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Title: Harper's Round Table, February 9, 1897

Author: Various

Release date: November 13, 2019 [eBook #60681]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Annie R. McGuire


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, FEBRUARY 9, 1897 ***




Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

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

       *       *       *       *       *

PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1897. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.

VOL. XVIII.--NO. 902. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration]

A WILD DAY IN '48.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.


There was a vague apprehension in the air; every one appeared conscious
that something was about to happen, though no one seemed to know
precisely what; and so, as childhood is naturally curious, the writer of
these lines, being then of the age of seven, managed to escape from the
house unobserved, out into the great murmuring town. Half-frightened
glances turned towards the east were a kind of guidance; and in that
direction he accordingly wandered, until he came in sight of a
crowd--not a beautiful, richly colored, processional crowd such as might
have gone through the streets of Florence in mediæval times, with boy
choristers chanting, and maidens carrying palms, but a black and grimy
and amorphous assemblage of men, silent, in deadly earnest, who at the
moment were engaged in tearing down the tall iron railing surrounding
Glasgow Green, in order to secure weapons for themselves. And this small
person of seven thought that he too must be up and doing. The others
were wresting these enormous bars from their soldered sockets; why
should not he also be furnished with an implement of destruction? And so
he tugged and pulled and struggled; and yet the iron bar, about thrice
as high as himself, remained obdurate; and again and again he pulled,
and dragged, and vainly shook; in the midst of which determined
endeavors a hand was swiftly laid on his arm, and a young Highland lass
(her eyes jumping out of her head with terror), who had been wildly
running and searching all over the neighborhood, dragged away the young
rebel from the now marshalling crowd. Perhaps the alarm in her face
impressed him; at all events he meekly yielded. That was not the usual
expression of her face--when she was telling marvellous tales of
children being carried away by eagles and brought up in a nest on a
crag; the heroine of these various adventures, I remember, was called
Angel; and whatever else happened to her, in the end her constancy, and
virtue, and beauty were invariably rewarded by a happy marriage.

But now the surging mass of rioters came along, each man of them with
one of those long spikes over his shoulder; and the trembling Highland
lass, still clinging tightly to her charge, shrank hiding into an
archway, and tried to conceal the child with her substantial skirts,
till the man-eating ogres should go by. "Willst du nicht aufstehn,
Wilhelm, zu schauen die Prozession?" some one might have asked--but not
this Highland girl, who was doubtless thinking (in Gaelic) that the
people who dwelt in cities were capable of dreadful things. Well, when
one did peep out, there was not much to see--at least, nothing
picturesque to attract the wondering eyes of childhood: there were no
flags, no Mænads with flowing hair; nor was there any gesticulation, nor
any attempt at oratory; only this great dark multitude moving on into
the city, with two or three leaders marching in front, these ominously
glancing from right to left, as if to judge where the sacking should
begin. For they had come to sack a city, had these men. There was a talk
at the time of bread riots; and no doubt there was a great deal of
distress prevailing, as there generally is; and presumably there was a
considerable proportion of these demonstrators honestly protesting
against a social system that did not provide them with work. But it was
not loaves the instigators of this movement were after, as events
showed; rather it was silver teapots, and diamond brooches, and silk
umbrellas--in short, a general partitioning of property; and of course
there were plenty of vagabonds and ne'er-do-weels only too ready to fall
in with that entrancing idea.

By what secret and devious ways the Highland lass managed to get herself
and her captive back to our home in the Trongate--the historic Trongate
of the ancient city of Glasgow--I cannot now say; but she must have been
clever and smart about it; for when one at length reached the eagerly
thronged windows, it was found that the fun in the thoroughfare below
was only beginning. The whole thing looked strange. Musgrave the
gunsmith (his sign was two gold guns crossed) was the first to put up
his shutters. Perhaps the police had warned him that the rioters would
make straight for his premises, to seize arms and ammunition, though, to
be sure, there was not a policeman anywhere visible. No; what was
visible was a great, swarming, tumultuous assemblage of men and lads
who, at a signal from their leaders, had become stationary in front of a
silversmith's shop. The silversmith, like the rest of his neighbors, had
hurriedly shut and locked up his shop on hearing of the approach of the
mob; but that did not avail him much. Another signal was given.
Volunteers rushed forward, and proceeded with their long iron pikes to
batter in the panels of the door. Then a hole was made. Then one man
stooped and crawled in and opened the door from the inside. The curious
thing was that the crowd did not now rush into the shop. Perhaps some
instinct told them that they would instantly block up the place, and
would thus escheat themselves of the spoils of victory. There was a
cheer, doubtless, when the panel was hammered in--a long, hoarse,
raucous cheer; but the mass held back; only the leaders entered; and for
a few moments there was a dumb expectancy.

What now followed was one of the most singular scenes that any small boy
of seven ever set eyes upon. From the wide-opened door flashing white
things came flying out; high above the heads of the crowd they came; but
as they descended a forest of straining arms and hands received them;
and there was cheer after cheer as the plunder went on. It did not
matter what it was: silver fish-knives, coffee-pots, biscuit-boxes,
cruet-stands, opera-glasses--out they came flying to fall into this or
that one's clutch; and again and again the hoarse roar of exultation
went up, even from those who could not get near enough to share. These
people with the upstretched arms appeared to have no fear whatever of
getting their heads cut open by an electro-plated salver, a drawing-room
lamp, or a brass candlestick. Out the missiles came; and the covetous
fingers grabbed here and there; and the fierce tumult of applause ebbed
and flowed. Where were the police? Well, there did not seem to be any
police. It is true, a number of special constables had been hastily
sworn in (my eldest brother was one of them, and according to his own
account performed prodigies of valor); but they could not be everywhere;
and meanwhile the poor silversmith's goods were being catapulted out to
those clamorous upstretched hands.

Of a sudden a new feature appeared in this changing panorama. Ten or a
dozen men (I think they wore some sash or badge of office, but I am not
positive on this point) who seemed to have dropped from the clouds were
jamming their way through the dense multitude; and when at length they
had reached the pavement in front of the silversmith's shop, they began
to lay about them lustily with their staves, each blow falling
vertically on several heads at once. In Egypt I have seen an old Arab
sheik do precisely the same thing, when his young men had become unruly.
And in neither case was there the slightest resistance to constituted
authority. This great mass of people could have turned upon the handful
of special constables and rent them in pieces; but they did not; they
tried in a kind of way to move on, though by this time all the central
thoroughfares of the city were blocked, and a man who has a cruet-stand
or a silver dish-cover concealed under his coat cannot glide easily
between his neighbors. Whether the constables succeeded in arresting any
of the ringleaders at this particular spot, I cannot recollect; but all
the afternoon came wilder and wilder stories of chases, and captures,
and seizures of booty. My brother was personally conducting a party of
five of the rioters to the police-station, through a very bad
neighborhood, when they turned on him, tripped him, and threw him down.
But he was up again in a moment, with the cursory declaration that if
any one of them advanced a step towards him, or attempted to escape
either, he would forthwith split his, the thief's, skull in two. And
what is more, he would have done it; for he was a powerful man; and he
had a drawn truncheon; and he was never at any time a slave to
punctilio. I forget the number of gold and silver watches found in the
possession of these rascals.

