, at all
events, than sending him back.

And so, secretly proud of him, though openly declaring he would larrup
him well the moment they got back to the post, Sergeant Bates obeyed his
Captain, and thus it happened that Master Sherry was with "F" Troop the
chill October morning, just at dawn, when they found out, entirely to
their satisfaction, just what those signal-fires meant.

They were not visible from Camp Sandy, you must understand. Indians are
too sharp for that. They were started in certain deep clefts in the Red
Rocks which permitted their glare to be seen only from the southeast or
the east, the direction from which the roving bands approached when
seeking to steal their way back to the old reservation after some bloody
foray, sure of food and welcome at the lodges of their friends and
fellow-savages, provided they came not empty-handed. Coyote's band had
not been near the reservation since their exploit of the year before. A
price was on the leader's head, but scouting parties away down to the
southeast in the Chiricahua country had learned that recently Coyote
with some forty followers had crossed to the north of the Gila, and
seemed to be making his way back to his old haunts in the Mogollon. All
this was wired to Major Wheeler, and Wheeler sent some trustworthy
Apache-Mohave scouts out towards the head-waters of Chevelon's Fork to
the east, with orders to watch for the coming of Coyote. It was one of
these runners who brought in the tidings that the signal-fires were
burning, and that meant, "Come on, Coyote; the coast is clear."

And Apache confederates, watching from the reservation, twenty miles
up-stream, would have said the coast was still clear, for the road to
Stoneman's Lake was untrodden. A day later, to be sure, they got word
that a whole troop of horse had gone by night up into the mountains, but
it was then too late to undo what they had done--lured Coyote many a
mile towards his enemies. They sent up "smokes" in the afternoon to warn
him, but by that time Coyote's people, what was left of them, knew more
than did their friends at the reservation.

For, early that morning, just at dawn, while some of them were sound
asleep in their brush shelters, or "wicky-ups," away on top of a rocky
pinnacle that overlooked the country for miles, this is what happened:

Following the lead of three or four swart, black-haired, beady-eyed
Apache scouts, the soldiers came stealthily climbing the steep. Away
down in a rocky cañon they had left the horses and pack-mules, their
blankets and, many of them, their boots, and in moccasins, or even
stocking feet in a few cases, they noiselessly made their way. Officers
and all carried the death-dealing little brown cavalry carbine, and
thimble belts of copper cartridges were buckled about their waists.
"Find um top," the leader of the little squad of scouts muttered to the
Captain, as he pointed the evening before to this distant peak, and well
he knew their ways, for only three years before he himself had been a
"hostile," and was tamed into subjection by General Crook. And so it
proved. Relying on the far-away night fires, Coyote and his weary band
had made their brush shelters on the old Picacho. The few squaws with
them had filled their water-jars at the cañon. Two trusty runners had
gone on westward to the reservation, and the rest to sleep. Coyote
thought the white soldiers "too heap fool" to think of making a night
march through the mountains instead of coming away around by the old
road. With the troop-horses was left a small guard, and with the guard a
little boy--Master Sherry Bates--fretting and fuming not a little as he
lay there among the rocks, wrapped in his father's blanket, and
listening with eagerness unspeakable for the crash of musketry away up
on that dimly outlined peak that should tell that his father and the
boys had found their foemen and the fight was on. Presently, as the
eastern sky began to change from crimson to gold, the lofty summit
seemed slowly to blaze with glistening fire. The light, still dim and
feeble in the jagged ravine, grew sharp and clear along the range, and
one of the guard, peering through the Captain's binocular, swore he
could "see some of the fellers climbing close to the top"; and Sherry,
though shivering with cold and excitement, rolled out of his blanket and
scrambled to his feet. An instant more and, floating on the mountain
breeze, there came the sudden crash and splutter of distant musketry,
and Sherry could control himself no longer. Mad with excitement, he
began dancing about the bivouac. The men were all listening and gazing.
The horses were snorting and pawing. There was no one to hinder the
little fellow now. Half shrouded by the lingering darkness in the gorge,
he stole away among the stunted pines and went speeding as though for
dear life up the cañon.

The fight itself was of short duration. Surprised in their stronghold,
the Indians sprang to their arms at the warning cry of one haplessly
wakeful sentinel. It was his death-song, too, for Sergeant Bates and the
veteran corporal at his side, foremost with the guides, drove their
almost simultaneous shots at the dark figure as it suddenly leaped
between them and the sky, tumbling the sentry in his tracks, and then,
before the startled band could spring to the shelter of surrounding
bowlders, the soldiers with one volley and a ringing cheer came dashing
in among them. Some warriors in their panic leaped from the ledge and
were dashed upon the rocks below; some, like mountain-goats, went
bounding down the eastward side and disappeared among the straggling
timber; some, crouching behind the bowlders, fought desperately, until
downed by carbine butt or bullet. Some few wailing squaws knelt beside
their slain, sure that the white soldiers would not knowingly harm them;
while others, like frightened doe, darted away into the shelter of rock
or stunted pine. One little Indian boy sat straight up from a sound
sleep, rubbing his baby eyes, and yelling with terror. Another little
scamp, with snapping black eyes, picked up a gun and pulled trigger like
a man, and then lay sprawling on his back, rubbing a damaged shoulder,
and kicking almost as hard as the old musket. And then, while some
soldiers went on under a boy Lieutenant in charge of the fleeing
Indians, others, with their short-winded Captain, counted up the Indian
losses and their own, and gave their attention to the wounded; and all
of a sudden there went up a shout from Sergeant Bates, who was peering
over the edge of a shelf of rock.

"Here's more of 'em, sir, running down this way!" followed by a bang
from his carbine and a yell from below, and men who reached his side
were just in time to see a brace of squaws, dragging two or three
youngsters by the hand, darting into the bushes, while their protecting
warriors defiantly faced their assailants, fired a shot or two, and then
went plunging after. "I know that Indian," almost screamed old Bates.
"It's Coyote himself!"

"After 'em, then!" was the order, and away went every man.

Two minutes later, out from under a shelving rock came crawling a
trembling squaw. Peering cautiously around, and assuring herself the
troopers were gone, she listened intently to the sound of the pursuit
dying away down the mountain-side; then in harsh whisper summoned some
one else. Out from the same shelter, shaking with fear, came a little
Apache boy, black and dirty, dragging by the hand another boy, white and
dirtier still, and crying. Seizing a hand of each, the woman scurried
back along the range, until she reached the narrow trail by which the
troopers had climbed the heights; then, panting, and muttering threats
to the urchins dragging helplessly after, down the hill-side she tore;
but only a hundred yards or so, when, with a scream of fright and
misery, she threw herself upon her knees before the body of a lithe,
sinewy Apache just breathing his last. And then, forgetting her boy
charges, forgetting everything for the moment but that she had lost her
brave, she began swaying to and fro, crooning some wild chant, while the
boys, white and black, knelt shuddering among the rocks in nerveless
terror.

And this was the scene that suddenly burst upon the eyes of Sherry, the
sergeant's boy, as he came scrambling up the trail in search of his
father. And then there went up a shrill, boyish voice in a yell of
mingled hope and dread and desperation, and the dirty little white
savage, screaming "Sherry! Sherry!" went bounding to meet the new-comer.
And the squaw rose up and screamed too--something Master Sherry couldn't
understand, but that drove terror to the white boy and lent him wings.
"Run! run!" he cried as he seized Sherry by the hand, and, hardly
knowing where they were going, back went both youngsters tearing like
mad down the tortuous trail.

Five minutes later, as some of the men, wellnigh breathless, came
drifting in from the pursuit, and Corporal Clancy, running up from the
cañon in pursuit of the vanished "kid," both parties stumbled suddenly
upon this motley pair, and the rocks rang with Clancy's glad cry.

"Here he is, sergeant! all right, and Jimmy Lane wid him."

And that's why Sherry didn't get the promised larruping when they all
got back to Sandy.




DEPORTMENT.


  Half this windy day I've watched them,
      In the breeze,
  Those long slender tasselled branches
      On the trees,
  Bowing, courtesying politely,
  Doing their deportments rightly,
  As modestly, as brightly
      As you please.

  Why, I never saw such manners,
      Not till now,
  Such beautiful deportment;
      But I vow
  All the people that I see
  Are as rude as they can be,
  Not to stop before each tree
      And make a bow.

  ARTHUR WILLIS COLTON.




[Illustration: Adventures with Friend Paul.]


The following morning we left the village at daylight, each one carrying
about twenty pounds of boiled smoked elephant meat. We were soon in the
forest, and tramped and tramped along without seeing any game. Towards
four o'clock we met a great many fresh elephant tracks. The animals
seemed to be just ahead of us. The footprints after a while began to be
so plentiful that evidently there had been several herds of elephants.
At about five o'clock we came to a beautiful prairie which seemed like a
lovely island on that big sea of trees. There were many fields of
plantain-trees along the borders of the forest, growing in the midst of
trees that had been felled and burned.

Okili said to me: "We have seen, Moguizi, many elephants' tracks on our
way here. I am almost certain they will come here to-night, for they are
fond of plantains."

So we resolved to go no further that day, for we were on good
elephant-hunting ground, and made preparations to spend the night on the
border of the forest and wait for the huge beasts. We only spoke in
whispers, for we thought the elephants might not be far off.

Okili then said, pointing to a spot where the forest advanced on the
prairie, forming, so to speak, a cape:

"It would be wise, I think, for some of us to go to that place, for
there also is another large field of plantain-trees, and the chances are
that some of the elephants will go there, for there are very many."

Then Ogoola, pointing to another field of plantain-trees south of us,
said, "To make sure, some of us ought to go there also."

We all assented.

"We have chosen," said I, "three places where we are going to lie in
wait for elephants, so we must divide ourselves into three parties."

I had hardly said these words than they all cried with one voice, "I am
going with you, Moguizi."

I replied, "Hunters, if you all go with me, then there will be only one
party, and we will be too many together."

"That is so," they all answered. There was a pause.

Okili got up and said, "The Moguizi, Okili, and Niamkala will make one
party. You know that the King said that I must be always by the side of
the Moguizi."

"Yes," they all answered. "The King said so."

Then Okili spoke again, and said, "Obindji, Mbango, and Macondai will
make the second party. Ogoola, Makooga, and Fasiko will make the third
party."

Okili, who had much experience in hunting elephants, said, "Now listen
to what I am going to tell you, and act accordingly. The great thing in
elephant-hunting is for one to have a cool head, otherwise he had better
stay at home. Often elephants, when wounded, charge those who fire at
them. In that case, if the hunter runs away, he is lost, for the
elephant is sure to overtake him, tramp over him, and one of his feet
upon the hunter's body is quite enough to kill him instantly. The
elephant may prefer to impale him on one of his tusks, or seize him with
his trunk and dash him to the ground or against a tree.

"The only way to escape the elephant when he makes his furious charge
upon you is to keep perfectly calm, then when you are sure of the
direction of the huge beast, instead of facing him, move sideways; then
when he is five or six yards from you, take three steps backward as
quickly as you possibly can. His pace is then so rapid that he cannot
deviate from his course, and he passes by you, and you are safe."

"Yes, Okili, you are right," I said. "I have been three times in the
same predicament, and I did exactly what you tell us to do, and there
are no other ways to escape the fury of the elephant."

"We will do so," all the hunters said, with one voice, "but we hope to
kill the elephants on the spot," and as they said this they looked at
the charms which hung on their guns.

We separated, as we had agreed, into three separate parties, but not
before we had taken our dinner of elephant meat. Each party went into
the prairie to reach the fields, and one and all disappeared in the
midst of them.

I had just looked at my watch for the tenth time, which marked one
o'clock, when lo! I saw through the dim moonlight, emerging from the
forest on the opposite side of the prairie, something like a big black
spot, which was moving. Soon I saw it was a huge bull elephant. He
walked for a while, then stood still and looked all around, as if to see
if there was danger ahead.

Okili and Niamkala had their backs turned to me, and were watching in
another direction. I gave the cluck of danger--cluck, cluck! They turned
toward me, and I pointed the bull elephant to them. Then the big bull
gave a shrill, piercing trumpeting, which evidently meant there was no
danger, for immediately afterwards elephant after elephant emerged from
the forest into the prairie. I counted one, two, five, seven, ten,
thirteen, seventeen, twenty, twenty-three, twenty-seven, when appeared
behind them all a cow followed by a baby elephant. No more elephants
came out of the forest; the herd was all there. They all came by the
bull elephant and stood still in a bunch. Were they mistrustful of
danger, or were they taking counsel together before moving?

Fortunately for us the wind blew in the right direction; it blew from
the elephants towards us, so they could not possibly detect our scent.

After a while the herd nearest to us, headed by the big bull, marched in
our direction. Their keen eyes had evidently detected the plantains.
They walked slowly. We could hear their heavy footsteps.

Soon they entered the plantation not one hundred yards from us, and then
the destruction began. Plantain-tree after plantain-tree was brought
down by them. They were making such a havoc!

Before we moved from our hiding-place we waited until they were so far
in among the trees that they could not possibly see us when we crossed
that bit of the prairie that stood between us.

The time came at last when we left our place. Okili gave the small
cluck, to draw our attention, and made the sign to follow him. We left
our hiding-place, and as soon as we reached the grass we lay low,
creeping towards the place where the beasts were. We entered the
plantation; tree after tree had been pulled down. Fortunately they were
making such a noise continually pulling down the trees that they could
not hear us.

We three were close together, and advanced slowly towards the game,
when, to our consternation, the wind shifted suddenly; if it shifted two
or three more points of the compass, then the elephants would be aware
of our presence.

After emerging from a cluster of plantain-trees, Okili suddenly stood
still, put his finger on his mouth--a sign of danger. Looking around, we
saw within twenty yards of us the bull elephant feeding on a bunch of
plantains. How big he looked!

Niamkala, Okili, and I looked at one another, as if to say, now danger
is before us; let our hearts not fail us. Then slowly we pressed forward
towards the big bull.

Of course he was the most dangerous of the whole herd. It was certain
that he would charge if we did not kill him on the spot. Then we must
look out for our lives. Okili looked at his old-fashioned gun once more;
Niamkala did likewise. I gave a look also at Bull-dog, and I said to
myself, "Paul, if you let this elephant tramp on you or toss you or
impale you, it will be all over with you; you will never see home
again."

We were getting dangerously near. Niamkala had left us, and crept
towards the elephant in such a manner that he could send a shot behind
his left shoulder without the danger of his iron plug coming in our
direction if it missed the animal. There was no danger of that, for
Niamkala was a splendid shot, but then he might only wound him.

[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE BULL ELEPHANT.]

Okili and I had approached within twelve or fifteen yards; we were
facing each other; circumstance had favored us. The moon was hidden
under a cloud, and just as the cloud disappeared we raised our guns. We
were to fire between the elephant's eyes. Niamkala also raised his gun,
and we all fired at the same time. We were upon our feet at once, and
waited for the effect of our shots. The elephant seemed to stagger, then
suddenly he made a plunge towards Okili and me, charging at full speed.
We turned instantly sidewise to let him pass in front of us. In a moment
he was near; we made three steps backwards and he passed us. I fired
another shot; we heard a thumping noise on the ground; the big beast had
fallen dead.

Of course the whole herd decamped after we had fired. They went through
the jungle, breaking every small sapling that came in their way and
barred their flight. For quite a while we could hear them, until the
noise gradually died away in the distance.

Then we left the dead bull and went on the prairie, and saw some men
running in our direction. As they came in sight they shouted, despite
their being out of breath, "We have killed two elephants and wounded one
that has run away."

We shouted back, "We have killed the big bull elephant."

We embraced one another, and shouted in the wildest manner, "We are men!
We are men!" Then they all danced round the bull elephant, and
exclaimed, "You wanted to kill our people; you charged them, but you got
killed instead." And they had a war-dance round the dead animal, after
which we went to their camp and saw the two cow elephants. They danced
round them, after which they cut a piece off each elephant, and took
these into the wood and left them there upon large leaves, for the
spirits Mombo and Olombo, who ruled over the hunting, to feed upon.

One of the bull elephant's tusks weighed sixty-nine pounds, the other
one sixty-one. The four tusks of the cow elephants weighed one hundred
and eleven pounds.

The following morning, Mbango, Macondai, Niamkala, and Fasiko left us to
go back to the village to fetch people to carry the elephant meat and
the tusks of ivory.

After they had left, we eagerly followed the tracks the elephants had
made during their flight. For hours we followed these. Fortunately Okili
was well acquainted with this part of the forest. A number of
peculiar-shaped trees were his landmarks. During the day we crossed over
several hunting-paths.

"The elephants must have gone far away," said Okili. "Their leader, the
big bull elephant we have killed, is not with them to direct them. The
other bull elephants in the herd were too young. Some big bull elephant
will scent them, and then become their leader. We had better leave their
tracks and follow one of the hunting-paths. I know the path will lead us
to the place where we are to meet Ogoola and Niamkala."

We slept in the woods, surrounded by big blazing fires. The following
day, towards evening, after walking without intermission for twelve
hours, with the exception of half an hour for our noon meal, we reached
the shore of a little river, and came to the big koola-tree where we
were to meet Ogoola and Niamkala. Okili and I were delighted to see so
many koola nuts on the ground, for both of us were very fond of koola
nuts.

We built our camp at some distance from the big koola-tree, and lighted
big fires, then lay upon our backs and put the soles of our sore and
lame feet as near the fire as we could. It is wonderful how this great
heat takes away the soreness.

The next morning I thought I would take a stroll by myself and look for
elephants, as Okili was not feeling very well.

One hour after I left our camp, and as I was walking along the bank of
the river, I spied, on the opposite side, a big bull elephant by
himself, evidently old, and the kind that is called by the natives a
"rogue elephant." The big beast was looking at the water, as if he had
not made up his mind to cross the river or not, or to take a bath. After
some hesitation he plunged into the river. The sun was very hot. He
threw water with his trunk in the air. He took his bath leisurely, then
began to swim across to a sandy island, upon which he landed, then stood
still for a few moments. He had all the appearance of a "rogue
elephant." I did not like his looks, and I was sure he would charge if
not killed on the spot. I looked at Bull-dog carefully, and made sure
that the steel-pointed bullets were near. I kept watching the beast,
hidden by the thick jungle, when suddenly he lay down and began to roll
himself in the sand. This was his sand bath, and he seemed to enjoy it
thoroughly. Then he got up, stood still for a while, and suddenly
plunged into the water and swam in my direction. I saw that he would
land about opposite to where I stood. "Goodness gracious!" said I to
myself, "I am in a pretty fix; I have no choice of position; I have to
face the huge beast, and I must aim right between his eyes before he
lands."

I placed myself by a big tree, which could protect me in case the
elephant charged.

[Illustration: "I TOOK AIM RIGHT BETWEEN HIS EYES AND FIRED."]

I took aim right between his two eyes, and fired, reserving the other
shot. When I fired he was on the point of landing. As the bullet struck
him he gave a shrill cry; then he landed and charged. I dodged by going
to the other side of the tree, and well I did, for as he passed the tree
he moved his trunk in my direction. Then he disappeared, and I heard a
big crash in the jungle, and all became silent. I went in that
direction, but looked very sharp, and then I saw the huge beast
breathing his last. I approached very carefully, for I was not sure that
he had not strength enough at sight of me to get up and charge. I did
not want to waste more of my steel-pointed bullets. I waited for a
while; the elephant kept still; then I ventured nearer and I found that
he was dead.

Okili, who had heard the report of the gun, started down the stream with
a raft he had made, and gave a war-whoop when he saw me by the shore.
Soon after he was in sight of the big rogue elephant. We cut his tail
off as a trophy, and went back to the camp, for Ogoola and Niamkala were
to be with us that day.

There was great rejoicing with the animal. They were hardly seated when
Okili said to them, "We have great news to tell you."

"What is it?" they said, with great eagerness.

"The Moguizi has killed this morning a rogue elephant; there is his
tail."

  PAUL DU CHAILLU.




A SCHOOL OF SHARKS.

BY CHARLES LEWIS SHAW.


A boy--that is, the ordinary every-day sort of boy, which is, after all,
the best kind--is supposed to cause sufficient mischief not only to keep
himself but his parents and guardians and a large circle of relatives in
considerable hot water. And when you mix up two healthy boys and a
school of sharks, and incidentally throw in a ship's boat, a heavy sea,
and a sudden squall, there is bound to be trouble. And there was.

Philosophers to the contrary notwithstanding, there is such a thing as
luck in this world. It was pure unadulterated luck when the firm of
Henderson, Burt, & Co., let us call them, manufacturers of fire-arms,
had turned out 5000 rifles of what they supposed was the most improved
pattern, at a time when the market was dull, that an obscure German
chemist should invent a gunpowder requiring a cartridge which relegated
those rifles to the catalogue of ancient weapons. And it was luck that
the Captain of the schooner _Hecuba_ happened to be asleep one afternoon
off the coast of Cuba, and his son and the ship's apprentice were boys,
and had a boyish desire to catch a shark, or the firm of Henderson,
Burt, & Co. would have been bankrupt, and a considerable portion of
General Maceo's army would have had to struggle for freedom this summer
with their fists. And even Spanish conscripts cannot be beaten with
fists. This is how it happened:

When the news of that German's discovery reached us, for I was the
junior partner--the "Co." part--of the firm of Henderson, Burt, &. Co.,
it looked very much like ruin. The Orient, our hoped-for market, was not
only too far away and uncertain, but our agent in Alexandria had already
advised us that the Oriental was becoming more and more fastidious
regarding his fire-arms. In our desperation I thought of Cuba, which, on
account of the poverty of the insurgents, we had hitherto not
considered. The details of the transaction do not matter. Sufficient to
say that in a few days after the suggestion was made, an agreement was
entered into with the Cuban agents that if 2000 stand of arms were
delivered at a specified point on the coast of Cuba at a certain time,
we would be paid in gold then, and not before. It was a strange
contract. The sale was illegal, as the belligerency of the insurgents
was not recognized, and the risk of total loss by capture either by our
own revenue-boats or Spanish cruisers was great. To me was assigned the
entire conduct of the affair.

I didn't relish the task. All halcyon dreams about the Spanish main,
coral islands, and hidden treasures, all latent admiration for
picturesque pirates, low raking schooners with tapering masts,
snow-white decks, and "Long Toms" secreted under the long-boats had
evaporated. I was a business man, and assuming the rôle of the
filibustering blockade-runner wasn't exactly in my line. And as the
_Hecuba_, favored at last by a land breeze, crept out of the harbor of
Tampa, Florida, in the darkness of the June night, I watched the lights
of the revenue-steamer ahead, and thoughts of capture, jail, the
disgrace of a trial, either in an American court or before a Spanish
court martial, possessed me, and I wondered why it was that ten years
ago I had a wild longing to pace quarter-decks arrayed in a slashed
doublet, a velveteen cloak, and a pair of uncomfortable big jack-boots,
and yell in a voice of thunder, "Man the tops'l yards. Port your helm.
Run out Long Tom and send a shot across her bows." It occurred to me
that there was just a little bit too much eighteenth-century Captain
Kidd, Sir Henry Morgan sort of romance being mixed up in this business
transaction. I confessed to myself that I had outgrown all interest in
the blockade-running business beyond seeing 2000 rifles safely delivered
to a customer, and $40,000 received therefor. But in the words of the
ship's boy, a runaway street arab from New York, there were others. And
he and the Captain's son, for they were sworn friends by this time,
discussed the chances of the trip from the vantage-ground of the ship's
boat, into which they had clambered.

"D'ye t'ink they'll see us, Chimmie?" asked the Bowery boy, anxiously,
for it had been impossible to conceal the object of the trip from the
crew.

"I don't know. I hope they do," answered the youngster, who had often
been on voyages with his father, and knew the sailing-qualities of the
_Hecuba_. "This breeze is going to freshen, and we're nearly out of the
bay. Father will show those revenue-steamers a thing or two."

"If dey catch us, will we be hung to de yard-arm, way dey say in de
books?" inquired the street arab, whose first voyage it was.

"Perhaps," cheerfully answered Jimmie; and with a son's unbounded faith
in his father, he continued: "But they won't catch us. The worst is that
they may get close enough to see who we are, and then there will be
trouble when we come back."

"Den yer old man had better be a pirate. Dat's de way dey allus
does--get into trouble in dere own country, and den go piratin' in de
Spanish main after gold gallons," suggested the ex-newsboy.

Jimmie said, in an apologetic tone, as if it were a blight on the
character of his parent, that the skipper, as he called his father, in
imitation of the sailors, wasn't exactly cut out for a pirate. He wasn't
blood-thirsty enough, and mentioned several other drawbacks, much to the
credit of Captain Wade. And then there was an intense discussion as to
what they would do if they were captain and mate of the schooner
_Hecuba_. How they would get a beautiful coral island with only savages
on it, whom they would first kill, and then utilize the island for
burying treasure, imprisoning captive maidens of ancient Castilian
lineage, and holding rich grandees for ransom. The blood-thirsty little
wretches had just determined that I should be their first prisoner, and
was to be held for a ransom that would have bankrupted half the arms
factories of Connecticut, when the voice of the Captain could be heard
in sharp command:

"Ease her off and lay low. Cover up the binnacle light!" And in the
darkness we could see the point of the land we were hugging over the
port bow.

"They see us. They see us!" excitedly said Jimmie.

I looked, and felt a sick feeling in my heart as I saw the lights of the
revenue-steamer slowly moving toward us.

"We're right at the mouth of the harbor," I could hear Jimmie whisper.
"With this wind, she's a good one if she catches us."

In a few seconds I could feel the heavy swell of the Gulf of Mexico; and
the _Hecuba_, with her canvas spread like huge wings that looked
weirdlike in the darkness, sped before the wind. I felt, indeed, that
Jimmie was right--the steamer would be a good one if she caught us. And
she didn't catch us. But Yankee revenue-steamers are not easily run away
from, and it was only after we had steered a course that led the
government boat to believe that we were making for Jamaica did she
abandon the chase. We were then far out of our course, and I now had the
additional anxiety as to whether we would be able to make Cuba in the
appointed time. Slowly we beat up against adverse winds, practically
retracing our course for miles, until at last we sighted the
war-stricken island, with only two days left to make the little bay
named as the rendezvous with the Cuban agents. The elements then seemed
to rise up against us, for a storm came up in the evening with tropical
vehemence, and the sturdy little _Hecuba_ was compelled, with infinite
peril, to seek the shelter of one of the numerous bays along the Cuban
coast. For two days and nights the storm raged with such fury that it
would have been madness to venture forth. We saw on the second night far
out to sea an ironclad, which the Captain's night glass showed to be one
of the fastest of the Spanish cruisers guarding the coast. We took the
small crumb of comfort that it was an ill wind that blew nobody good.

'Twas the afternoon of the second day. The violence of the gale had
spent itself that morning, and by noon had moderated into a gentle
breeze, although a heavy sea was still running. It was the day that I
was to have met the Cuban agents, and it was maddening to think that the
place of meeting was only a few hours' run from where we were idly
lying. I begged the Captain to venture forth, but he gravely handed me
his powerful glass and pointed to a speck on the horizon. I looked, and
saw the funnels of the Spanish cruiser that had passed us the night
before.

"We shall have to wait for darkness," he said. "It would be worse than
folly to try it now. I must turn in for a spell. I haven't had a wink of
sleep for forty-eight hours," and he disappeared into his cabin.

I was not the only discontented being on board the _Hecuba_. The two
boys resented the delay also, and having been kept below during the
storm like prisoners, longed for action. They soon had excitement
enough, however, to suit even their temperaments.

"Sharks!" screamed Jimmie, disturbing the drowsy sailor of the
dog-watch, as he eagerly looked over the rail at a lot of plashing fins
and swaying tails.

"S' help me!" said his companion. "Is dem de t'ings dat follies ships
and swallers people?"

"No," said the sailor, coming up and contemptuously looking at the
school of sharks, whose long tails were making the water boil and bubble
as if a submerged volcano were in active operation. "They're just
thrasher sharks, and they're playin'."

"But they'd eat a fellow," said the ship's boy, and he threw a piece of
wood at one under the bow.

"No, they won't," said the sailor. "A swingle-tail, as some calls 'em,
won't hurt anybody. Though some says a whole school will sometimes
tackle a whale and kill it; but I don't believe it. A thrasher shark is
all play. The only trouble they make is when they get into fishermen's
nets, and with those long tails of theirs slash around and tear and
tangle everything up. They look big, but, you see, they run mostly to
tail. Tail and all, they're between twelve and fifteen feet long, and
weigh about 400 pounds. They make a good fight if caught on the hook."

It must have been half an hour afterwards when my absorbing thoughts
about the affairs of Henderson, Burt, & Co., the undelivered rifles, and
impending ruin were interrupted by a sudden splash at the stern. I
looked over and saw that the two young scapegraces, taking advantage of
the Captain's absence and the sleepiness of the watch, had lowered one
of the _Hecuba_'s boats.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Going to fish for sharks," answered Jimmie. "They are over
there"--pointing a few hundred yards away. "We've got a shark hook and
line, and the cook gave us a piece of pork for bait." And he held up a
most portentous-looking hook, with about three feet of chain attached to
prevent the teeth of the shark from severing it. In my ignorance of the
ways of the sea, I didn't realize the danger. The big rolling waves made
the _Hecuba_ roll and pitch as she tugged at her anchor-chains, and I
anxiously watched the daring young fishermen. When clear of the schooner
they shipped the mast, and in a few minutes they were in pursuit of the
sharks under full sail. I saw Jimmie throw out the line, but still they
scudded on in the heavy sea. What happened then will never be accurately
known. Whether it was that the tremendous tug at the line when the shark
swallowed the hook made the youngsters lose their heads and forget
everything--sail, sea, and a sudden puff of wind that came up--in their
intense desire to secure it, neither can say. The probabilities are that
the tiller being abandoned, as both boys held on to the line, the boat
swung into the trough of the sea, the sheet got caught in some way, and
the sudden puff of wind capsized the boat in the midst of the exciting
struggle.

I had watched the accident, and soon Captain and crew were on deck. As I
looked into the pale, tense features of the Captain as he quickly gave
his orders, I thought he was going on a hopeless errand. But no! Two
figures appeared on the bottom of the capsized boat, and a cheer went
forth from every throat. They would be saved yet. As if to add intensity
to the scene, the wind rose in fitful gusts and a huge bank of clouds
rolled up in the sky. Something had gone wrong with the gearing or
tackle of the second boat, which was seldom, if ever, used; and I fairly
trembled with anxiety as the valuable minutes passed, and looked at the
boys clinging to the bottom of the boat as it was tossed on a huge wave.
But, in Heaven's name! what were the boys doing? What did it mean? Were
they mad? By everything that was sane, they were still holding on to the
line.