But now the great event of the day, to the imagination of childhood, at
all events, was approaching; for the bruit was gone abroad that the
cavalry had been ordered in from their suburban barracks to ride through
the streets and disperse the mob, and put an end to any lingering
lawlessness. Plundering in the main thoroughfares had by this time
mostly ceased; for the chief ringleaders had been arrested and haled off
to the police-stations; while the worst of their followers roamed about
in a surreptitious way, seeking what they could devour, rather than
daring openly to attack the shuttered shops. The central parts of the
city still remained congested, notwithstanding the reading of the Riot
Act; for many simple country folk had wandered in, perhaps out of
curiosity, perhaps anxious about their relatives; and of course they
could not well get about, because of the crush. Altogether they formed a
restless, half-frightened, elbowing, and struggling crowd; but it was a
sombre crowd--especially as the dusk of the afternoon drew on to
twilight; so that the delight of one small spectator may be imagined
when there appeared in the distance a fringe of color--a splendor of
uniforms--the glint of helmet and drawn sabre--the prancing of horses.
And now began a wild hurry-and-scurry, the people surging against
themselves in their frantic efforts to get free, a chaos and confusion
impossible to describe. On came the dragoons, pressing against this
nebulous mass of humanity, sparing the women as well as they could, but
riding down the men--especially where any disposition was shown to form
defiant groups--and striking right and left with the back of their
swords. It was all very picturesque and splendid--to one youthful
onlooker--here in the gathering gloom: the flash of brass and steel, the
clink-clank of bridle and scabbard, the fleeing of fugitives, the pawing
and rearing of reined-in chargers where a group of terrified women found
themselves incapable of retreat. Why, it was better than the fight with
Apollyon in the _Pilgrim's Progress_; for that was only a picture, in
flaming red and yellow colors; whereas this was full of movement and
change; and a certain dim fascination of fear. And so the dark came
down; and the gases in the house were lit; but out there the dragoons
were still riding hither and thither through the night, pursuing and
dispersing, with a rattle of horses' hoofs on the stony street.

What happened next was remarkable enough. The fact is, you cannot at a
moment's notice drive a welded crowd out of a long and narrow
thoroughfare. It is not to be done; and in this case it was not done;
for the people, seeing their neighbors here and there knocked over by
the horses or slapped on the shoulder by those gleaming blades,
forthwith fled pell-mell into the adjacent "closes," lanes, archways,
and common stair-cases, which were very speedily choked up. To all
outward seeming, the pavements and the causeway, now dimly visible under
the yellow light of the street lamps, had been swept clear; but none the
less the Trongate held all these innumerable huddled and hiding groups
of frightened folk, as we were soon to know. For, through some accident
or another, the outer door of our house chanced to be opened for a
second, and instantly there burst into the lobby and into the rooms a
whole number of women, panting, shaking, haggard-eyed, and speechless.

They made no apology for taking possession of a stranger's dwelling, the
simple reason being that in their agony of alarm they were incapable of
uttering a word; they did not know what they were doing or where they
were; they were entirely bereft of their senses. A friend of mine who
was through a long war (I do not mention his nationality, for fear of
wounding patriotic sensitiveness) told me that on one occasion, after an
unexpected reverse, the regiment in which he served was seized by a
perfectly ungovernable panic; there was no withstanding the infection of
this madness; the whole lot of them, himself included, took to their
heels, and ran, and ran, and ran, hour after hour, until they flung
themselves exhausted on the floor of any barn or shanty that chanced to
be on their way; and then there was never more than ten minutes' sleep
to be snatched, for one or other of them was sure to spring up with the
cry, "They're coming!" and off they would set again, in hysterical and
insensate flight. It would seem as if a regiment had a nervous system
just as a human being has, and that either may find it fail at a
critical moment, until reason reasserts itself. I remember regarding
with the greatest curiosity these unaccountable visitors who had invaded
our home. Decent-looking, respectably-dressed women they were, who
obviously had had no more to do with the riot than the man in the moon;
most likely they had never heard of such a thing as a Riot Act; but here
they were imprisoned, their voice and wits alike gone from them, and no
means possible to them of communicating with their friends. Not any one
of them appeared to know any other of them. Some stood in the middle of
the dining-room, seemingly unable to move another step, pale, trembling,
distraught; one or two had sunk helplessly into chairs; one or two were
looking out from the windows at the terrors from which they had just
escaped, their scared eyes following the clanking up and down of the
dragoons, the charging of the horses, the escape of this or that
guilty-conscienced runaway along the dark and gas-lit street. And what
was to be done with these paralyzed and speechless guests, when once
they had partially come to themselves? Among the elder members of the
family I gathered there was some talk of our being able to pass them
through the lines of the soldiery when our special constable should
return; but no one knew at what hour his multifarious duties might be
over. Well, that is all I can relate of this peculiar situation of
affairs, for now I was taken off to bed; and at what hour, and under
what escort these tremulous fugitives were conveyed past the lines of
military occupancy I cannot determine. Altogether it was a wild and
memorable day, and many and wild and wonderful were the tales thereafter
told of it; so that, for the time being, in the case of one small
listener, his old friends the Giants Pope and Pagan, Robinson Crusoe and
Friday, and even the eagle-captured children of the far West Highlands
were quite put into the shade.




MILADY'S CAST-OFFS.


  I found a garment yesterday
    A-lying on the hills;
  'Twas rare with radiant coloring
    And rich with gleaming frills:
  A skirt of crinkled golden-rod
    And purple-aster sleeves,
  A belt of burning cardinals,
    A mantle of brown leaves,
  And a bodice of the laces
    That the dandelion weaves.

  A bonnet trimmed with thistle-blooms
    Was lying not far off,
  And sandals made of birchen bark
    Were satin--brown and buff;
  And dainty, dainty mittens
    Were lying here and there,
  Grown by the loving sumach-tree
    For hands both small and fair,
  With other witching trinkets that
    A woodsy nymph might wear.

  I touched the garments tenderly
    As they were lying there,
  And longed to see the maiden who
    Such finery did wear;
  So roaming through the woodland dale,
    And searching every nook,
  I paused at last to listen
    To the prattle of the brook,
  And all the pretty tale he knew
    Just like a little book:

  These were the gorgeous autumn robes
    Of Nature not long since,
  But now she'll dress in gems and white,
    For she's to wed a prince--
  The wondrous, jolly Winter Prince,
    Fast coming from the north,
  His heralds speeding on the wind,
    Their trumpets shouting mirth;
  And soon a snow-white wedding-feast
    Will spread all o'er the earth.

  SARAH STIRLING MCENERY.




GORGONZOLA, THE AUTHOR.

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.


It was upon the occasion of my second visit to Schnitzelhammerstein on
the Zugvitz that my friend Hans Pumpernickel, who, as some of you may
remember, is the Mayor of the queer old city, let me into the secret of
poor old Gorgonzola's embarrassing situation. We were taking one of our
usual summer-evening walks on the banks of the Zugvitz, and on our way
back to Hans's residence we passed a gloomy-looking old house on the
right-hand side of the Hochstrasse, near the public gardens. With the
exception of a dim light which struggled through a window on the top
floor, the mansion was in utter darkness, and was, in fact, in such
strong contrast to the general air of cheerfulness which is one of the
strongest attributes of this broad avenue that I remarked it.

"Dear me!" I cried, as I stood before it. "What a place of gloom! It
reminds me of a small black cloud on an otherwise perfect sky. Who lives
there?"

"It is the home of poor old Gorgonzola, the author," said Hans, shaking
his head sadly. "The light you see is from his study--his den. It is
there that he is at work."

I did not like to confess my ignorance by telling Hans that I had never
heard of Gorgonzola, the author. For all I knew, Gorgonzola, the author,
might be one of the features of the town, and so, wishing neither to
betray my ignorance nor to offend my kindly host, I said:

"Oh! Really? How interesting!"

At this remark Hans threw his head back and laughed. "Is it so?" he
said. "Indeed, now, how interesting do you find it?"

"Well," I replied, after some hesitation, "we have a word in our
language which expresses it. 'Quite' is the word. I find it quite
interesting, though, to tell you the truth, my dear Mr. Mayor, I never
heard of Herr Gorgonzola before. In our country almost every town of
importance has an author of which it is proud, and it was only my desire
to be tactful that kept me from asking, when you mentioned Gorgonzola,
who on earth he was. The fact that I never heard of him does not prove
that he is not a great man. What has he written?"

"Nothing--practically nothing. He hasn't even written a poem for the
Schnitzelhammerstein _Blaetter_."

"Then why do you call him an author?" I asked.

"Because," Hans replied, naïvely, "every man has to do something, and
poor old Gorgonzola is nothing else. Besides, he called himself that."

There was a pause. I was more or less baffled to know what to say, and
in accordance with the old German maxim, "When you nothing have to say
already, do not say it yet," I deemed it well to keep silent.
Fortunately, before the silence that followed became too deep,
Pumpernickel himself put in with,

"He did not want to call himself an author, but he had to. You know we
have a Directory here in our city--a great, thick, heavy book--"

"Which he wrote?" I suggested, desiring to say something, for I had in
mind that other old proverb, "He who says nothing, has nothing to say;
and having nothing to say, therefore thinks nothing in his brains."

"Not at all, not at all," cried Hans, impatiently. "He merely let them
use his name in it for completeness' sake. You see, it was this way,"
the Mayor continued. "When Bingenburg and Rheinfels went to our Board of
Trade and said let us get up the Directory of this city, the Board of
Trade said: 'Donner and Blitzen! not unless you make it complete. The
last Directory was full of addresses that no one wished to know, and had
none that would help a stranger to our town.'

"'We will make it complete,' said Bingenburg and Rheinfels. 'There shall
be no living soul in Schnitzelhammerstein on the Zugvitz whose name and
occupation and domicile shall not be down in full.'

"'Then,' said the Board of Trade, 'you may make the Directory, but if we
find one name left out, or without an occupation and an address, then
will we not only not endorse your Directory, but we will say it is bad,
and advise the citizens of this town not to go to those addresses which
you print.'

"'We will do our best,' said Bingenburg and Rheinfels.

"'That's good,' replied the Board of Trade. 'Go ahead. What we have
feared from experience is that you would do your worst.'

"And so," continued Hans Pumpernickel to me, "these persons were
commissioned to prepare a Directory for Schnitzelhammerstein on the
Zugvitz. They went ahead and got most everybody. In their original
manuscript, submitted to the Board of Trade, they had entries like this:
'Hans Blumenthal, baby, Altgeldstrasse, 19 bis.' They had 'Gretchen
Frorumelstine, doll-fancier, 4612 Funf Avenue'--in fact, they had every
single human being in town, by name and by occupation, however trivial,
mentioned.

"Now, of course, to do this they had to see everybody, and among others
they saw poor old Gorgonzola, and he willingly gave them his address and
his name.

"'But your occupation?' said the agent, instructed beforehand already.

"'I have none,' said he.

"'Then we put you down as "Wilhelm Gorgonzola, nothing,"' said the
agent.

"'But I am not nothing,' cried Gorgonzola.

"'Then what are you--a butcher?" said the agent.

"'You are insulting,' said Gorgonzola, indignantly.

"'We may be, but we do not intend to be,' said the agent. 'The man who
is nothing is nothing; if he is not nothing, he is something else.
Therefore you may be a butcher.'

"'You cannot have my name at all, then,' said Gorgonzola, with an angry
wave of his hand.

"'Oh yes, we can,' replied the agent. 'Your name is here. Therefore we
have your name and address. Your occupation is what we wish to learn. If
you are not occupied, we will put you down as "vacant," or "to let," or
as "nothing." We are under contract to the Board of Trade to give them a
complete Directory, and we intend to do so. What, then, are you?'

"'Well, you see,' said Gorgonzola, desperately, 'as yet I am nothing,
but I hope to be an author--'

"'And how soon do you hope to be an author?" asked the agent.

"'It may come at any time--to-morrow, or the next day--or the day
after--'

"'Oh, well, then, it is all right already,' put in the agent, 'for our
Directory will not be out before that. Under no circumstances can we
have it ready before to-morrow, or the next day, or the day after. I
will therefore put you down as an "author," for doubtless you will be
one before our Directory is published.'

"To this," Hans continued, "poor old Gorgonzola weakly consented. You
see, he fully expected to be one before the Directory came out; but,
alas! he was too hopeful. The day of publication arrived, and as yet he
had not written a line. He sent word to Bingenburg and Rheinfels, and
begged them to wait a month; but they said no, they would wait ten days
and no longer.

"'But I have not yet even an idea for my book,' said Gorgonzola.

"'That is not our fault,' replied Bingenburg and Rheinfels. 'You have had
six months in which to become an "author"; we grant you ten days more.
If you are not one by that time, our Directory will have to come out,
anyhow, and inasmuch as we have your authorization to put you down as
such, we shall require that you shall be one at least in name by then,
for we have promised that the book shall have no errors. If we get into
trouble with the Board of Trade on your account, then shall we sue you
for the damages!'"

"The poor old fellow," said I, my sympathy aroused.

[Illustration: BINGENBURG CAME IN PERSON TO SEE HIM.]

"It was a dreadfully hard position for him, no doubt," said Hans; "but,
after all, it was his own fault, and has been so ever since. When the
ten days were up, Gorgonzola had even yet not an idea, much less a book,
and Bingenburg came in person to see him. Gorgonzola begged him to blot
out the word author, but neither he nor Rheinfels would go to the
expense, and they threatened that if he ever denied that he was an
author, in public or in private, they would ruin him. 'It is all your
own doings,' said Rheinfels. 'We would gladly have put you down as a
butcher, or a baker, or anything else that is easy to be, and you would
not let us. We offered to put you down as a nothing, and you grew angry,
and it was yourself that said you expected to be an author before our
Directory came out, and we put you down so with your consent. Now our
Directory has cost us five thousand thalers to make, and if one mistake
is found therein the Board of Trade will decline to take it off our
hands, and we shall lose all that money; and so it comes that you have
got to keep your promise to us and be what you said you would.'