[Illustration: OUT OF THE GATHERING DARKNESS CAME A YAWL MANNED BY TWO
MEN.]

"Cut away the tackle!" at last roared the Captain, maddened by the
delay, and noting the actions of the boys. It was done, and with a rush
the boat went down almost stern first, and half filled with water. I
felt that the fate of the boys was now sealed. With a water-logged boat
in that sea it would be impossible to cover the four hundred yards to
where the boys were still clinging tenaciously to the line. Jimmie was
standing up holding the line with both hands, in the position almost of
"the anchor" in a tug-of-war, and the ship's boy, extended on his
stomach along and astride the boat, held the line with his right hand,
while his left grasped the keel. Shark-fishing may be exciting, but
that the excitement was so great that one should court certain death was
hard to understand. I could hardly believe the evidence of my eyes, and
I screamed at the top of my voice, "Let go! Let go!" in the vain hope
that I might be heard. It was only a few minutes, but it seemed hours,
as the crew alongside bailed out the water. It would be too late. The
positions of the two lads showed they were almost exhausted. They
couldn't hold out much longer. If they let go there was yet time, but
they seemed to hold on as if their lives depended upon it. The end
couldn't be far off. The eyes of every one on deck were fixed on the
boys, when off to the left we saw, coming out of the gathering darkness,
a yawl manned by two men. It seemed almost ghostlike. But with
split-sail bellowing out before the wind, she raced on. The men bailing
in the boat relinquished their efforts as they watched the yawl steer
straight for the capsized boat. As they approached we saw one man move
forward to the bow. There was some weapon in his hand. And as the boys
apparently gave one last despairing tug at the line, the thrasher shark
in its agony gave a leap out of the water, but before its somersault was
completed a harpoon quivered in its side. Almost at the same time the
sail was lowered, the yawl was run alongside the capsized boat, and men
and boys helped to manage the dying struggles of the shark. Instead of
making immediately for the _Hecuba_, the Cubans, for such we could see
they were, seemed to be questioning the lads as they anxiously pointed
to the schooner. In a few minutes one of the men threw his cap in the
air, and a cry that sounded like "Cuba libre!" was wafted on the breeze.
It was too heavy a sea to tow the capsized boat, so, hoisting sail, they
ran under the stern of the _Hecuba_.

"Well, we got the shark," said Jimmie, in a more cheerful tone than his
dilapidated appearance warranted, as the boys and one of their rescuers
clambered on deck. Captain Wade walked up to the Cuban, and there was a
moist look in his eyes as he took his hand. "He is my only child," we
heard him say, and everybody understood.

"Oh!" said Jimmie, turning to me as he went below. "That gentleman from
Cuba says he knows you. He wanted to know all about the _Hecuba_ before
he would come on board. You see, the Spanish flag we're flying made him
nervous like," and Jimmie and his accomplice in trouble-making
disappeared. When Captain Wade presented me to the Cuban--who seemed by
his bearing to be a man of consequence--as the agent of the patriots
whom I was to meet, I thought that if there was such a thing as luck in
the affairs of Henderson, Burt, & Co., it was not all necessarily bad.
And I inwardly blessed troublesome boys and distinguished Cuban rebels
who would run risk of capture and execution by rescuing a pair of
youngsters from drowning in sight of what they supposed was a Spanish
revenue-schooner. They told me that what with the presence of the
Spanish cruiser and no sign of our schooner, they had thought that
further waiting at the rendezvous was both useless and dangerous, and it
explains their appearance at such an opportune moment.

When the arms were landed and hidden in a dense jungle, and several bags
of gold were snugly lying in the Captain's locker, my views on
blockade-running, boys, and things in general underwent a radical
change. I even began to have a tender feeling towards sharks,
particularly thrasher sharks who lure boys into getting rescued by Cuban
officers. And I mentally retracted all the then harsh things I had
thought about the folly of holding on to a shark from the bottom of an
upturned boat in a heavy sea. I asked the ragged young ship's boy why he
held on so long.

"Hold on!" he said. "Why, I couldn't help it. When we upset, Chimmie's
foot got tangled in de line, and it tied round his ankle. Hold on? Guess
I did. Chimmie'u'd be voyagin' round after dat shark now as dead as a
Baxter Street herrin' if we hadn't. Course I held on!"




A LOYAL TRAITOR.

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

BY JAMES BARNES.


CHAPTER II.

A DEFERRED SOLUTION.

It was very early the next morning when we started northward along the
turnpike. The doctor and I were driving in a tall chaise that swayed on
its hinges like a small-boat in a tide-rip.

Mr. Edgerton followed on horseback. The sun had not risen when I had
been awakened, and the morning chill was in the air; a mist hung low
over the marshes, and the waters of the bay looked dull and cold. I had
begun to shiver, and the kind physician threw a heavy cape around me,
and tucked me in carefully beside him.

We had not spoken, except for a morning's greeting, but now he began a
fire of questions, and I could not answer even the simplest. I had never
heard that my mother was a widow before her marriage to the man whose
name I bore; I did not know her maiden name, nor where she came from;
and if I was not born at the plantation on the Gunpowder, my birthplace
was a mystery to me; for, as I have said, my first recollection was the
warm day on the beach.

My mother had told me nothing from which I could formulate a suggestion
or give a reply that would throw any light upon my family history. What
was to become of me I did not know. Apparently my mother had left no
will, and my appearance upon the day of her conversation with Mr.
Edgerton had interrupted, probably, any disclosures which she had
intended making.

The lawyer had ridden alongside of the chaise as we slowly ascended a
slight hill.

"Know you anything, Master Hurdiss, of a large iron-bound chest in a
room on the second story of Marshwood House?" (I have forgotten to say
that the estate upon which we lived was known in the neighborhood as the
"Marshwood plantation," whether from the name of a previous owner or its
location, I have never been able to ascertain.)

To the lawyer's question I could only reply that I had often seen the
box and had once caught a glimpse of the interior, that it was full of
papers, and I had noticed it must have contained some money, for I saw
my mother take some gold pieces from a heavy leather bag that she had
afterwards replaced.

"Never mind; we will solve it all," continued the man of law, "so soon
as we get there. I have the keys. Come, doctor, press ahead!"

The horses lurched forward into a trot--we had now reached the top of
the hill--and tired and sleepy, I leaned back on my kind friend's
shoulder and fell asleep.

When I awakened the sun was high, but the chill was yet in the air, and
a damp breeze had sprung up from the eastward that presaged rain. Aloft
against the heavy clouds a V-shaped line of wild-geese were winging
their way to the south; their coarse honking fell down to us. The sound
caused me to look upward, and I followed the steady flight. I have
always been well versed in the signs of nature, and there is nothing so
sure to judge by as the flight of wild-fowl.

"We are going to have cold weather," I remarked to the doctor.

"Yes, the old gander is setting a pace for them as if the snow were
after him," he replied.

To my surprise, as I gazed about near to hand, I saw that we were almost
at the cross-roads, where it was our intention to stop and procure
something to eat, as we had had nothing since the gray of morning.

Two or three new houses had been added to the group that lined the
road-side, and a new sign-post waved its arms at the corner. A number of
negroes hurried out and took the horses.

As we entered the low-ceilinged front room of the tavern I overheard the
talk that the doctor and lawyer were having together. "It was certainly
most careless to leave such property unguarded," the latter was saying.
This made me listen.

"But no one would suspect anything in the way of treasure, and they are
honest people hereabouts," returned the doctor reassuringly.

For some reason I could scarcely swallow a mouthful of the meal that was
served for us, although it smelt most savory. As a special honor the
landlord himself insisted upon waiting upon the table, and I shrewdly
suspect, putting things together, that he was of a curious nature, and
longed for a chance to listen to the conversation; but if this was his
desire, it was not gratified, as the doctor and the lawyer were most
reserved in his presence.

At last, however, we were on the move again, a fresh horse having been
placed in the shafts of the old rattle-trap (upon the possession of
which, by-the-way, I found that the doctor prided himself most
mightily). Well, off we went at a tremendous pace, the new horse
charging down the road in a clumsy, heedless fashion, and the chaise
rocking behind him fit to capsize us.

The doctor at last succeeded in pulling the nag down to a steadier gait,
and Mr. Edgerton, coughing and choking, came trotting up beside us
through the trailing cloud of dust that, despite the damp, hung in our
wake. For two miles we drove on in silence, and then turned from the
main road into the lane that led to Marshwood. The old-fields on either
hand were grown breast-high with brambles, and the lane wheel-rucks were
almost hidden in the tall grass that swished softly and quietly under
the box of the chaise.

Marshwood House was built partly of brick and partly of wood. The brick
had come from England at the time when the colonies, because of the tax
on industries mayhap, brought even their building material from over the
water. It had once been very handsome, but during the Revolution the
outbuildings had been destroyed, and the right wing of the house had
fallen into sad decay. By the expenditure of some not inconsiderable
sum, however, the whole estate could have been restored to the beauty it
must once have possessed (but alas! that never has or never will happen,
I suppose). Now, at the time of which I speak, ruin was writ on
everything.

When the horses had been tied to two rusty staples driven into the trunk
of an oak-tree that stood before the door, we all stepped up on to the
piazza. The boards were sagged so badly that they had fallen away from
the body of the house, and even the stone-work had crumbled along the
foundations.

It appeared like the old place, and yet it was not; but there was the
same hornets' nest that I had watched building up (ages and ages ago, it
seemed to me); and there, hanging on a nail, was a fishing-rod with a
rusty iron hook dangling from a bit of rotten fish-line. I had stood on
tiptoe and put it there; now I could touch it with my elbow.

The lawyer had some difficulty in opening the door. However, at last he
succeeded, and gave a sigh of relief as he saw that there were no traces
of any one having preceded him.

"Come in, doctor," he said, cheerily, his voice echoing oddly down the
empty hallway.

"Come on, John, my son," reiterated the physician to me.

I turned, before I crossed the threshold, and looked out over the
sloping meadow and the stretch of yellow marsh to the blue-gray waters
of the Chesapeake. The rain that had been threatening all the morning
had begun to fall with that depressing, sun-filtered drizzle that
promises hours of it.

It was on such a day that I used to lie with my head in my mother's lap
while she read to me. I remembered this with a certain calmness, for
there had settled upon me a firmly assured belief that I should never be
happy again, and I accepted the feeling with a stoicism that now I
wonder at. But my pen runs from the main task of putting facts on paper.
To return:

I entered the house, and insensibly caught the doctor's great hand in
mine.

There was a musty, locked-up odor greeting us that checked full
breathing. The big room on the right smelt like a cellar, dank and
unhealthy.

The doctor drew aside a chair, and, opening a window and the shutters,
admitted some light. Dust was all about, everywhere; the heavy oak
centre table was littered with dead, starved flies; the whole place was
so chill and unhomelike that I shuddered. The doctor closed the window.

"By Jove, it grows cold!" he said.

The lawyer, who had deposited a pair of large empty saddle-bags on the
floor, stamped his feet.

"Heigho!" he cried, "let's cheer things up a bit. Here's a fire all
ready for the lighting; that's a godsend."

In the wide fireplace were some good-sized logs and a handful of
fat-wood. Drawing a flint and steel, he struck a light, and soon a tiny
blaze crept up the old chimney, and broadened with a burst of flame at
last into a cheerful, roaring, warming glow. It cleared the room of its
unhealthiness, and all three of us spread our hands out to it as if it
had been winter.

"I think the look of things has made us exaggerate the weather," said
the doctor, with an attempt at a laugh. "Come, let's set to work."

The lawyer drew from his pocket a small bunch of keys. "We will have to
try for it--they're not numbered," he replied, thrusting one into the
keyhole of the desk in the chimney-corner.

He tried them all before he found one that would fit. Then he turned the
bolt with a sharp click, and lowered the lid. I began to feel excited,
and I could see that the others were and did not conceal it.

"Ah, no one has been here, that's evident!" exclaimed the doctor.

Plain to view in a neat pile were some French coins, a shining little
tower of gold. The lawyer opened one of the drawers on the left. It was
empty. Then another, with the same result. In the bottom one, on the
right hand, however, was a paper and a miniature on ivory. I remembered
the last--the side face of a large, heavy man in a white wig. His nose
was very prominent, and despite the massive jowl he had an air that
suggested the effect of a noble presence. His costume was magnificent.
From beneath a broad sash that crossed his breast peeped a great diamond
star, and lace and jewels decked him.

"An excellent likeness, I judge," said the doctor, looking at the
portrait with one eye shut.

"I should know it across the room," replied the lawyer.

"Who is it?" I asked, for I had seen it once in my mother's hands.

"It is the French King who lost his head by the guillotine," answered
the doctor--"Louis the Sixteenth."

"Did your mother never speak to you about this portrait?" asked the
lawyer, who was untying the ribbon with which the paper had been
fastened.

"Once I saw her looking at it," I replied, "and I asked her. But I never
did so again, because she began to talk so fast and in such strange
words that I could not follow. Then she began to weep, and her hair fell
down all about her. Aunt Sheba came running in and held her in her
arms. It was a long time before she grew calm again. She never told me
who it was."

By this the lawyer had spread the document on his knee. He gave a grunt
of vexation.

"This is Greek to me," he muttered. "See what you can make out of it."

He handed the paper to the doctor. The latter wrinkled his brows and
shrugged his shoulders.

"I give it up," he replied, half smiling.

I peeped beneath his elbow.

"Why, it's French," I said, "and my mother's writing, sir!"

"Can you read it?" asked the doctor, spreading it out on the desk lid.

In reply I began without hesitation:

     "'_To Monsieur Henri Amedee Laralle de Brienne._

      "'DEAR BROTHER,--Although I have not written you and have received
      no word from you, I am writing these lines, trusting and intending
      that they will meet your eye should you survive me. My husband,
      whose memory I cherish, is dead--lost at sea. Despite the
      injustice with which you have treated him, and me also since my
      second marriage, I recommend to you my son, who bears the name of
      his step-father.'"

I started and read the last words over twice.

"Go on!" interjected the lawyer, rapping the mantelpiece sharply with
his knuckles.

I continued, with my face burning and my lips atremble:

     "'For the sake of the name _that he might claim_, and all that it
     may mean, you may receive him. I have told him little of the past.
     In my judgment it was not needed, nor could it now produce anything
     to his favor. If circumstances should alter, you may divulge the
     secret; but I pray you not to do so unless this happens. This I
     beseech you for the sake of her whom you have loved. My son will
     bear with him the chest that contains the papers that I brought
     from the château at A. They will be unopened and addressed to you.
     There is enough money in the two bags to pay for my Jean's
     education. I have never been able to bring myself to talk about the
     dreadful happenings. I cannot even think of them, or I should go
     mad. Somehow it has appeared that silence has been the better part;
     but to your discretion I leave this, and to you I intrust my son's
     future. May God watch over him and direct you! It is evident to me
     from your letter that you were uncertain which one of your sisters
     was writing to you. I am _H. de B._, who inscribes here what will
     be carved upon her tombstone, "_Madam John Hurdiss_, widow of
     Captain John Hurdiss, merchant and trader, of Cornwall, England."'"