"'I see,' moaned Gorgonzola; 'I cannot blame you, Rheinfels. But it is
awfully hard.'

"'It would have been easier to be a butcher, but you would not,' put in
Bingenburg.

"'I know, I know,' said Gorgonzola, 'but I hate butchering.'

"'Well, anyhow,' said Rheinfels, 'the entry is going to attract
attention, and the Board of Trade will try to find an error in the book
so that they may not have to pay us, and we want you to understand that
we hold you responsible for this. If they summon you, you must confess.'

"'Confess?' cried Gorgonzola. 'Confess what?'

"'That you are an author,' said Rheinfels, calmly.

"'But suppose they ask me of what?' pleaded Gorgonzola, wringing his
hands.

"'That is your business, not ours,' retorted Bingenburg and Rheinfels in
one breath, and with that they left him.

"And so it happened," continued Hans. "The Directory was published, and
the Board of Trade appointed a Committee of Three on Errors, who should
read the book and see if it should be paid for or confiscated. Ten
possible errors were discovered. Nine of them were found not to be
errors, but in the case of Gorgonzola they reported that since he was
not an author there was clearly one error in the book, and that they
therefore recommended the non-acceptance of the Directory. The Board so
decided, and Bingenburg and Rheinfels carried their case to the courts.
The Board of Trade stated that they had rejected the book upon the
agreement in the contract that one error should be sufficient to relieve
them of the payment required, and they had fifty witnesses to say that
Gorgonzola was not an author, but a mild-mannered gentleman who had
struck them as being a querist.

"'A querist?' asked the Judge.

"'Yes,' said the witnesses. 'A querist--one who is only queer and
nothing else.'

"Then Bingenburg and Rheinfels called Gorgonzola as a witness. Poor old
fellow! he felt awfully about it, but he had to testify.

"'Your name,' said the lawyer.

[Illustration: HANS JOSEF WILHELM GORGONZOLA, AUTHOR.]

"'Hans Josef Wilhelm Gorgonzola,' he replied.

"'A good name for an author,' sneered the lawyer. 'What is your
business?'

"'I am an author,' said Gorgonzola, with tears in his eyes.

"'He confesses it! he confesses it!' cried Bingenburg and Rheinfels,
overjoyed, while the Board of Trade looked blue, and the Judge called
the firm to order.

"'Author of what?' asked the lawyer, triumphantly.

"Gorgonzola hesitated, and Bingenburg and Rheinfels held their breath.

"'Of--what I have written,' said Gorgonzola, sadly.

"'And what is that?' insisted the lawyer.

"'I cannot tell,' said Gorgonzola, 'because it--it is my secret. If I
told what I have written, some one else might steal it and publish it
over his name, and all my work would be gone for nothing, which is
hardly fair.'

"'A good point,' said the Judge, nodding pleasantly at Gorgonzola.

"'But you have never published anything?' said the lawyer in a manner so
impressive as to affect the jury.

"'No,' said Gorgonzola. 'No, I have never published anything; but that
is because I am not a publisher. If I were a publisher, I should
publish. As I am only an author, I merely authorize.'

"'Do not authors frequently publish?' asked the lawyer.

"'Often,' returned Gorgonzola. 'But I am not of that kind. It is said by
some who seem to know that the best books are still unwritten, much less
published. I am writing one of the unwritten and unpublished books.'

"'Yet you have written something?' suggested the Judge, who admired the
modest demeanor of Gorgonzola.

"'Yes,' said Gorgonzola. 'I have written the first paragraph of my new
book.'

"'Then,' said the Judge, 'the entry is correct. If he has written the
first paragraph, or even the first word of his new novel, he is an
author, and I so decide. Next case.'

"So," said Hans, "it was decided that Gorgonzola was properly entered as
an author on the pages of the Schnitzelhammerstein Directory, and the
Board of Trade was compelled to pay for it. That," Hans added, "was
twenty years ago."

"As long ago as that, eh?" said I. "And was Gorgonzola's novel published
later?"

"No," said Hans. "Not yet. You see, he is still at work on it. That is
why you see that dim light from his study window. Gorgonzola begins work
at seven in the morning and retires at midnight. He is still at work on
the novel, but, having written that first paragraph, we of course allude
to him as the Author."

I laughed again. I had to, though I still had a great sympathy for
Gorgonzola.

"What was his first paragraph?" I asked, very much interested; "or don't
you know?"

"Yes, indeed, I know," replied Hans. "He has read it to me many times.
Let's see--it is like this: 'It was a pleasant day in June. The buds
were bursting on the trees, and all nature seemed alive, as Gretchen
walked down the stairs and out into the garden.'"

"That's a good start," said I. "And tell me, Mr. Mayor, how far has he
got in these twenty years?"

"He is still at work on his second paragraph," said the Mayor.

"Well," said I, "there's a good story for you--but, after all, Hans, it
hasn't much of a moral."

"Oh yes, it has," retorted Hans. "It has a great moral. In fact you
English-speaking people have the very moral well expressed."

"Indeed," said I, anxiously, "what is that?"

"First be sure you write, then go ahead," said Hans, simply.




THE MIDDLETON BOWL.[1]

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

BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.


CHAPTER V.

Yes, some one was in the room. Theodora felt a little thrill of
excitement as she realized this fact. Was it a robber who had hidden
there? Perhaps, though, it was only one of the servants. She felt almost
disappointed when this thought crossed her mind--a robber would be so
much more uncommon. And yet he might try to kill her; robbers frequently
did such things. She withdrew more into the shadow, and waited.

Not another sound was to be heard. Brave as she naturally was, Theodora
felt a tremor of fear as she sat there in the silence of the night. She
was quite sure that she had heard something; of that there was no doubt.
She knew with absolute certainty that some one or something alive was in
her aunts' parlor besides herself.

Should she go and call somebody? No, that would not do, for her aunts
had had too much excitement already. If they knew that a burglar--for it
certainly might be one--was in the drawing-room they would without doubt
scream and faint, and that would be bad for her aunt Joanna, to say the
least. The servants would be useless, for they were all elderly, and
were quite as unstrung as were their five mistresses, and John, the only
man of the household, was ill in his room over the stable.

The doctor was upstairs, to be sure, but it was early in the night, and
he was in close attendance upon his patient, who was not yet out of
danger. All these thoughts passed rapidly through Teddy's mind, and she
saw that she must act alone.

"I don't believe a robber would kill a little girl," she said to
herself, "and I will speak to him very politely."