This was all the letter contained. It did not seem to lessen any mystery
that existed, and for some minutes neither the doctor nor Mr. Edgerton
spoke a word. Suddenly the latter kicked back one of the logs in the
fireplace with his foot.

"Confound the fire, it smokes like a smudge!" he grumbled. "So we are
not to open the papers, after all! But there may be something lying
loose. Let us up."

[Illustration: "HARK! WHAT NOISE IS THAT?"]

All at once the doctor raised his hand. "Hark! What noise is that?" he
exclaimed.

A roaring crackling sound came from overhead. Something fell heavily on
the floor of the hallway outside. The two men sprang to the door and
pulled it open. The hall and the other rooms were filled with stifling
smoke. The old portrait (the one with the long brown curls) had fallen,
and a blazing bit of wainscoting burned through the canvas that had
smouldered to the frame.

"The strong-box!" shrieked the lawyer, and he plunged up the stairs.

"It's in the room on the right!" I cried, as the doctor and I followed
him, feeling our way with the aid of the banisters.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




TYPICAL ENGLISH SCHOOLS.

BY JOHN CORBIN.


WINCHESTER.

The English public schools are not what we should call public schools at
all--that is, they are not kept up at the public expense, and you can't
go to them without paying. What we call public schools the English call
free schools, and only poor children go to them. The kind of schools I
am going to write about are attended by the sons of the richer people
and of the nobility. They are not unlike the big American schools which
prepare fellows for college--Exeter, Andover, St. Paul's, St. Mark's,
Groton, and others--though they are all much older, and have many quaint
and interesting customs inherited from the Middle Ages. I shall give an
article to each of three of these schools--Winchester, Eton, and
Rugby--and then shall add an article on athletics at public schools in
general.

The oldest of all the schools is Winchester. Fellows at Andover
sometimes tell you that their fathers and grandfathers went there before
them. At Winchester this is a common case; and since the quadrangles of
the college were built, there has been time not for one grandfather but
for fifteen in a line. The prim and charming buildings look every day as
old as they are; but if you were to go into the dormitories and see the
rows of little iron bedsteads, each with a boy sleeping in it, you would
find it hard to realize that grandfathers of these boys have slept at
Winchester for five hundred years back, and that all our grandfathers
began by being young and small enough to sleep in these cots.

The founder of the school was William of Wykeham, Bishop of the See of
Winchester, who was not only a great bishop and a great statesman, but
one of the greatest builders of the Middle Ages. His purpose in founding
a school was to prepare boys to enter a college he had just founded at
Oxford--New College, as it was called, and is still called after more
than five hundred years. At both Winchester and New College the scholars
are proud to call themselves Wykehamists; and when a fellow has been
through both he is apt to tell you that he is a Wykehamist of the
Wykehamists--which means more than you can ever understand until you
hear and see a man say it. The first result of preparing boys to enter
the university was to make them too far advanced for the teaching they
found when they got there. To carry on their education Wykeham had to
have a special body of tutors at New College. This was the beginning of
the English custom of having a complete set of teachers at each of the
score of colleges that make up a university. Thus Winchester is not only
the father of all preparatory schools, but of the English university
system of instruction by colleges.

Wykeham intended that all his scholars should be too poor to pay for
their own education, and left funds to support them. Within the last
generation, however, the masters have changed this. In order to get the
cleverest possible pupils, they examine all boys between twelve and
fourteen, and admit the best ones each year. About eight usually fail
for one who gets in. The boys who succeed are, of course, those who have
had the best training; and thus the fellows who get the benefit of
Wykeham's money are usually sons of university graduates, and are often
rich. Many people object strongly to this, and with good reason; yet the
method has one great virtue. Fellows get almost as much credit in school
for being studious and able, as for playing football; so that many of
the richest fellows study hardest. In our schools, and even in our
universities, there is still a stupid prejudice against being a
first-rate scholar.

Within the school also there is keen competition. The five or six best
students each year get scholarships at New College, which enable them to
go through the university without expense to themselves. This is called
"getting New," and is perhaps the greatest achievement of a Wykehamist.
That such has been the case for at least two hundred years may be seen
in the epitaph of a boy who died in 1676 from being hit by a stone, "In
this school he stood first, and we hope he is not the last in heaven,
where he went, instead of Oxford." When such is the case, there would
seem to be little need of the motto on the wall of the old school, which
Wykehamists translate, "Work, walk, or be wopped."

Beside the members of the "college" Wykeham founded, another kind of
pupils has grown up, called commoners, who pay for lodging, board, and
tuition--about $700 a year. These, at first few and unimportant, have
increased so greatly of late that they are usually regarded as the
characteristic kind of school-boy. They live in nine communities, or
houses, of about thirty-five each, under separate masters. The life of
the commoners is almost exactly the same as that of the collegians; but
the division into those who are and those who are not supported by the
college is worth remembering, for a similar distinction exists not only
in all public schools, but in the colleges at Oxford and Cambridge. It
does not happen everywhere, however, that the best scholars all live
together; and many Wykehamists maintain that both scholars and commoners
would gain by being mingled. Before many years the old college will
doubtless be broken up, and the "scholars" proportioned among the
various "houses."

The discipline is not so strict as at many public schools, yet quite
strict enough, according to American standards. The boys--or _men_, as
they are always called--are not allowed to enter the town, and have to
get special "leave out" to go far into the country. The school day
begins at seven o'clock, and bed-time comes at nine or ten. Constant
attendance at prayers is required, morning and night; and there are four
services on Sunday. For breaches of discipline the boys are still
flogged. One is tempted to say that such a system is not modern; but as
a matter of fact, it did not exist, among the commoners, at least, until
the present century; and no true Wykehamist would think of changing it.
Even the boys like it sincerely, in spite of some few breaches of
discipline. Certainly the strictness has no more faults than the great
freedom granted by certain of our large preparatory schools; and though
we should hardly want to live just as English boys do, we can learn a
great deal from them.

The main idea of the discipline of an English school is that as much of
it as possible shall be carried on by the boys themselves. At Winchester
it was ordained from the beginning that eighteen of the older boys
should, in Wykeham's own words, "oversee their fellows, and from time to
time certify the masters of their behavior and progress in study." These
eighteen are called Prefects, and are chosen from the men who stand
highest in studies. To an American boy, I am afraid, it wouldn't seem
much fun to have to take care of his schoolmates' behavior. He would
probably look upon himself more or less as a spy. Yet everything I saw
at Winchester went to prove that to be a Prefect was almost as great an
honor as to be an athlete. Five of the Prefects have special titles,
such as Prefect of Chapel, Prefect of Hall, etc. These are generally
chosen from the five best scholars. The Prefect of Hall has charge not
only of his special duties, but of the other Prefects. If any
disturbance takes place, he quells it. If the boys have any favors to
ask, he is their spokesman. He is thus the head of the whole school, and
a far more important person, I should say, than the Captain of the
cricket team.

An incident occurred in 1838 which well illustrates the power of a
Prefect. A peddler insisted on bringing various contraband articles,
among them liquor, to sell to the boys on their recreation-grounds. The
Prefects remonstrated time and again, with no effect. At last five of
them seized him and threw him, basket and all, into the river. The
peddler had the Prefects arrested and tried for assault with intent to
kill, and the magistrate fined them fifty dollars each. This fine the
college paid willingly, complimenting the Prefects for their zeal and
common-sense. The spirit which prompted both masters and pupils exists
to-day, not only at Winchester, but at all public schools. The result is
that not only is order maintained without ill feeling between masters
and pupils, but the eighteen Prefects of each year learn to fill posts
requiring unusual tact, common-sense, and courage.

The duty of a Prefect which an American would least envy is that of
inflicting bodily punishment--"tunding," as it is called in Winchester
slang. This consists in beating the culprit across the back of his
waistcoat with a ground-ash the size of one's finger. The art of
"tunding," an old Prefect of Hall informed me, was to catch the edge of
the shoulder-blade with the rod, and strike in the same spot everytime.
In this way, he said, it was possible to cut the back of a waistcoat
into strips. In the early part of the century flogging was of more than
daily occurrence. An old Wykehamist states that on the day of his
arrival at school there were 198 boys in residence and 279 names
reported for punishment. Nowadays, however, only a score or so of cases
occur each year; and many boys go through the school without being
tunded.

A characteristic case occurred during my stay at Winchester. A party of
small boys had been invited to a strawberry feast in the rooms of one of
the dons, and seeing a group of Prefects in the court below, had been
unable to resist the temptation. First a rotten strawberry splashed on
the flint at the feet of the Prefects, and then a storm descended. This
was too much for Prefectorial dignity to bear. The good don's strawberry
feast ended in a general tunding. The Prefect of Hall described this to
me next day with quiet satisfaction; and, later, the don spoke of the
case as characteristic of the best effects of the Prefectorial system.
As host, he said, he had not been able to interfere; and except for
school-boy discipline, the culprits would have escaped. The wife of one
of the masters, however, said it was a brutal shame, and that if she had
her way with those Prefects, she would throw strawberries at them.

Such a system leaves little for the masters to do, yet a boy sometimes
carries his case to the higher court, though he does it at the risk of
great unpopularity. Some years ago two Seniors, having a grudge against
another boy, employed two Juniors, at ninepence a head, to give him a
beating. The Prefects very naturally objected to this method of doing
one's dirty work, and ordered all four to be tunded. One of the Senior
culprits lost courage when he found how hard it was going with his
companion, and appealed to the master on the plea that the ground-ash
was too large. The master declared that the ground-ashes were "proper
good ground-ashes," and proceeded to wear them out on him.

[Illustration: A DORMITORY.]

[Illustration: A STUDENT'S STUDY.]

[Illustration: "HORSE-BOXES" AND "WASHING-STOOLS."]

[Illustration: AT THE GATE OF CHAMBER COURT.]

[Illustration: CHAPEL AND PART OF DORMITORIES.]

The details of daily life at Winchester are not easy to understand. The
"college," as, in fact, each of the "houses," is divided into chambers
or "shops," as the boys call them. In each of these lives a community of
say a dozen boys, over which three Prefects preside. The sleeping-rooms
are locked up, except at night. In the study-room each boy has a desk,
which he calls his "horse-box." The Prefects have tables, placed in
commanding positions. These are called "washing-stools." In the college
there are seven chambers, occupying "Chamber Court," the main
quadrangle; and all about are ranged the domestic buildings belonging to
the college--the slaughter-house, the bake-house, the kitchen, and the
brew-house. In Chamber Court also are the rooms occupied by the masters
and their families, and the magnificent college dining-hall and chapel.
All these buildings stand to-day almost precisely as they were built
five hundred years ago--that is, a hundred years before Columbus
discovered America--with this difference, that the flint walls are so
stained by time that they reflect the sunshine in many subdued and
mellow shades.

There are, however, a few relics of dead customs. At one side of the
court you will find the remains of the ancient conduit. Here, on the
stone pavement and in the open air, five centuries of boys have taken
their morning baths, summer and winter. Bathing could not always,
however, be as regular as in these days when travelling Englishmen pack
their clothes in leather-covered bath-tubs instead of in a trunk. A
dozen years ago bath-rooms were fitted up within-doors, in rooms
formerly occupied by learned Fellows of the College. On a wall is the
painting of the "Trusty Servant," with its verses.

The old lavatory of the college was called "Moab," while the
shoe-blacking place was called "Edom." I wonder how many American
school-boys are as familiar as those old English boys must have been
with the Psalm that says "Moab is my wash-pot; over Edom will I cast out
my shoe." The ancient brew-house in outer court is still used, but when
I took luncheon in Hall with the Prefects they rather sniffed at the
beer made in it. Under King William, however, it inspired this song:

  Now let us all, both great and small,
    With voice both loud and clear,
  Right merrily sing, Live Billy our King!
    For 'bating the tax upon beer.
    For I likes my drop of good beer;
    For I likes my drop of good beer.
  So whene'er I goes out I carries about
    My little pint bottle of beer.

To my taste the beer was very good, and not too strong. Perhaps it is a
sign of the good sense of Wykehamists that they preferred water or
milk.

One might also class fagging, with which all readers of _Tom Brown_ are
familiar, with the dead and dying customs. It is limited to a few simple
offices. A Senior still sends small boys on errands, and sometimes makes
him cook and wash bottles at private feasts in chambers. Every evening,
too, when the post comes in, the porter of the college brings it to
Chambers Court, and at a signal the junior of each chamber to get what
belongs to his fellows. In olden times, in order to accustom the fags to
handling hot dishes, the Seniors would sometimes score their hands with
glowing fagots. This provided them with "tin gloves." A more amusing bit
of barbarity was the "toe fittee," pronounced _tofy-tie_. This consisted
in tying a string about a boy's great toe while he lay asleep. Then the
string was violently pulled, and the boy was drawn out of his bed to his
tormentor's side. Sometimes two or three would be brought from different
parts of a chamber to the same point. In America I have often known a
boy to tie a string about his own toe, and hang it out of the window so
that a friend might wake him up to go out fishing; but that is a
different thing.

For pure ingenuity the so-called "scheme" bears the palm. It was always
the duty of a certain luckless Junior to wake the Prefect at an early
hour every morning, and if he overslept he was of course tunded.
Noticing that the night candle always burned to a certain point at this
hour, some nameless fag invented the plan of hanging a hat-box over his
head by a string, and connecting the string with this point of the
candle by a rude fuse. He thus made sure that the hat-box would fall on
his head at the required hour. Under this sword of Damocles he could, of
course, sleep in peace without fear of flogging.

The terrible stories of flogging and fagging, however, really belong to
the past. Unless I am very much mistaken, life at Winchester, in spite
of an occasional tunding, is much pleasanter and better regulated than
in most of our schools. The fact that the Prefects enforce most of the
discipline makes it possible for the masters to get very near to the
hearts of their pupils; and, above all, the English boys are fortunate
in the fact that the wives and daughters of the Masters live with them
in the same quadrangle. To speak of Winchester without telling about the
wife of the second Head Master, and how fond of her big boys and little
boys, good boys and bad boys are, would be to leave the part of Hamlet
out of the play. Many are the gawky boys whom she has put at ease among
people, and many the bad boys whom she has set right. One of the
pleasantest things I saw at Winchester was a lot of Oxford men who had
come back to her during vacation just to hear her call them Smith,
Brown, and Robinson.

The stamp of men Winchester produces is as distinct from all others as a
St. Paul's man is different from one from Exeter. The ideal toward which
the school is working was well expressed by one of the Head Masters. "I
consider that those boys who issue from the top of the school--_i.e._,
those upon whom the highest influences of the school have been brought
to bear--are boys who ... carry into life a stamp, not of a very showy
kind, but distinguished by a self-reliance, a modesty, a practical good
sense, and strong religious feeling--that religious feeling being of a
very moderate traditional and sober kind which, in my judgment, is
beyond all price."




HOW TO USE A PIANO.

BY W. J. HENDERSON.