Her first act was to walk around the room pulling up all the
Venetian-blinds as high as they would go. There were seven windows in
the large room--two at each end, and three on the side that had the two
fireplaces. On the fourth side of the room were two doors, one leading
into the front hall, the other into the back. The parlor occupied the
whole of that side of the main house. The kitchens were in the "L" at
the back, cut off by a door into the hall.

It required some courage to go from window to window, particularly when
Teddy reached that part of the room whence the sound had come, but she
felt that she must have as much light as possible. Her fingers trembled
as she tried to fasten the cord which held the blinds. Once their
strength failed them, and the slats of the blind fell down with a
terrifying clatter; but she pulled them up again, and wound the cord
firmly about the hook.

At last the seven shades were up, and the room was as light as the world
without. Only here and there lay a black shadow which might
contain--anything! Teddy then took up her position near the door, that
she might escape should affairs become very alarming, and tried to
speak. At first not a sound came from her. She cleared her throat, and
tried again.

"Is anybody in this room?" she asked. Only the silence and the shadows
made reply. "I am quite sure some one is," she continued, gaining
courage at the sound of her own voice; "I heard you breathe a little
while ago, and I heard you knock something. If you don't come out I
shall have to go and call Dr. Morton, who is upstairs. He is with my
aunt Joanna, who is very ill. I should lock the parlor doors while I am
gone, so you couldn't get out."

She thought this was a brilliant inspiration, quite forgetting the seven
windows within easy reach of the ground. To this long speech, however,
there was no reply.

"I declare, it is too bad!" went on Teddy. "I do think you might say
something. I won't let any one hurt you, and if you are a robber I'll
let you get away as easily as anything, if you'll only come out!"

She ceased again, and suddenly a voice replied. It sounded so near, and
it was so unexpected--for she had now almost made up her mind that no
one was there, after all--that it made Teddy jump.

"Do you mean that?" it said.

"Yes, of course I do," said she, speaking very rapidly, and fixing her
eyes upon the old-fashioned sofa with the high back, whence the voice
seemed to proceed. "Please come out and tell me who you are and what you
want."

The sofa was placed across a corner, and as Teddy watched it eagerly it
was pushed slightly from behind, and a boyish figure rose against the
wall. There was something about the intruder that seemed familiar to
her, and she stepped forward.

"Why--why, is it you?" she exclaimed, as the boy climbed over the sofa
and stood in the moonlight.

"Yes, it's me," was the reply.

Sure enough, it was Andy Morse, the boy who stoned the kitten.

"Why, what do you want here?" asked Teddy, all her fear vanishing at
sight of this well-known face. "I am so glad it is you, for, do you
know, I was really afraid it was somebody come to steal something. What
have you come for, and why did you come in such a queer way in the
middle of the night?"

The boy shuffled his feet, and looked away from her.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she continued.

"Yes," said he, in a hoarse whisper; "I'm awful hungry."

"Oh, are you? Well, just wait here, and I'll get you something to eat.
Or perhaps you had better come with me, for my aunts don't like to have
eating in the parlor. You might drop the crumbs, you know. I often do.
We'll go out to the kitchen; but first I must find some matches."

"Here's one," said Morse, diving into his pocket.

He followed her through the door into the back hall. She could not reach
the gas-burner, so he lighted it for her both there and in the kitchen.
She went to the bread-box and took out a loaf of Catharine's delicious
Graham-bread, and then she went to the refrigerator in the hall and
procured some butter. A pitcher of milk and some cold mutton were also
within reach. These she brought and placed upon the kitchen table,
inviting her guest at the same time to draw up a chair. Then, having
supplied him with a knife and fork, and some cookies which she found in
the store-room, she sat down at the table herself.

"I am hungry too," she remarked, affably. "I have been up all night, and
I went after the doctor on a bicycle. It makes you awfully hungry to do
so much in the night."

Her guest made no reply to this, but devoted himself to his supper with
an avidity which left no doubt of his being hungry himself. Every drop
of the milk had disappeared, every scrap of meat upon the mutton bone
had been devoured before he spoke. Then he pushed back his chair. "Thank
you," said he. "I 'ain't had nothin' ter eat since day before
yesterday."

"Oh!" cried Theodora, "I don't wonder you were hungry! Won't you have
something more? Why, how did it happen?"

"It happened 'cause I'm tired of askin' folks ter give me somethun when
they don't want ter, and I 'ain't had no money ter pay for it, and yer
can't get nothin' without payin' for it unless yer wants ter get chucked
inter jail. So that is the reason I come here. I thought I'd get ter
jail sooner or later, and I might as well try for somethun big first.
Yer don't much care what yer do when yer as hungry as I was."

"What do you mean?" asked Teddy. "I don't quite understand what you say
about jail."

The boy looked at her in silence for a moment or two. "Look ahere," said
he, at last. "I thought I hated yer 'count o' that black eye yer give me
long o' that cat. I 'ain't never been set onter by a girl before, and it
jest made me rippin' mad. I didn't s'pose I'd ever git over it, and I'd
'a' liked ter 'a' paid yer back over and over again, but I feel
diff'runt now. Yer've been mighty perlite, and give me as good a lot o'
victuals as I ever tasted. I feel better, now I've got somethun inside
o' me, and I'm agoin' ter tell yer somethun. I don't believe, after all,
as yer the kind o' girl as would git me inter trouble."

"Oh no; of course not!" said Teddy, earnestly. "I was very mad at you
that day, for I do think it is perfectly horrible for any one to hurt an
animal. I'm sorry I hurt you very badly, but I may just as well tell you
the truth. You had better never do it again if you see me anywhere near,
for I am sure, perfectly sure, that it would make me just as mad as it
did that day, and I am very much afraid I should attack you the same
way. My aunts did not like my doing it at all, and they said it was
unladylike, and I suppose it was. But oh! you don't know how angry it
makes me to see any one cruel to animals!"

They were standing facing each other, the little girl in her pretty red
frock, with the mass of tumbled brown hair falling over her shoulders;
the tall ungainly boy in his ragged clothes, twisting his hat in his
hands as he listened to this tirade. When she had finished, he lifted
his eyes and looked at her admiringly.

[Illustration: "I WON'T STONE NO MORE KITTENS, NOT IF I CAN HELP IT, NOR
PUPPIES NEITHER."]

"Yer a good one," said he. "I kinder like yer underneath fer it, though
yer did give me a black eye and make me mad. And yer've been that good
ter me ter-night, givin' me such a lot ter eat, that I'm willin' ter
promise yer somethun. I won't stone no more kittens, not if I can help
it, nor puppies neither."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Theodora, fervently. "I am so much obliged to you
for saying that! Will you really be kind to animals after this? You
don't know what a relief to my mind it is. I have often thought of you
since, and wondered if you were being cruel; and now I shall feel quite
easy about you. The poor kitten died, you know."

Morse said nothing to this.

"And we had a funeral," continued Teddy. "That was a dreadful day
altogether, except the funeral. That was nice, but a terrible misfortune
happened to our family that day. But you said you were going to tell me
something. Was it about being kind to animals?"

"No, it warn't about animals."

"What was it?" asked Theodora, much interested.

"Will yer promise not ter git me inter trouble?" he asked again.

"Of course I'll promise."

"Then I'll tell yer. Do yer know how I got in here ter-night?"

"No; I was going to ask you that."

"Well, yer know when yer went out on the bike?"

"When I went for the doctor? Yes."

"Well, I was down near the gate, a-hangin' round, not knowin' what I was
agoin' ter do, and when I seen yer go by, I thinks here's a chance. Most
likely she's left a door open or somethun, and I can git in and git
somethun or other. Yer see, I was so hungry I was ready for anything.
And I found the back door open, and I walked in as easy as anything. I
was afraid to hide in the kitchen, for I heard people movin' round, so I
crep' inter the parlor, for I knew the big sofa there'd hide me."

"Why, how did you know that?" asked Theodora. "Have you ever been in our
parlor?"

The boy dropped his eyes again, and again shifted his hat.

"I jest thought there'd be some place there," said he; "most folks has
sofas."

"And what were you going to do? Were you going to stay there all night?"

"I was agoin' ter stay there till the house got quiet, and then I was
agoin' ter make a grab and be off."

"A grab?" repeated Teddy, wonderingly.

"Yes, a grab. I was agoin' ter take a lot o' things--them silver things
and some o' the chiny--anythin' I could get."

"You mean you were going to _steal_ something?"

"Yes," he said, doggedly.

Theodora drew a step nearer.

"Then you were a robber after all!" she said. "I never saw one before.
But oh, I am so sorry it was you! I am _too_ sorry! I was just getting
to like you, because you said you would be kind to animals after this.
Are, you really a robber?"

"I ain't one yet," said the boy, "and now I dun'no' as I'll ever be one.
I feel kinder diff'runt about it, now I've got somethun inside o' me. I
guess you'd feel like stealin' if yer hadn't had nothin' ter eat since
day before yesterday."

"I do believe I would," said Theodora, compassionately; "it must be
perfectly awful! But oh, I hope you won't steal anything. It is such a
wicked thing to do. You know there is a commandment entirely about that,
so it must be one of the wickedest things there are. _Please_ don't
steal!"

"I won't," said Andy Morse. "I feel diff'runt now."

There was a pause, while Theodora rapidly thought over the situation.

"What are you going to do to-morrow?" she asked. "How will you get
something to eat then?"

"Dun'no'. Trust ter luck, I guess."

"Haven't you any relations?"

"Only an uncle, and he's drunk most o' the time and won't give me
nothin'."

"And won't any of your friends give you anything?"

"'Ain't got none, and I'm tired of askin' people ter give me victuals.
There ain't no one as seems ter want ter. Yer see, I've got a kinder bad
name round here. That's the reason I can't get no work."

"Wouldn't you like some money?" asked Teddy. "I've got some upstairs I
could very well give you, if you would let me. Then you could buy
yourself something to eat for a few days, at any rate."

The boy looked at her. "Yer a real good un," said he, after a moment's
grateful pause. "If I had a little money ter git some decent clo'es, I
might git some work somewhere or other. I'd rather be honest if I can,
but a poor shabby-lookin' feller like me don't stand no chance, and
everybody in Alden thinks I'm no good. If I could git away from here, I
might git somethun ter do somewheres else. Do yer really mean yer'd give
me some money?"

"Of course I do," replied Teddy; "I'll go up and get it now. It's in my
bank. Suppose we put this light out and go back to the parlor; you can
wait for me there."

They reached the drawing-room door, and Teddy, opening it, motioned to
her guest to go in and be seated. The moonlight still flooded the room,
and it lighted up the old silver snuffers and trays, the tall silver
candelabra which flanked both ends of the two mantel-pieces, and even
Great-grandfather Middleton's gold snuff-box, which was always kept upon
a cabinet in the front of the room.

"Say!" exclaimed Andy Morse, in a sharp whisper; "ain't yer 'fraid ter
leave me here with all them things? Ain't yer 'fraid I might steal 'em,
after all?"

"Oh no," said Theodora, following him into the room and closing the
door; "of course not. You just told me you wouldn't steal, that you were
going to be honest, and _of course_ I believe you."

And then she went out of the parlor and left him alone in the moonlight
with the gold and the silver, and all the priceless china, from the
Middleton bowl down. She was absent about ten minutes. When she returned
she carried a small silk bag in her hand, which she gave to Morse.

"It is all in there," she said--"all I have. I just emptied my bank
right into that work-bag, for I thought it would be easier for you to
carry the money that way. I don't know how much there is there, but I
think it is about fifteen dollars, for I've been saving it for some
time. It seems heavy, for so much of it is in pennies and five and ten
cent pieces, but I don't believe you will mind carrying it."

Andy Morse was speechless. He took the bag, shook it, weighed it, looked
at it in the light. Twice he tried to speak, but no words came.

"Do yer--do yer really mean ter give me all this?" he stammered at last.

"Certainly I do," replied Teddy. "I only hope it will be enough for you
to get what you want."

"Look ahere," said Andy; "jest yer listen ter me! I solemnly promise
I'll act straight after this. I won't steal, and I won't hurt no
animals, and I won't do nothin' yer wouldn't like. And if I ever make
enough, I'll pay yer back this money, sure 's I'm alive. I'll count it,
and I'll pay yer back every cent. Do yer believe me?"

"Yes, indeed I do; but you needn't bother about paying it back, for you
really need it a great deal more than I do." As she spoke her glance
fell upon the Middleton bowl, gleaming in the moonlight. "Before you go,
I want to show you this," she said, moving over to the Chinese table in
the window.

"This was broken the day--the day the kitten died, and we can't find out
who did it. It is very, very valuable, and all of our family think more
of it than anything else we own, because my great-grandfather brought it
home and gave it to his son, and when my aunts die it is to go to my
father, and then to me. It is never to go out of the family, and now it
is broken, and had to be mended. We can't find out who did it, and it
has given us lots of trouble. My aunts thought at first that I did it,
and sometimes they think so now, I am sure; but I didn't. It makes me so
unhappy to think they don't believe me." She paused for a moment and
gazed at the bowl. Then she continued. "It isn't nice not to be
believed, and that is the reason I am telling you about it. I just
happened to think of it. I want to tell you again that I really and
truly believe you. I don't want you to feel unhappy about that, the way
I do about the Middleton bowl."

Andy looked at it in silence. Then he turned away.

"I'm agoin' now," he said. "Good-by. Yer've saved me, and I'll never
forgit it. Would yer please tell me what yer name is?" he asked, shyly.
"Yer first name, I mean. Of course I know yer other name's Middleton."

"Theodora," said she, "but everybody calls me Teddy, and I like that
best. Good-by! I hope you will be able to get some work. I'm very glad I
came down here to-night. If Aunt Joanna hadn't been so ill I shouldn't
have come. If I can ever do anything else for you, I wish you would tell
me. Please go out the back door, the way you came in, if you don't mind,
for I am afraid my aunts might hear the front door shut, and it would
frighten them."