"As we journey through life, let us live by the way," is a very old
saying to which many interpretations have been given. To me its
pleasantest significance is that we should try to make life a constant
delight. There is nothing better for this purpose than kindly
intercourse with friends, but as we grow older we find that a circle of
agreeable acquaintances cannot be maintained simply on a conversational
basis. We must offer our friends inducements to come and see us; in
other words, we must entertain in some form. Most boys and many girls
are alarmed by the word "entertain." The girls are less afraid of it
than the boys, because they have an inborn desire and a natural talent
for social pleasures. But they are often puzzled as to the best means of
arranging entertainments. Everything seems so difficult for a girl to
undertake without a great deal of assistance from her mother, and
frequently that assistance robs her of all feeling of personal
proprietorship in the entertainment.

"It was called my party," she says, "but really mamma did everything."

Now I wish to offer a suggestion or two to girls about a form of
entertainment which is easily arranged. There are very few homes in this
civilized land which do not contain pianos, and there are very few girls
who cannot play a little. Even if you cannot play difficult music you
can give a musical, and make it a really artistic and enjoyable
entertainment. In the first place, then, let us talk about the piano.
Two or three days before your musical is to take place you should have
the instrument tuned, for you cannot make music agreeable to your guests
if the piano is out of tune. And here let me offer a few suggestions
about keeping it in tune. The most important requirement is equality of
temperature. Therefore your piano should not stand where the heat of a
grate or a steam radiator will affect one end of it more than the other,
nor should it be so situated that a draught from a leaky window will
blow on one end. It ought to be placed so that it will be affected only
by the general temperature of the room, and that ought not to have an
extreme range. If you hear loud cracks coming from your piano at times,
as if something had snapped, lookout; the chances are that the
sounding-board is warping, or something equally undesirable is
happening, and it is probably due to the influence of temperature. If
you wish to keep a piano in the very best order, do not pile books or
music or any other heavy objects on its lid.

When preparing for your musical, bear these suggestions in mind. You
will in all likelihood be obliged to move your piano out of its
customary position, for nine times out of ten that is one which would
make you sit with your back squarely to your audience. You should not do
this; but when you move the instrument, do not put it where it will be
injured. In giving a musical, bear in mind that the player is to be the
centre on which all eyes are focussed. If the piano is a grand, place it
so that its right side will be toward the audience, but running a little
obliquely, so that the keyboard will be visible, or partly so, to those
on the right side of the room. The position of a square or an upright
should be similar, but you may with advantage turn an upright so that
the keyboard is more in view. If the room is very large, you may raise
the lid of a grand half-way. Do not raise it all the way just because
you have seen concert performers do so. That is necessary only in a
large public hall. If your drawing-room is small, do not raise the lid
at all.

Now you must have light for your music. The prettiest way is to set a
tall standing-lamp a little to your left and a little behind you. Never
place it on your right, because that would be between you and the
audience. If you have not a standing-lamp, a pedestal or a table with an
ordinary lamp will do quite as well. Do not set a light on the piano. It
does not look well, in the first place, and in the second it is likely
to rattle. It will add much to the effect of the picture if you surround
the base of your lamp with roses and smilax, and it is also pretty to
have some smilax twined around the scroll-work of the music-stand. In
arranging the seats for your guests, you will naturally have to be
guided by consideration of the number you expect. I should advise you
not to have too many, for that would make it look too much like a public
performance. In placing the seats, try to avoid all appearance of
stiffness, yet endeavor to arrange them so that as many as possible of
your guests will be in front of the piano--by which I mean facing its
right side. But whatever you do, do not set chairs in rows as if it were
a public hall. It looks badly, and it prevents freedom of movement among
your friends between the selections.

And this leads me to another important suggestion. Whatever your
programme may be, it should be short, and it should have at least one
intermission. Two would be better. In those intermissions you should
encourage conversation, and try to induce your guests to move about and
change their seats. You might have lemonade served in one intermission.
Let the boys pass it around. That starts both movement and conversation.
I suppose I need hardly suggest that, if the words of your friends are
too complimentary to your playing, you can lead them to comment on the
beauty of the music. But I do believe that the girls will forgive me if
I say "dress plainly." A musician should never do anything to attract
attention to his person at the expense of his art. Wear a simple gown,
and avoid all mannerisms or affectations in playing.

But now I hear some girl saying, "I can't play well enough to give a
musical." That depends on what you regard as good playing. If you think
it means performing difficult and showy pieces, you are mistaken. That
kind of playing may astonish your friends, but it will not give them
such genuine pleasure as the performance of a few comparatively easy
compositions of real beauty in a sympathetic manner. Here the majority
of girls will meet with their greatest difficulty, for I am sorry to say
that many music-teachers ignore the easy pieces of the great masters,
and give their pupils as studies the cheap rubbish which litters the
counters of the average music-store. It is a mistake to suppose that the
immortals among composers never wrote anything easy. There are
compositions by Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, and others which can
be performed by players of very moderate ability, and there are easy and
attractive compositions by less ambitious composers, even such as Johann
Strauss, which have much more merit than the brilliant runs and
arpeggios of Sidney Smith, H. A. Wollenhaupt, and that class.

There are several ways in which you can make a programme so as to give
it a special interest beyond that of the music alone, and I should
advise you to adopt some one of these plans. If you are not a brilliant
player, all the more reason for adding interesting features to your
entertainment. If you are an accomplished performer, your musical will
still gain in artistic dignity by an intelligent arrangement of the
programme. Of course there is one thing always to be borne in mind: you
must compose your list of selections so that there will be constant
variety. Do not, for instance, put three or four slow and plaintive
pieces one after the other. As a rule, too, it is well to avoid a
succession of compositions in the same form, such as sonatas, nocturnes,
or valses. Eminent artists make mistakes in these matters. One of the
most distinguished conductors in this country once gave an orchestral
concert consisting of nine overtures. The effect was very bad indeed,
for in spite of the fact that they were all by different composers, they
were not sufficiently dissimilar in form to produce variety.

Keeping in mind, then, the necessity of variety, you can arrange your
programme chronologically--that is, beginning with a very early writer
and coming down to the most recent. Secondly, you can arrange it by
schools, taking some pieces from the polyphonic, some from the classic,
and some from the romantic. Thirdly, you may arrange it according to
nations, giving examples of German, Russian, French, Italian, English,
and American. Fourthly, you may make it representative of one nation;
and fifthly, representative of one composer. The last-named way is not
advisable for any except accomplished performers, because you will find
it practically impossible to make up even a short list of good pieces by
one composer and have them all easy. A programme representative of one
nation may also be chronological, and if you intend to give more than
one musical--say a series of three--this will probably be the most
attractive way. But undoubtedly the neatest way for a single recital
would be the arrangement according to nations, for you will have no
trouble at all in finding a single composition from each country that is
pretty and easy to play. In making out the programme, be careful to give
the full title and, if possible, opus number of the composition, and I
think it always adds to the interest of a programme for young people to
put in the dates of the births and deaths of the composers. If you will
permit me, I will now submit a sample programme on the plan of
representation of nations just to show you how attractive it looks:

         GERMAN.

  1. Sonata No. 33 E-flat (composed when
      eleven years old)                      _Beethoven_ (1770-1827).

         RUSSIAN.

  2. Melody in F                             _Rubinstein_ (1829-1894).

         POLISH.

  3. "Chant du Voyage"                       _Paderewski_ (1860----).

         FRENCH.

  4. "Funeral March of a Marionette"         _Gounod_ (1818-1893).

         ITALIAN.

  5. Gavotte (from violin sonata in F)       _Corelli_ (1653-1713).

         ENGLISH.

  6. Nocturne in E-flat                      _J. Field_ (1782-1837).

         AMERICAN.

  7. "Wood Idyl," from Opus 19               _MacDowell_ (1861----).

I wish to submit for your consideration one more programme, representing
the great schools of music, simply to show you that such a list can be
made of pieces well within the powers of an amateur of ordinary
technical ability.

         POLYPHONIC SCHOOL (1500-1750).

  1. Canzona in seto tono             _Girolamo Frescobaldi_ (1588-1645).

  2. Prelude No 1 from the
      "Well-tempered Clavichord"      _J. S. Bach_ (1685-1750).

         CLASSIC SCHOOL (1750-1827).

  3. Andante and Finale from
      Sonata No. 1                    _W. A. Mozart_ (1756-1791).

  4. Sonata No. 37                    _L. van Beethoven_ (1770-1827).

         ROMANTIC SCHOOL (1821 to the present).

  5. Slow Waltz (from
      "Album Leaves")                 _R. Schumann_ (1810-1856).

  6. "Marche Hongroise"               _Franz Schubert_ (1797-1828).

The compositions embraced in this programme are well within the power of
an amateur of moderate ability.

If, however, you can play more difficult music, your choice will be
extended. Nevertheless, I adhere to my first assertion that it is not at
all troublesome to make up a programme of compositions which may be
classed as easy. And here let me give you some final advice. Select for
a musical at which you are to be the performer music somewhat easier
than that which you are accustomed to study under your teacher. The
reason for doing this is so plain that it is hardly necessary to mention
it. If you are unaccustomed to formal piano-playing before an audience,
you will undoubtedly be nervous. Now if you go to the piano knowing that
the music before you is going to tax your utmost powers, you will be
still more nervous, and the probabilities are that you will not only not
play the music effectively, but that you will play it badly and make
many technical slips. The more you make, the more nervous you will
become, till it would not be surprising if you should break down
altogether. On the other hand, if you are conscious that the music is
well within your powers--that you have technical facility enough and to
spare--you will not be harassed by fears of making blunders, but will
lose all your nervousness as soon as you begin to play and to realize
how easy your work is. Thus instead of being constantly on the watch for
fear of making mistakes, you will be able to devote your entire
attention to giving every phrase the right expression. If you have
carefully studied the musical beauties of each composition, you will no
doubt surprise yourself as well as your friends by the intelligence and
sentiment of your playing. Bear in mind the fact that such great artists
as Paderewski frequently charm and move an audience more by the amount
of color and expression which they throw into easy compositions like
Chopin's E-flat nocturne, while in their more brilliant playing, as in
one of Liszt's Hungarian rhapsodies, they gain applause rather as the
result of amazement at their conquest of technical difficulties than as
the demonstration of sincere delight in the music itself. And now I
shall leave the rest to the girls. I am sure that among the readers of
this paper there must be hundreds and hundreds of girls who can play the
piano well enough to get up such musicals as I have suggested.




[Illustration: THE PYROTECHNIC DISPLAY FROM THE FLOATS.]

THE MARINE DEMONSTRATION IN NEW YORK HARBOR.


The city of New York has one of the finest harbors in the world, and it
invariably invokes a burst of admiration from the observer when he first
sails up through its land-locked entrance, passing the low-lying hills
of Staten Island on his left and Long Island on his right; then past
Governors Island, with its old fort, and the Statue of Liberty, to
approach the densely populated Manhattan Island with its innumerable
tall buildings that testify to the admirable skill of the city's
architects and engineers. The forest of masts that fringe the water's
edge, the saucy puffing tugs towing huge vessels, steamboats,
flat-boats, barges, etc., here and there, and the stately steamships
gliding along, make a very impressive picture.

On the night of October 24 some two hundred of these vessels assisted in
a marine demonstration that took place in the harbor, turning its waters
into a fairy scene that will ever remain in the memory of those that
witnessed it. The men identified with the shipping interests of the
country determined to show their enthusiastic support in the late
campaign for sound money, and to do so, adopted the idea of having a
monster marine parade. Every steam-craft that could be spared was
pressed into service, and on the night of the parade threaded its way up
the Hudson River as far as Grant's Tomb--where the procession
started--and fell into line. Along the river front the piers were
brilliantly lighted up and decorated, and thousands of people gathered
to view the unique spectacle. With a roar of steam-whistles, amidst the
soaring of sky-rockets, and fireworks of every description, the boom of
cannon, and the hoarse cheering of the crowds lining the river's banks,
the parade started, proceeding down the stream in stately procession, a
thing of unusual beauty. Each vessel vied with the others in
illuminating its masts, smoke-stacks, and decks with countless electric
lights and colored lamps. A steady stream of fire trailed from some,
while others set off fireworks. Powerful search-lights from the tall
buildings of the cities threw their strong beams on the fleet. Music
sounded faintly through the blasts of steam-whistles, and the river and
harbor resolved itself into a field of colored fire. The huge office
buildings were brilliantly lighted, and from the windows people watched
the scene.

Arriving off the Battery, the vessels gathered around some floats
anchored there, and completely blocked the harbor as a crowd might a
street. Suddenly these floats became fringed with beautiful colored
fire, and a busy little tug industriously hustled around to various
smaller floats stationed here and there, and lighted a compound on them
that produced a high-leaping flame. Sky-rockets soared from the larger
floats in an incessant stream, bursting high overhead in showers of
exquisitely colored sparks, and streams of bombs shot skyward only to
explode in a downpour of fire. Some flew up to burst and whirl around,
producing an effect of a huge umbrella of sparks.

For an hour the sky rained a stream of gorgeous colored fire in which
even the powerful glare of the search-lights was lost. The bombs
exploded overhead like the rattle of musketry, and through it all the
steam-whistles kept up a steady roar that must have made the farmers far
out in the rural districts uneasy in their sleep. Loudly as the crowds
packed on the decks of the gathered vessels yelled their enthusiasm,
their shouts were completely lost in the screech of whistles. Then came
the prettiest spectacle of the pyrotechnic display. Without any warning,
hundreds of feet overhead, suspended in mid-air between the Battery and
Governors Island, Old Glory floated, a huge flag of red, white, and blue
fire.

  H. E.




SAWDUST WILL TELL.

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.


  I ne'er could understand just how the trouble came about,
  But two of Mollie's dolls one day had quite a falling out.
  They were not ordinary dolls, with dresses and all that,
  But boy dolls both, and one was tall, the other short and fat.
  The way the story comes to me, the rumpus that arose,
  Came from the short doll's stepping on the taller fellow's nose;
  And when he said, "I'm sorry, and regret the episode,"
  The tall doll he retorted: "Oh, your sorriness be blowed!
  Keep both your feet where they belong, and let my nose alone!
  I feel as if I had been hit upon it with a stone;
  And if you'd had a bit of sense, it's plain beyond a doubt,
  The horrible catastrophe could not have come about."
  This made the short doll angry. He apologized, and yet
  The taller would not take a bit of stock in his regret;
  And so he lost his temper, and retorted, very mad,
  "To step upon your nose again I'd really be quite glad."
  The answer was a pair of cuffs upon the short doll's ear.
  The short doll he retorted, without any sign of fear.
  He whacked the tall doll on the eye--I do not claim 'twas right--
  And then there started up a really fearful sort of fight.
  And all the toys were very sure the short doll would be licked,
  He was so very fat, you know; but, oh, how they were tricked!
  The tall one was not in it for a second, and in three
  The short was crowned with laurel, for he'd won the victory.
  And then the secret came out. When they looked about they saw
  The tall one'd never had a chance by any natural law.
  They both were stuffed with sawdust, as are dolls of yours and mine;
  The short was oaken sawdust, and the tall was Georgia pine!
  And in doll-land, as in our land, 'tis always safe to say
  The stronger wins the laurels, he will always wear the bay.
  We say that blood will tell; and in this world of dolls we see
  The sawdust that is best of all will win the victory!




[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]


The Hartford High-School suffered its worst defeat of the season at the
hands of the Hotchkiss School eleven two weeks ago Saturday. Not only
did the Hartford men fail to score against 50 points made by their
opponents, but in the first few moments of play Bush and Strong were
injured so that they were unable to continue in the game. Bush was the
more seriously injured of the two, and will probably not be able to
appear again this season.