She followed him to the back door and watched him walk away in the
moonlight, swinging the bag in his hand. Then she closed the door and
went back to the drawing-room.

"It must be dreadful to be so hungry," she said, to herself, as she
again stood by the Middleton bowl, "and I'm glad I told him I believed
him. It certainly is dreadful not to be believed."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




A LOYAL TRAITOR.

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

BY JAMES BARNES.


CHAPTER XVI.

WHY I NEVER REACHED FRANCE.

We drew up our horses before the house nearest to the stone pier or
jetty that ran out some hundred feet or more from the shore. On one side
of it was a small dock or basin large enough to give shelter to four or
five fishing-boats about the size of those we call dories in New
England.

As we dismounted, Monsieur de Brissac gave a halloo, and a figure
appeared in the doorway. I was surprised to see that it was Monsieur de
la Remy. He called back into the room, and a man followed him out and
took our horses.

"Ah, De Brissac! you're on time as usual, and I see that you have not
forgotten your way," Monsieur de la Remy cried, as he grasped my
patron's elbows in his two hands in a half embrace. Then he bowed to me
without much effusion. "Good-morning, Monsieur le Marquis," was all he
said.

I had not known that my host of the Gloucester Arms was going to be one
of us, and so expressed my surprise at seeing him. He made no
explanation, but I take it he must have been in London for some time,
and that he had come direct from there, although I had not met him at
any of the routs or parties I had attended.

"Why should I forget my way, monsieur?" my patron said, laughing, as he
paused on the door-step. "Have I not travelled it every month for three
years?"

As we entered the house the Marquis de Senez was standing at the door,
and greeted us in his usual reserved way. We were in a large room, and I
noticed the smell of the same kind of tobacco that the sailors use on
shipboard in the English service--a smell that seems to cling to them
and to all of their belongings--but apparently none of the gentlemen had
been smoking.

"Everything is most propitious," said De Senez, as he brought forward
two chairs from the table. "Dame Fortune smiles on us. But pardon me;
you have not noticed Monsieur de Rembolez."

It was then that I saw for the first time that there was a figure
sitting back in the dark shadows in the corner of the room. I recognized
the name, and as soon as the man stepped forward into the light of the
single candle, I remembered his face, and that I had seen it in London.
He was a sharp-featured, thick-set man--that is, big as to his chest and
shoulders, but very light and muscular in his underpinning. His eyes
were so black that they appeared all pupils, and his teeth were so large
and even that I believe that he could have bitten a tenpenny nail in two
with them, as his jaw also looked strong as a vise. I did not like the
man, and as I had good cause to remember afterwards, he on his part had
conceived no great affection for me.

At the mention of my name he merely glanced up and showed his teeth, at
which I was tempted to show mine in return, for the meaning of that
display was rather ambiguous. He was to be the fifth one of the party,
and I am quite sure he was not of Monsieur de Brissac's choosing.

"It's a good night for the crossing," observed Monsieur de Senez. "Did
you see the lookout on the cliff as you came down?"

"I doubt not he saw us," retained my patron. "But he probably kept well
hidden. Is everything ready? Is Captain St. Croix here?"

"Yes, and most of his crew within calling distance," returned the
steel-jawed man, casting a look over his shoulder.

I saw no door, or anything that would suggest that there was an
adjoining room, for the one we were in occupied the whole ground-floor
of the house; but behind De Rembolez was a tall oak cupboard that
reached almost to the ceiling. There had come a lull in our
conversation; De Senez and the host of the Gloucester Arms were talking
in whispers, and Monsieur de Brissac was engaged in pulling off his
heavy riding-boots. All at once the low grumbling of men's voices in
talk was heard, and then an oath in good seafaring English issued
apparently from the tall cupboard. I fairly jumped as the door of it was
opened outward and a great, black-whiskered man stepped out of it. Then
I saw where the smell of tobacco came from, for the smoke rolled out
with him, and the ember in his long clay pipe was glowing.

[Illustration: ASTONISHED, I LOOKED PAST HIM, AND SAW THAT THE CUPBOARD
CONCEALED A GOOD-SIZED TRAP-DOOR.]

Astonished, I looked past him, and saw that the cupboard concealed a
good-sized trap-door; it was open, the top of a ladder extended through
the floor, and the sound of voices came from below. It was a most
ingenious idea. The cellar to which this passageway led was not under
the house, but under the garden at the back of it. The floor of the room
in which we were was made of hard, dry earth, and digging there would
have revealed nothing.

I found out, by questioning afterwards on the voyage over, that the two
other houses which abutted on the innocent-looking garden also had
passageways that led to the cleverly concealed smugglers' cabin.

The bewhiskered man was addressed by the company as Captain St. Croix,
but I would bet a new anchor to a ship's biscuit that he was more
English than French, although his accent was fairly good.

"It looks the night for our purpose, gentlemen," he said. "We have
brewed a punch below. What say you I send for some of it, and we will
pledge a successful passage to the _Hirondelle_, eh?"

"And destruction to the Corsican upstart," put in he of the beady eyes.

The Captain gave a halloo down the shaft and ordered some one to bring
up the punch-bowl. At the same time he set about getting us something to
eat from a rough side-board near the fireplace.

Just as a man's head appeared coming up the ladder there were three
sharp knocks on the door, and a tall fisher-lad in a dripping great-coat
came in.

"It's thick and raining," he said. "I've seen the lights of the old
boat. She'll be off the point in a few minutes."

"Then we must bear a hand," said the Captain. "So, gentlemen, let us eat
and drink and dispense with ceremony."

I was very hungry, and fell to at once, as did the others. In half an
hour we left the shelter of the house, and hurrying down to the dock, we
were all crowded into one of the row-boats. Then pulling away, we headed
against the driving rain through the half-darkness.

As it was wet when we reached the _Hirondelle_, I followed the four
other gentlemen down into the little cabin, although my love of the sea
was returning so strongly that I was tempted to stay on deck and court a
soaking.

The little box of a place in which we were sitting was dimly lighted
with a swinging lamp, and as we conversed of the plot and object of our
trip (of which I shall say nothing), I could tell that we were
travelling at a good rate of speed by the rushing and lapping of the
water against the bull. The reason I do not give any full account of the
plot in which I was supposed to be engaged is that I think even now I
should keep it silent, as it concerns neither me nor my story.

After a time we all fell asleep, most of us in a sitting posture, and I
was the first to awaken. It was between three and four, and still
raining, when I came out of the close musty cabin and breathed the fine
air. I noticed we had shortened sail, and that a man in the bow was
heaving the lead. He did not call out the soundings, but signalled them
to the Captain by motions of his hand. I knew we must be in shoal water,
but in how many fathoms I could not tell. All at once the man at the
wheel threw the lugger up into the wind, and we lay hove to for probably
half an hour. Every one on deck was listening.

Suddenly the dark shape of a great row-boat could be seen approaching,
and going below into the cabin I aroused the rest of the passengers; De
Rembolez appeared rather nervous.