[Illustration: HOTCHKISS SCHOOL FOOTBALL ELEVEN.]

Hotchkiss put up a beautiful game. The eleven played so snappily and
with such excellent team-work that Hartford was unable to withstand the
attack, and even if the visitors had not lost their two half-backs, it
is not probable that they could have won, although there is no doubt
that the score would have been smaller. The best gains for Hotchkiss
were made around the ends, their interference being of fine quality.

There seems very little chance now for Hartford in the Connecticut
championship series. Besides the two men laid up in the Lakeville game,
Hartford has also lost Morris, tackle. Marsh will take his place.
Captain Sturtevant will go in as half-back, and Ballerstein will take
Sturtevant's place at quarter. Ballerstein is a good player, but he
lacks weight, and is considerable of an unknown factor for the new
position.

The Hotchkiss School team is an unusually good one this year. Noyes at
full-back plays a steady game and interferes well; he does not buck the
centre quite hard enough, however--a style of play which is being
greatly developed at Hotchkiss this year. Adams and Reynolds are the
half-backs. The former runs well with the ball, plunges strongly through
the centre, and interferes well, but he fumbles on catching kicks.
Reynolds was a substitute on last year's team, and is doing good work
this season. If he could train himself to start more quickly, his
running around the end would be of double value. Fincke at quarter-back
plays a good sharp game, and is considerable of a strategist. He
interferes well, although he is not quite fast enough for the backs.

The line men are all in pretty good condition. Of the two ends, Savage
is the better. He plays a good offensive game, but has the inexcusable
fault of running backward at times when given the ball. His offensive
work is good, and on the defence he is clever at getting into the
interference, but does not always tackle his man. Coy, at right end, is
a new man on the first team, and has not yet learned how to put his
opponent out of the plays every time. He runs well with the ball, but is
only a fair tackler. Montague at right tackle is a veteran; he is still
somewhat slow, however, and does not block fiercely enough, but he may
generally be depended upon to make a good hold when occasion demands.

[Illustration: BERKELEY SCHOOL (N. Y.) FOOTBALL TEAM.]

The weakest spot in the line is probably centre, which is looked after
by Dix, a player who has had no experience until this year, but is doing
remarkably well for a novice. With coaching and practice he will develop
into a strong player. Cook, at right tackle, is good at breaking
through, but is not a capable tackler. His line-work is good; he runs
fairly well with the ball, but he runs too high. Hixon, the captain, has
played on the Hotchkiss team, alternately at guard and centre, ever
since he entered school; his strongest point is in making holes, and a
play put through him by his backs is practically sure of a gain. He runs
powerfully, but too high. He is a conscientious commander, and has good
control of his men.

Following close upon the defeat by Hotchkiss, Hartford was beaten a week
ago Saturday by New Britain, 42-6. The Hartford men started out well,
and scored their first touch-down in the first few minutes of play; but
when New Britain kicked off, Hartford, instead of rushing down the
field, returned the kick, which gave New Britain the opportunity of
scoring within a very few moments. The New Britain men then scored
again, and as soon as they were ahead Hartford seemed to lose all
spirit.

Hartford's offensive work was pretty nearly as good as New Britain's,
but on the defense they seemed to be absolutely powerless. The best work
of the defeated eleven was done by Gillette and Sturtevant. For New
Britain, Brinley and Flannery were giants. Of course much of Hartford's
weakness was due to the crippled condition of the whole team, the loss
of Bush and Morris. Strong, who was injured in the Hotchkiss game, tried
to play against New Britain, but his condition did not allow of very
good work. This is undoubtedly an unfortunate year for Hartford in
football.

The other games played on the same day were by Hillhouse against
Meriden, which resulted in a victory of 54-15 for the latter; Bridgeport
defeated Waterbury, 12-8. Connecticut Literary Institute forfeited to
Norwich Free Academy.

One of the most interesting school football games ever played in
Cleveland was undoubtedly that between the University School and the
South High-School on October 25. The score was 4-0. This touch-down was
made by Roby, University School, after a run of thirty-five yards; he
got started through a big hole in the South High line, and there was no
stopping him until he had scored the only points made that afternoon.

The teams were evenly matched, although the South High men were much
heavier than their opponents. The University players made up for this
inequality by opposing skill to brawn. At the University School there
are eight football elevens which practise daily, and from these very
good material is to be had for the first team. At South High, on the
other hand, there is a scarcity of players for a scrub team, but the men
are all heavier than the University players. The feature of the play was
the excellent punting of Perkins. Most of the gains, however, were made
through South High line, and a few by good plays around the end.

The Academic Athletic League of San Francisco held its autumn field-day
a few weeks ago with the usual success, seven records being broken. The
figures that went in the 120-yard hurdle, which Hoffman, O.H.-S.,
reduced from 17-4/5 to 17-1/5 sec. Woolsey, B.H.-S., won the 220-yard
dash in 23-2/5 sec., which is one second better than the former record.
Spencer, B.H.-S., reduced the 220-yard hurdles from 29-1/2 sec. to
28-1/2 sec. Pitchford, B.H.-S., ran the 880-yard race in 2 min. 7-1/5
sec. Hoffman, O.H.-S., cleared 5 ft. 6-5/8 in. in the high jump. Smith
of Hoitt's School broke the 12-pound hammer-throw record by sending the
weight 133 ft. 9 in., which beats by 4 ft. 1 in. the National I.S.
record made by Ingalls of the Hartford High-School.

Hoffman's work at this field-day was of the first order; he won the
three events in which he entered, and in these broke two of the League
records. Following is a table of the points made by schools:

                 1st Place.   2d Place.    3d Place.    Points.
  O.H.-S.            5           6            3           46
  B.H.-S.            4           6            4           42
  P.H.-S.            2           1            3           16
  L.H.-S.            1           1            1            9
  S.H.-S.            1           -            2            7
  Hoitt's School     1           -            -            5

     Points: 1st place--5; 2d place--3; 3d place--1. In relay: 1st
     place--10; 2d place--6; 3d place--2.

The desire to resume relations in sport seems to be growing among the
students both of Andover and of Exeter. Only recently one of the Andover
publications, the _Mirror_, printed an editorial upon the subject,
urging that a school meeting be held to consider the question of opening
negotiations with their old rivals. "Who is there in school now," says
the _Mirror_, "who has any grudge against our old-time rival? The
majority of the fellows only know that there was trouble; that somebody
was naughty, and somebody else said they wouldn't play with them any
more. As a matter of fact, the make-up of neither of those memorable
teams would bear the scrutiny that is now being turned against amateur
athletics, nor can Andover be entirely upheld for protesting a game
which she ought not to have played."

There is no dispute of the statement that there were men on the Exeter
eleven, during the game which caused trouble, who had no right to play
for the school. It seems now that Andover was also to some extent in the
wrong in regard to the eligibility of players. But that is a point which
it is not necessary to go into at this late date. The _Mirror_ admits
that Andover knew that Exeter was going to play individuals who had no
right upon the team, but instead of refusing to meet them, Andover, on
the other hand, "rather sought glory in the hope of defeating them,
whether or no."

The "Mirror" then goes on very wisely to say that now, after the
_personnel_ of the two schools has changed completely from what it was
at the time of the trouble, there is nothing to be gained by cherishing
the old grudge. "There is everything to lose by it, on the other hand,"
continues the editorial. "Our present opponents are true sportsmen, and
play good football and baseball, but they live too far away." This is
about what this Department contended a few weeks ago--that Lawrenceville
and Worcester, and those schools which Andover has been seeking for
close games of late are not her natural rivals, being at too great a
distance from the home grounds. There is a great deal more in this
argument than may appear at first sight.

It is therefore sincerely to be hoped that the Andover men will have the
school meeting suggested by the _Mirror_. Good will surely come of it.
"We feel sure," says the _Mirror_, "that a discussion shared by the
whole school, and led by intelligent speakers instead of demagogues, as
was the previous one, would be the greatest gratification to every true
Phillips man, whether from Andover or Exeter, and would clear up one of
the most unfortunate affairs that has occurred in a long time."

The victory of the Cheltenham Military Academy football team over Penn
Charter makes it look as though the soldiers would capture the
championship of the Academic League this year. The game was played at
Ogontz, and consequently Cheltenham had a small advantage over the
visiting team, but they put up a game which Penn Charter would find hard
to beat on any field. Play had only been under way five minutes when
Boyd, C.M.A., broke through the line and scored. There was no goal, and
soon afterwards Boyd scored again.

Toward the close of the first half it looked as if Penn Charter might
score, but misjudging the situation, a try for goal from the field was
ordered, and the visitors lost the ball. In the second half, Cheltenham
scored another touch-down almost at the start. This made the score 16-0,
and that ended the point-making for the game. Just before the whistle
sounded, Dolson got a good start and made a long run, ending by placing
the ball behind the goal posts; but the referee refused to allow the
points, the Penn Charter man having run out of bounds.

The Chicago interscholastic football teams kept up their forfeiting
procedure on October 24--only two games being played. Hyde Park defeated
North Division by fast playing and good interference. The score was
42-6. Trude did good work, and made the finest run of the day by
shooting through a hole in the line and making a run of ninety yards.
Miller has developed into one of the strongest tackles in the League,
and in every game he makes sure gains when he takes the ball.
Friedlander's tackling was one of the features of the Hyde Park-North
Division match.

The game between Evanston and West Division was a one-sided affair,
Evanston winning, 28-0. The three centre men of the winning team are as
good as any in the Cook County League. Praether is the best man in his
position; he weighs 210 pounds, and does his work with thoroughness and
intelligence.

North Division and English High had an ugly misunderstanding in their
game, and the whole thing will have to be done over again some time
later. Part of the trouble resulted from playing in the dark. A decision
by the referee was the immediate cause. A competent referee should have
ordered play stopped as soon as it grew so dark that decisions must be
difficult to arrive at.

"A PRIMER OF COLLEGE FOOTBALL."--BY W. H. LEWIS.--16MO, PAPER, 75 CENTS.

  THE GRADUATE.




[Illustration: STAMPS]

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

The following new issues are on the market:

Fernando Po.

   1/2 centimo, yellow-brown.
   6 centimo, violet.
  12-1/2 centimo, brown.
  20 centimo, blue.
  25 centimo, carmine.

5c. on 10c. surch. per.

Montenegro, on September 1, two cards.

   1 novtch, blue and brown.
   2 novtch, lilac and orange.
   3 novtch, brown and green.
   5 novtch, green and brown.
  10 novtch, yellow and blue.
  15 novtch, blue and green.
  20 novtch, green and ultramarine.
  25 novtch, blue and yellow.
  50 novtch, red and blue.
   1 novtch, rose and blue.
   2 novtch, brown and green.

Some of the Tobago stamps have been seen in different colors from those
catalogued, and in some instances these stamps have been offered as
"errors" in color. It turns out that a new issue is to be made from the
same dies, but in new colors.

A collector in San Francisco lately was given access to the papers of a
merchant who was in business during 1861-1865. It is said that he found
U.S. Revenue stamps to a face value of $20,000. Most of the stamps were
common, but a good number of rarities repaid the collector for his
trouble.

     ENDICOTT C. ALLEN, High Street, Brookline, Mass., and L. T.
     BRODSTANE, Superior, Neb., wish to exchange stamps.

     A. GREENE.--No premium.

     HAROLD WEAVER.--Your stamps are locals from Finland.

     W. BENEDICT.--"Correos" is Spanish for postage, España is Spanish
     for Spain. You can obtain the Belgium dominical stamps from any
     dealer from 1c. to 25c., nine varieties for 25c.; the 50c. 1 F. and
     2 F. are worth 25c. each.

     A. B. C.--The Columbian half-dollar of 1893 is worth face only.

     E. V. SULLIVAN.--No premium on the coin. I believe there is a
     philatelic society in Hoboken, but I do not know the address. The
     Cuban republic stamps have been seen in New York on letters, but it
     has not yet been shown to the satisfaction of philatelists that
     these stamps are used for postal purposes in any part of Cuba. Of
     course, should the Cubans win their independence, they would
     establish regular post-offices, and probably would use the present
     Cuban republic stamps for some time at least.

     P. A. N.--Unused Würtemberg stamps previous to 1869 issue are very
     scarce. In many instances the used copy is worth 10c. or 15c., and
     the unused $10 or $15, and even more.

     CONSTANT READER.--Your coins are still current in England and
     Prince Edward Island respectively, consequently there is no
     premium.

     A. GILLOW, Main Street, Zeehan, Tasmania, offers Australian stamps
     in exchange for American and West Indian stamps.

     P. DREIER, Ridley Park, Pa., wishes to exchange stamps.

     C. H. V.--Encased postage-stamps are sold at $1 each and upward.
     Some varieties are very scarce.

     E. BRIGHAM.--No dealer will buy any stamps or collections of stamps
     without previous examination, and common stamps catalogued at 1c.
     to 10c. each are unsaleable (to dealers) except in lots of one
     hundred or more of each kind at one time. You can probably dispose
     of your collection to some of your friends who collect stamps.

     A. M. STEBBINS.--No premium.

     C. WILLISTON.--Continental and Colonial currency is well worth
     collecting. Many varieties are very common, and as yet it has not
     become fashionable to collect these interesting souvenirs of
     American history. Probably when they become scarcer there will be a
     greater demand than at present.

     A. B. TAYLOR.--The first issue of Tuscany stamps were printed on a
     sheet bearing twelve crowns as a water-mark--_i.e._, four
     horizontal rows of three each. It takes about eight stamps to show
     a complete crown, consequently individual stamps have a few
     irregular water-mark lines only.

  PHILATUS.




The Very Best Way Wanted.


Every time we have printed information about how to preserve flowers,
letters have come saying that this or that way is a better method than
the one we gave. Now "Lincoln, Wis.," writes us:

"I should like to collect wild flowers, but do not know how to prepare
them in order to preserve them in the best condition possible. Will some
one please tell me how it may be done?"

Complying with the request in the last clause, will some one tell us the
best way? Be brief and prompt. We will print the responses to this
query--or the best ones, at least--since many others may desire the
information.




[Illustration: Royal]

The absolutely pure baking powder. Made from cream of tartar, a fruit
acid. Does not contain alum or any deleterious substance. Unequaled in
strength.

ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., NEW-YORK.




[Illustration]

To Show

Your

Heels

To other skaters wear the

Barney & Berry Skates.

Highest Award World's Fair.

Catalogue Free.

BARNEY & BERRY, Springfield, Mass.




HOME STUDY.

A practical and complete =Business College Course= given by =MAIL=, at
student's =HOME=. Low rates and perfect satisfaction. Trial lesson 10
cents. Catalogue free.

BRYANT & STRATTON, 85 College Bldg., Buffalo, N.Y.




Hold their place in the front rank of the publications to which they
belong.--_Boston Journal_, Feb. 19, 1896.

HARPER'S

PERIODICALS

  MAGAZINE, $4.00 A YEAR
  WEEKLY, $4.00 A YEAR
  BAZAR, $4.00 A YEAR
  ROUND TABLE, $2.00 A YEAR




[Illustration: PISO'S CURE FOR CONSTIPATION]

CURES WHERE ALL ELSE FAILS.

Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good. Use

in time. Sold by druggists.




[Illustration: BICYCLING]

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


It will be necessary this week again to devote the Department to
answering one or two of the general questions on the subject of
bicycling. In the first place, letters are being received from time to
time asking not only how to join the League of American Wheelmen, but
what the advantages of it are. As is stated in the note at the beginning
of this Department, we are glad at any time to send blanks for
application for membership of the League to any one, but particular
reasons why any one should join the League cannot be given in small
space and apply to each request. The League of American Wheelmen
consists, according to the constitution, of amateur white wheelmen of
good character, eighteen years of age or over. An applicant for
membership must be endorsed by two League members and three other
reputable citizens, and pay an initiation fee and dues.

It is an association of bicyclists who have proved that by combining in
an association they can constitute themselves a strong influence for the
laying of good roads, can secure legislation for the advantage of and
prevent legislation against wheelmen, and can secure special rates at
hotels. The League is not a money-making institution, the services of
the officers are not paid for, and the two dollars which each member
pays for membership go not to any one's individual advantage, but to
paying the expenses of putting up signs throughout the country, of
getting out the State Road Books and Tour Books, and to the expenses of
carrying on correspondence, etc. The advantages that accrue to any one
who joins the League are, in the first place, that he receives an
interesting weekly paper, _The L.A.W. Bulletin and Good Roads_, which
keeps him pretty well informed as to bicycling matters. The League also
spends a large amount each year in keeping up the agitation for the
movement for improved roads, and it makes every attempt, so far as it
can, to protect wheelmen in their legal rights. The hand-books, maps,
road-books, bicycle meets, parades, tours, and entertainments gotten out
by each State for the benefit of members are all advantages that do not
need to be explained. Any one member may not avail himself of all these,
but he will find that at the end of the year he has obtained more than
two dollars' worth of benefit from the League. The ticket which is given
to him on the payment of the two dollars will secure from ten to
twenty-five per cent. reduction in at least one good hotel in almost
every large town in the United States, and if the member is making a two
weeks' tour in the country in New York State, for example, he will be
sure to more than get his two dollars back in that time on reduced hotel
rates alone.

Some one writes to ask whether it is important to observe all the city
regulations regarding bicyclists. This is one of the most important
details of wheeling in cities that can come before the attention of the
wheelman. The laws against bicycling would be much more stringent were
it not for the work of the League of American Wheelmen. This League
maintains, in substance, that a bicycle should be treated practically as
a horse and carriage on the road. The tendency, however, for legislators
is to curtail the rights of bicycles. As a result, certain laws have
been passed, and the contest is continually going on between the two
parties: those who assert that bicycles have and should have as much
right upon the road as carriages, and those who believe they should be
more restricted. If the community of wheelmen wish to have more rights
on the road than they have to-day, or as many of them have to-day, the
least they can do is to observe the ordinances, for by each infringement
of a city ordinance the chances of securing better legislation become
less. For example, there are city ordinances in New York which require
that every bicyclist should carry a lantern after dark; that no one
shall coast within the city limits; that every bicycle should have a
bell in good order attached to it, which shall be rung on certain
occasions. There are laws of a similar nature in most of the cities in
the United States now. It is a very simple matter for one bicyclist who
comes to a hill on the outskirts of New York city to coast. It is a
pleasure to enlist, of course. There may not be any policeman about, and
it is very possible that the bicyclist can have his coast and not be
discovered. At the same time, if he is discovered and arrested, the case
comes up in court; and especially if he is a well-dressed, respectable
citizen of the city, the opposition at once secures a handle for
argument that the bicycle must be restricted, that people do not observe
the ordinances, and that the bicycle in general is a nuisance. Few
readers of the ROUND TABLE could perhaps realize this at first sight,
but it has been used time and time again in the New York city courts as
an argument against bicyclists, and it is therefore the duty of every
person who rides a bicycle to observe these rules. The questions of
lights and bells are parallel. You may succeed in riding at night
without a light in some small city where the laws are not enforced, but
if any trouble arises you have done the best you could to bring the
bicycle into disrepute.




THE MANIA FOR COLLECTING.


It is doubtful if there is anywhere in the world a boy or a girl who has
not at some time or another suffered from this very harmless disease of
"collecting." It comes to most of us almost as surely as the mumps, but,
unlike many other of the diseases of childhood, it can be had more than
once, and there is no limit, apparently, to its phases.
Stamp-collecting, and autograph-collecting, and the collecting of coins
are most reasonable, instructive, and oftentimes profitable; but what
can be said of a person who collects toothpicks? It would almost seem as
if such a person were insane, and yet to some men it has appeared to be
worth while to do it. An English journal states that probably the
distinction of owning the most valuable assortment of these useful
little articles belongs to an Eastern Rajah, whose collection contains
toothpicks of the rarest workmanship and design, many of them studded
with costly jewels. Others of them are valuable from their antiquity and
the unique circumstances under which they came into his possession. The
most curious miscellaneous collection, the paper goes on to say, ever
made was that of an eccentric Scotsman, William Gordon, who lived at
Grahamstown, near Glasgow. He had an immense collection of the most
varied description, including adzes, gimlets, hammers, keys, jars,
bottles, toothpicks, tops, marbles, whips, toys of all sorts, sizes,
shapes, and materials, besides having an assortment of walking-sticks
and gold and silver watches. The most remarkable articles ever used as
toothpicks are the whiskers of the walrus, which are quite stiff, and
improve with age. The writer tells also of a curious fad of an eccentric
collector, who went in for bottled battle-fields, as he called them. He
had about seventy-five bottles, each bottle containing some of the soil
of a historic battle-field, and duly labelled.

Surely, if this mania continues to develop, we shall shortly hear of
collections of canned volcanoes, and barrelled rivers, and preserved
voices--in fact, the last would not, in these days of the phonograph, be
a had thing at all. If, instead of taking an autograph-album to a
celebrity, and asking him to write his name in it, a collector might
readily take a phonograph fully supplied with cylinders to the famous
men of the time, and ask them to say a few words to be handed down to
posterity, not by word of hand, but by word of mouth. It would be a
great joy to us now if some means of preserving the voice of
Shakespeare, Washington, Napoleon, and other illustrious dead had been
devised in the old days.




[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

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


Owing to the number of questions, we devote the entire Department to
answers this week.

     SIR KNIGHT E. MAGSAMEU asks how to burnish prints without a
     burnisher; if ferrotype pictures be made with the pocket kodak, and
     if so, how are they made; if lantern slides can be made with a
     kodak; if blue prints can be burnished; how to print a title or
     name on a photograph; what is meant by the diaphragm; and what is
     the reason tall buildings in his pictures have the appearance of
     falling down. To burnish prints get a ferrotype plate (price 5c.),
     clean it with a soft rag dipped in benzine, take the prints from
     the water and lay them face down on the shiny side of the plate.
     Lay a piece of blotting-paper over the print and rub it with a
     squeegee (which is a rubber roller), till all the moisture is out
     of the print and it adheres to the plate. Leave it on the plate
     till dry, when, if it does not come off itself, lift it at one
     corner and it will peel off the plate. The contact with and the
     drying on the ferrotype plate give the print a fine gloss. If one
     has not a squeegee, a smooth bottle or even a wooden rolling-pin
     can be used. Ferrotype pictures cannot very well be made with a
     pocket kodak. Sir Knight Samuel Boucher, Jun., Box 68, Gravesend,
     L. I., says that he will send the formula for ferrotype plates to
     any one who asks him for it. Lantern slides can be made with a
     kodak. Blue prints cannot be burnished. See No. 855, March 17,
     1896, for directions for marking negatives. A diaphragm in
     photography is a thin metal plate with a hole in the centre, which
     is placed between the lenses of the camera tube to concentrate the
     rays of light and increase the sharpness of the picture. The
     smaller the opening the sharper will be the picture, but the
     exposure will take longer than with a larger opening. The reason of
     the lines of the buildings in the pictures being out of
     perpendicular is because the lens is not rectilinear.

     SIR KNIGHT WILLIAM F. BEERS, San Remo Hotel, 75th Street and
     Central Park, New York city, wishes to know the best book for
     amateurs. Wilson's _Photographics_ is a good book, and gives
     detailed directions for making pictures. Sir William says he has a
     3 by 3-1/2 daylight kodak which he would like to sell, as he wishes
     to purchase a larger size.

     SIR KNIGHT ARTHUR LAZARUS asks how to enlarge and diminish the size
     of pictures. To enlarge see directions given in No. 801. Will Sir
     Arthur state whether he means to reduce from the negative or from
     the print? Our competition is now open.

     ROBERT HUNTER, 122 Buena Vista Ave., Newark, O.; LOE OLDS, Spring
     Alley, Minn.; EDWARD CLARKSON SEWARD, JUN., 43 North Fullerton
     Ave., Montclair, N. J.; WALTER S. RAUDENBUSH, 130 South 6th St.,
     Lebanon, Pa.; LESTER SCHUTTE, 29 East 93d St., New York city;
     GRENVILLE N. WILLIS, Maplehurst, Becket, Mass.; WILLIS H. KERR,
     Bellevue, Neb., wish to be enrolled as members of the Camera Club.

     SIR KNIGHT J. R. SIXX sends two blue prints, and asks if they are
     good. He has had his camera but two months and is anxious to do
     good work. The picture of the poultry-yard is very good, but in
     making pictures of figures would suggest that the full length be
     included. If the camera had been moved a little farther away from
     the subject it would have brought the whole figure within the angle
     of the lens. The picture is sharp and detail good. The picture of
     the steamer is a good one, but trimming would improve the general
     appearance. Try cutting off half an inch in the foreground, at the
     same time making the edge of the picture parallel with the bottom
     of the boat, and then squaring the rest of the picture to
     correspond. A part of an umbrella out of focus shows at one side of
     the picture. This can be removed in the printing if a thin mixture
     of Gihon's opaque or lamp-black (water-color) be painted on the
     glass side of the negative over the outlines of the umbrella. Make
     it as near the color of the film of the sky as possible, and it
     will look like a part of it. Try and win a prize in our coming
     competition.

     SIR KNIGHT WALTER RAUDENBUSH and several other correspondents who
     wish to become members of the Camera Club ask if there is any
     initiation fee required for admission into the Camera Club. There
     is no fee, and any Knight or Lady of the Round Table may become a
     member of the Camera Club by sending name and address to the editor
     and asking to be enrolled as a member. One is not required to be a
     subscriber to the magazine in order to belong to the Camera Club or
     to enter the competitions; but it is a great advantage to have the
     magazine, as the Camera Club column always contains matter which is
     of value to the amateur.




AN ENGLISH VIEW OF THE AMERICAN CLIMATE.


We learn a great many interesting things about America from the London
newspapers. Here is the latest bit of information that has come to hand:

"Mr. Willie Park, Jun., the well-known golfer, who recently returned
from a visit to America, tells of a match he played there with Willie
Dunn under exceptional circumstances. It was the time of the great heat
wave in New York, and on the day on which the match was decided, the
heat Mr. Park describes as being 'somewhat terrible.' The thermometer
registered 101 degrees in the shade. Notwithstanding this, there was a
large following, many of whom sought to overcome the effects of the heat
by bathing their heads under running-water taps on different parts of
the course. It was almost impossible to keep the balls in a playable
condition, as the heat softened the gutta-percha. To prevent them
melting they were placed on ice and carried along by a caddie, who
deposited a changed ball at each tee, while the old ones were replaced
on the ice for preservation!"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SECOND SUMMER,

many mothers believe, is the most precarious in a child's life;
generally it may be true, but you will find that mothers and physicians
familiar with the value of the Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk do
not so regard it.--[_Adv._]




ADVERTISEMENTS.




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Beware of Imitations.




Postage Stamps, &c.




Any Stamp Collector

who is not familiar with our weekly stamp journal may secure it on trial
for 3 months for 10c. and a packet of 100 varieties of foreign-stamps,
_free_. The packet contains only genuine stamps, including Victoria, New
South Wales, Newfoundland, Ceylon, Mexico, Spain, Italy, Austria, Chili,
and many other countries.

Price-lists FREE. Approval sheets sent on application.

C. H. Mekeel Stamp & Pub. Co., St. Louis, Mo.




[Illustration: STAMPS]

100, all dif., & fine =STAMP ALBUM=, only 10c.; 200, all dif., Hayti,
Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Agents wanted at 50 per cent. com. List FREE!
=C. A. Stegmann=, 5941 Cote Brilliant Ave., St. Louis, Mo.




U.S.

25 diff U.S. stamps 10c., 100 diff. foreign 10c. Agts w'td @ 50%. List
free! L. S. Dover & Co. 5958 Theodosia, St. Louis, Mo.




STAMPS. 25 var. 10c. Sheets 50% commission.

R. W. De HAVEN, Box 4023, Sta. B. Phila., Pa.




Old

and

New.

Franklin

Square

Song

Collection.

The "Franklin Square Library" has given many valuable numbers, but none
so universally attractive as this. Nowhere do we know of an equally
useful collection of School, Home, Nursery, and Fireside Songs and Hymns
which everybody ought to be able to preserve, and which everybody will
be able to enjoy.--_Springfield Journal._

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




A Glimpse of Long Island Life.


     HARPER'S ROUND TABLE has always been the greatest source of
     pleasure to us, and has followed us around in our various
     wanderings, both here and abroad; always awaited with impatience
     and devoured with avidity. I have just finished that most
     delightful serial "For King or Country," and think it one of the
     finest stories I have ever read. I began it one evening after
     supper, and became so much excited over it that I could not lay it
     aside until I had reached the last page. My other favorite serials
     were "Dorymates," "The Red Mustang," and "The Flamingo Feather."

     Roslyn is a quiet little town on the north shore, nestled at the
     foot of Harbor Hill, the highest elevation on the island. It is on
     Hempstead Harbor, and looking out across the Sound one can see the
     hills of Connecticut ten miles away. It is a resort much frequented
     by tourists in the summer-time, and its scenery is most
     picturesque. With its rolling meadows, deep glens and recesses, and
     ridges of hills, one might almost imagine Switzerland on a small
     scale. We are devotedly fond of the place, having lived here the
     greater part of our lives, and were quite heart-broken at leaving
     it to go to Europe in early 1889. My sister and I go to a classical
     school here, and take the regular college preparatory dose of
     Latin, Greek, and mathematics, which we enjoy immensely.

     We are both ardent disciples of photography, and also struggling
     young acrobats on the treacherous fiddle-string. During our leisure
     hours we ride, drive, skate, play tennis, or swim--according to
     season.

  HILDA WARD, L.R.T.
  ROSLYN, N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

Queer Signs of Coming Events.

There is old sign that if the housewife drops her dishcloth, "company"
is coming. Did you ever hear of it? Then there are signs about the
weather, about luck, and about many similar things. We want to know the
signs common with you. Do you live in the South, in Canada, or in the
West? Tell the Table briefly a few of the signs you oftenest hear. Those
that strike us as the oddest and the funniest we will print, giving
credit to the senders of them. Cannot our readers abroad help us on the
collection? We hope so.

       *       *       *       *       *

Kinks.

No. 50.--A DIAGONAL ACROSTIC.

Here is as pretty a puzzle as one could wish to see. Its answer is
simple, and yet fewer things are harder to construct than this double
acrostic. It looks easy--but! You remember the story of the fresh
Freshman at college who thought proverbs simple. His professor told him
to make a few! In the following the primal diagonal reads downwards, the
final one upwards. The five short couplet lines throw light on the
cross-words:

  Two brothers we are said to be,
    And children of the year;
  We come each spring, and always bring
    Some proof that spring is here.
  The elder fumes and shakes his plumes
    That spring should be so coy;
  But, much more mild, the younger child
    Sheds copious tears of joy.

1.

  In every work-shop, every trade,
  For imitation chiefly made.

2.

  When weary on the desert plain,
  Rest and refreshment here obtain.

3.

  In this the low comedian plays,
  And seeks to catch the vulgar praise.

4.

  Some great event doth indicate
  The time from which I take my date.

5.

  Musician I--when David sung,
  His lyre to me ofttimes he strung.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 51.--DOUBLE PROGRESSIVE MAGIC SQUARE.

Figures 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256. These numbers have been
doubled from one upwards, and the puzzle is to place them in a square of
three lines, so that the first multiplied by the second, and the product
multiplied by the third each way, horizontally, perpendicularly, and
diagonally, will produce the same amount. There are eight answers, all
alike.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 52.--A SENTENCE HUNT.

The following sentence, standing alone, is in one of the most familiar
of books,

     "Neither give place to the devil."

Where is it?

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 53.--PHONETIC CHARADE.

  I am the first half you all are to guess,
  I, a poor insect, quite tiny or less.
  After me comes the two-syllabled verb
  Lovers may do and their parents disturb.
  Join us, we make the fleet-footed beast
  Lovers should copy and rival; at least,
  Would those rash lovers reach safely their goal,
  They ought to make use of the speed of my whole.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 54.--A GEOGRAPHY LESSON.

1. What town in Norway would you prefer not to drive a shying horse
past?

2. What city in Trans-Caucasia runs on wheels?

3. What is the most aristocratic river of Europe?

4. What suburb has Bombay that, if you had it, you would try to get rid
of?

5. What city of Afghanistan can one person talk in every part at once?

6. What large river of Bosnia can you not drown in?

7. What town in Sweden could you use on your front-yard fence?

       *       *       *       *       *

Answers to Kinks.

No. 46.--CHARADE.

Sun-down-(h)er.--Sundowner; a squatter on government land.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 47.--FOR MATHEMATICIANS.

He receives all his book debts except $2 in $5 of $15,000, and all
except $1.25 in $5 of $6000. His loss corresponds to 2-5 of $15,000 plus
1-4 of $6000 or $7500 in all. Had he received all his book debts he
could have paid $5.25 on every $5 he owed. As it is, he can only pay $4
on every $5. Therefore the loss of each $1.25 on each $5 he owes
corresponds to the total loss of $7500, and so

As $1.25:$7500::$5:$30,000. Amount he owes, $30,000. This is
propounder's solution.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 48.--WORD SQUARE.

  T A F F Y
  A W A R E
  F A T A L
  F R A N K
  Y E L K S

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 49.--EASY RIDDLE IN PROSE.

Valuable as a curiosity to any museum. The five pebbles. The one pebble
with which David killed Goliath.

       *       *       *       *       *

A Sailing Trip and a War-Ship.

     Last April a friend of my father's told me that a party from
     Bluffton were going to "Paris Island" to see the man-of-war
     _Indiana_, and asked me if I would like to go. I went. We had to
     ride five miles in wagons, and then we got into a large sail-boat.
     It was a cold and rough day, and some of the girls got seasick. But
     other boys and girls and myself had a delightful time. We arrived
     at our journey's end in four hours, and proceeded to a friend's
     house.

     The dry dock in which the ship lay is a hole thirty-five feet deep,
     four hundred feet long, and about seventy feet broad, and has steps
     going down three sides of it. The other end is the gate, which is
     very large and oblong. It has rigging inside of it, which opens or
     closes it at will. A pump working all the time keeps the dock dry.
     We went on board the _Indiana_, and a marine explained everything
     to us. The small cannons fire twenty-five times in a minute, and
     some others sixty or sixty-five times in a minute. The large
     cannons are in turrets, which can be turned around on a pivot,
     enabling them to be fired in any direction. We saw some torpedoes
     which, the marine said, cost twenty-five hundred dollars apiece.

     The ship's kitchen is large and cool. There were some sailors
     cooking, and some were washing clothes. Others were sewing,
     reading, writing, and talking. Then we went through the petty
     officers' quarter, which was a kind of long hall, on each side of
     which were small rooms, and all along this hall sailors were asleep
     in all kinds of positions. We went to a lower deck in the boat, and
     our guide showed us where they telegraph to all parts of the ship.
     There were two rows of boxlike instruments, and in the middle of
     each was a button. The sailors wore navy-blue blouses and
     pantaloons and Tam o' Shanters that were trimmed with white braid.
     The marines' suits were trimmed with gold braid. Instead of Tam o'
     Shanters they had caps. We went also to see Fort Charles. The moats
     are three feet deep and five feet broad. They are very thickly
     overgrown with scrub-oak. We picked up a few shells on the beach as
     mementos of our trip to the _Indiana_. I would like a few
     correspondents.

  EMILY MITTELL.
  BLUFFTON, S. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

Books for a Girls' Chapter.

     I have organized a little club of five girls, three
     thirteen-year-olds, one ten, and one eleven years. We call it the
     Iris Club, in honor of Juno's hand-maiden between the earth and
     sky; and also in honor of her, our colors are purple and white. Our
     dues for the first month are ten cents, and after that five cents.
     We are going to give these dues to the Home for Friendless
     Children. I thought it would be nice to take up some noted work
     which all would enjoy--the oldest as well as the youngest. I love
     Dickens, but his works are so lengthy, and the plot so long in
     evolving, that the younger ones might lose interest. Can you
     suggest a list of books?

  ADELAIDE L. W. ERMENTROUT.
  READING, PA.

Ellen Douglas Deland's _Oakleigh_, _The Wide, Wide World_, which is a
standard, but which you may have read, and Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney's
books--all of them.

       *       *       *       *       *

Amateur Illustrator's Outfit.

     "What utensils are needed by an amateur illustrator, and where can
     they be obtained? J. S."

  CORNING, N. Y.

Illustrations are made in two ways--pen-drawing, and what is called
"wash." For the former get good Bristol board, a bottle of drawing-ink,
and some small steel pens. The outfit will cost half a dollar, perhaps,
and can be had from a dealer in artists' materials, or your bookseller
may have them. If he has not, he can get them for you. To draw in wash
use ivory black and Chinese white. The drawing is a water-color, and the
picture is made with the lights and shades of the background, the ink,
and the white. Use water-color paper and small sable brushes--half a
dozen assorted sizes. You can get the outfit by sending to the address
given in any advertisement. These are all the utensils you need. The
rest comes by practice and study.

       *       *       *       *       *

A Query in Natural History.

Adelaide L. W. Ermentrout asks: "Can any one interested in natural
history tell me the name of the queer object which I am going to
describe? It is a worm about one inch long and one-fourth of an inch in
diameter. The body is brown, but over the back is a patch of green
bordered with white. In the centre of this patch is a brown spot. At
each end of the body are two horns covered with bristles, and around the
body are tufts of bristles like fringe on a cushion. At one end, under
the body, is a little head with which it feels its way. There are two
tiny eyes at the sides. Its under side has little holes in three
parallel rows, by which, I suppose, it clings. It is a hideous creature.
What is it, where does it come from, and what does it develop into?"

       *       *       *       *       *

A Startling Experiment.

     Not long ago I went to the American Institute Fair, in New York,
     and went through a most mysterious performance. At one end of the
     hall was the "illustrated" X rays. To see this wonder, you pay ten
     cents and put your hand in front of a tube and peep through an
     instrument which looks like a stereoscope. At first you see nothing
     but a dark object; then, as if by magic, a faint outline of the
     hand appears, and then--horrors--you see the bones--the actual
     bones--of your own hand with all their ugliness!

     This is a most wonderful experiment, and, if possible, I would
     advise all those who can, to "see the bones of your own hand." Some
     timid persons may shrink from this ghastly sight, but I firmly
     believe that they would learn something by seeing this marvellous
     scientific experiment.

  FRED. W. PANGBORN, JUN.
  HACKENSACK, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Lesson of a Life.

The late George du Maurier was an example of a man who worked his way to
fame and fortune. True, when just turned sixty he had a wonderful "run
of luck," but it is to be remembered that his genius had been present
all the long up-hill years before sixty. The trouble was, the world
would not see it.

Daniel Webster, upon the conclusion of the greatest effort of his life,
that wonderful speech in the United States Senate, was congratulated on
being able to make such a speech off-hand. Asked if it really was
extempore, as it appeared, he replied, "Yes, but I have been all my life
preparing it."

It was much this way with the late novelist. Du Maurier wrote and the
world applauded. Quite simple. Quite easy. Not so. Du Maurier studied
for many, many years, and faced discouragements that would have sent
weaker men to the wall. Like Webster, his effort at last seemed almost
"extempore" in spite of the fact that his custom was to write, rewrite,
tear up, write again and change; but he had been all his life a student,
a patient toiler, piling up a capital of experience, not knowing whether
he should ever be able to realize any thing from it or not. In spite of
Du Maurier's phenomenal success near the close of his life, his personal
history is a lesson to young persons in this: That the price of success
must be paid, just as the price must be paid for land, for gold, or for
anything else of value.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Chinese" by the Way of South Africa.

From distant South Africa comes the following. It is not quite new, if
it did come so far, but we print it, partly because it always
stimulates, and partly to oblige the sender, J. G. Tanté, who is a young
stamp-collector of that distant place where we have so many other Round
Table members--Somerset East, Cape Colony, South Africa. Here is the
story:

A Chinaman died, leaving his property by will to his three sons as
follows: "To Fuen-huen, the eldest, one-half thereof; to Nu-pin, his
second son, one-third thereof; and to Ding-bat, his youngest, one-ninth
thereof."

When the property was inventoried, it was found to consist of nothing
more nor less than seventeen elephants, and it puzzled these three heirs
how to divide the property according to the terms of the will without
chopping up seventeen elephants, and thereby seriously impairing their
value. Finally they applied to a wise neighbor, Suen-punk, for advice.
Suen-punk had an elephant of his own. He drove it into the yard with the
seventeen, and said:

"Now we will suppose that your father left these eighteen elephants.
Fuen-huen, take your half and depart." So Fuen-huen took nine elephants
and went his way.

"Now, Nu-pin," said the wise man, "take your third and go." So Nu-pin
took six elephants and travelled.

"Now, Ding-bat," said the wise man, "take your ninth and begone." So
Ding-bat took two elephants and vamosed. Then Suen-punk took his own
elephant and drove him home again.

Query: Was the property divided according to the terms of the will?




[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

  When office work has tried the nerves
    And taxed both hands and brain,
  A quick, cool wash with Ivory serves
    To soothe and ease the strain.

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




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     There is probably no other man in America who has had as much
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     Lewis.... Of value not only to beginners, but to any one who wishes
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     best practical guide to football we have yet discovered.--_Harvard
     Crimson_, Cambridge.

     Written by a man who has a most thorough knowledge of the game, and
     is in language any novice may understand.--_U. of M. Daily_,
     University of Michigan.

     Will be read with enthusiasm by countless thousands of boys who
     have found previous works on the subject too advanced and too
     technical for beginners.--_Evangelist_, N. Y.

     Beginners will be very grateful for the gift, for no better book
     than this of Mr. Lewis's could be placed in their hands.--_Saturday
     Evening Gazette_, Boston.

_NEW EDITION OF_

CAMP'S AMERICAN FOOTBALL

By WALTER CAMP. New and Enlarged Edition. 16mo, Cloth, $1.25.

     The progress of the sport of football in this country, and a
     corresponding growth of inquiry as to the methods adopted by
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[Illustration: JUST A TRIFLE UNDER THE WEATHER.]

       *       *       *       *       *

NOW SHE KNOWS.

Hattie is no longer in doubt. She has often heard good people declare
that it was "raining cats and dogs," and for a time believed that they
were romancing, or, at least, prevaricating. Now she thinks they were
speaking the truth. "If it doesn't rain cats and dogs sometimes," says
Hattie, "how do the Skye-terriers get here? That's what I want to know."

       *       *       *       *       *

"Where did you go last summer, Jacky?"

"We didn't go," said Jacky. "We staid home."

       *       *       *       *       *

AN ITEM FOR SAILORS.

Here is an important statement--if true--for those interested in
sailing. An English newspaper says that while it is hard to believe that
the speed of a sailing-vessel can be increased by boring holes in her
sails, an Italian sea-captain nevertheless claims to have conducted
experiments which go a long way towards proving it. His theory is that
the force of the wind cannot fairly take effect on an inflated sail,
because of the cushion of immovable air which fills up the hollow. To
prevent the formation of this cushion, the captain bored a number of
holes in the sail. These holes let through the air which would otherwise
have been retained in the hollow of the sail, and allowed the wind to
exercise its whole power by striking fairly against the sail itself.
Several trials of this device have been made, and it has been found that
in a light wind a boat with ordinary sails made four knots, while with
the perforated sails she covered five and a quarter knots. In a fresh
breeze she made seven knots with the ordinary and eight and
three-quarter knots with the perforated sails; and in a strong wind she
made eight knots with the old and ten knots with the new sails. This
gain--from twenty to twenty-five per cent.--is of so much importance
that the experiments will be repeated on a larger scale.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE JOCUND WIND.

For a practical joker there is nothing like the wind. It blows clothing
hung out to dry from one neighbor's yard into another; it will whisk
your hat off in a jiffy, and compel you to make yourself a spectacle
chasing after it; it is worse than the small boy who removes gates on
All-Halloween, for it not only removes gates, but sky-lights and
window-shutters. Worst of all, it is no respecter of persons. It will
prank with a King as readily as with a beggar, and years ago in France
it had its joke with no less a person than the Prince-President
himself--the one who subsequently overthrew the republic and proclaimed
the empire, with himself as Emperor, Napoleon III. According to the
chronicles, the way of it was this:

When the Prince-President, on his journey through France, came to
Bordeaux, a triumphal arch had been erected for him by the prefect at
the entrance to the town. A wreath suspended by a rope was to be let
down on his head as he passed under it, and the arch bore this
inscription: "He has well deserved it." But a gust of wind carried off
the wreath, so there was nothing left but the rope with this legend--"He
has well deserved it."

       *       *       *       *       *

This is a true story of Peter Apple, of Oakland, Marion County, Indiana.
He was a raw recruit when his company took part in an attempt to storm a
battery at Vicksburg. The fire of the rebels was so hot, however, that
the Union troops were forced to retreat. Private Apple was so excited,
however, that he did not hear the command to retreat, and in the
disorder of the contest rushed over the breastworks unharmed and grabbed
a gunner by the collar. Then he turned about and dragged the man back to
the retreating Indianians, and cried out:

"Boys, why did you not come on? Every fellow might have had one!"

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. HOPE. "Ethel, Miss Nerfus is coming to-day, and I want you to be
mamma's good little girl."

ETHEL (_aged five_). "Oh yes, indeed, mamma! I'm always very particular
about what I do when visitors are here."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AUNT SAMANTHA. "NOW I SEE WHY THAT YOUNGSTER GAVE ME
THESE FELT SLIPPERS FOR CHRISTMAS."]





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, November 10, 1896, by Various



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, NOVEMBER 10, 1896 ***


    

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