Where the lugger put off her cargo I do not know, for as soon as the
five of us had clambered over her side into the row-boat, and Monsieur
De Senez had given a handful of gold to the Captain, the latter stood
off presumably to the southward, while we rowed directly to the east.

Not a word had been spoken by the rowers or the man at the tiller, and I
was so interested in wondering what next was going to happen that I was
perfectly satisfied to curb my curiosity and ask no questions. I was not
anxious to anticipate, and felt really sad to think that I was soon to
leave M. De Brissac--for what, I knew not.

We were off the coast between Dunkerque and Gravelines, and I should
judge that the boat had rowed out some seven or eight miles. The men at
the oars looked part Dutch and part French. They were a
villanous-looking set, however, and the fellow at the tiller appeared
little above them in order of intelligence; but while we were pulling
straight ahead, the cockswain suddenly stood up straight in his box.

"Arrêtez!" he whispered, hoarsely.

The men backed-water skilfully, but yet such headway did the boat have
on that it required three or four efforts before we came to a stop.
There right ahead of us lay a long white, lapstreak boat, sharp at both
ends. She had pulled directly athwart our bows. Had we been keeping a
sharp lookout we would have seen her long before, as her crew must have
had us in sight for some minutes. One glance at them told me that these
men were not Frenchmen. De Rembolez had stood up almost as soon as the
cockswain, and was looking forward eagerly, but I saw his face change to
a puzzled expression.

"Les Anglais!" exclaimed the cockswain between his teeth.

A few strokes of the long oars that the men in the stranger craft
wielded, and she was almost alongside of us.

"Un pilote," said a voice with an execrable accent and a drawling twang
through the nose. "We want a pilot. Avez-vous un pilote?"

"We have no pilot for you!" answered Monsieur de la Remy, in good
English. "Keep away from us."

But what was I doing at this very moment?

It was with difficulty that I was restraining an inclination to plunge
overboard and strike out for the whale-boat.

It is almost past believing, but unless my eyes were playing me false,
there stood my old friend Cy Plummer of the _Minetta_, balancing a
boat-hook in his hand. This aside, it would have required but a close
glance at the wiry, strong-knit figures and the keen sharp-featured
faces, for one who knew, to declare that they were no English press-gang
bullies, but Yankee sailor-men.

I was trying to find my voice, which had left me in my astonishment, but
the nobleman landlord did not notice my condition, and was still
continuing his warning.

"Come no closer," he said. "At your peril. We have no pilot for you."

At the same time he drew from the breast of his coat a small
double-barrelled pistol.

"Who are you and where do you come from?" put in De Rembolez.

There was evidently some consternation in the white boat at hearing the
sound of English. The men were leaning forward preparing to take a
stroke, and Plummer was evidently perplexed and at a loss what to do,
when I found my tongue.

"Plummer! Cy Plummer! get me out of this," I cried.

We were so near by this time that our oars were almost touching, but the
astonishment occasioned on both sides by my sudden outbreak seemed to
paralyze all hands.

"Who in the name of Davy Jones are you?" Plummer questioned, quickly.

"John Hurdiss of the _Young Eagle_," I cried, throwing off my cloak.
Just as I was about to dive overboard I felt myself grasped about the
arm.

It was De Rembolez who had laid hold of me. The words he hissed I did
not catch, but in order to loose myself I drew back my free hand and
caught him a blow fairly between the eyes. He did not relax his hold,
however, and endeavored to throw me into the bottom of the boat.
Although he was a powerful man, he probably did not know much about
wrestling. I had the firmer footing, and twisting him round, I turned
the tables, and was forcing him away from me, when he sank his great
white teeth into the sleeve of my coat. Had he caught my flesh I might
have lost the use of my arm, but as it was he laid hold of the cloth
only, and the sleeve parted at the shoulder; but the little French
cockswain now decided to take a hand, and sprang upon me from behind,
but the result was to my helping. I just remembered hearing the sharp
snapping of Monsieur de la Remy's pistol, which missed fire, when I went
overboard over the gunwale, and with me fell Beady Eyes and the little
cockswain. I came up between the two boats. In the mean time both the
crews were laying about with their oars over my head, and there was a
lusty scrimmage going on. As soon as he felt the water closing over him,
De Rembolez released his hold, but the little 'longshoreman in the
striped shirt still held on, and before I knew it some one grabbed me
and him also, and pulled us both over into the long white boat. Somehow
the combatants had drifted apart, and with a quickness that was
surprising the Yankees had got out their oars and were giving way.

I scrambled to my feet, and looking over the stern I saw that the other
boat was after us, but they never could have caught us had they been
pulling two men on a thwart. In five minutes they turned about and made
off in the opposite direction.

"Douse my top-lights!" exclaimed Plummer, leaning forward and smearing
the blood away from a slight wound on the side of his face. "Where, in
the name of goodness, did you come from, lad?"

"From an English prison, in the first place," I said; "but it's a long
story. Oh, but I will be glad to see our colors again!"

The French cockswain here interrupted any more questions or explanations
by an effort to jump overboard.

"Lay hold of him," cried Plummer to the men in the bow. "Hold the
frog-eater!" and in a minute they had pinioned the little Frenchman
down. "Pull, larboard; hold, star-board!" Plummer cried all at once,
jamming the helm down, and I, following the glance of his eye, saw the
outlines of a vessel not five hundred yards away.

"What ship is that?" I asked.

"The _Yankee_, privateer," my friend replied. "The luckiest vessel ever
launched--that's honest truth. Oh, we've some yarns to spin, my son, and
so must you, and, ecod! we'll have a time of it. I can scarce believe
that it is you at all, lad. But it's just the sort of a thing I might
expect would happen on a cruise like the one we've had since leaving
Buzzard's Bay."

"Well, I have had some adventures myself, Plummer," I said. "And in the
very first place, I owe you a debt of gratitude for the loan of the
clothes and cap, my man."

Now upon my soul I did not mean to be condescending in my speech, but
there must have been something in my tone that caused the honest seaman
to make a change in his.

"I hope they brought you luck, sir," he said.

I noticed that he had said "sir" involuntarily.

"Indeed they did," I returned. "I'll have to tell you all about it."

But now the bowmen were getting in their oars, and we were close
alongside of a small topsail schooner, as fine a bit of ship-building as
one would wish to see. She was hove to, and the great mainsail was
crackling, and the reef-points keeping up a continuous drumming against
it; and the sound was good to my ears.

"What have we here?" called a voice over the rail, only a few feet above
our heads.

"A pilot and a passenger," answered Plummer, fending the whale-boat off
from the side of the schooner with his hands.

A short rope was thrown over to us, and, laying hold of it, I clambered
over the bulwarks, and came down on deck, where I found myself face to
face with one of the strangest-looking figures that I have met in the
course of my adventures.

Before me stood a slight stoop-shouldered man, dressed in a blue
broadcloth coat and a long yellow satin waist-coat. He had on a pair of
tight-fitting buckskin breeches thrust into heavy sea-boots. The
expression on his face was the remarkable thing about him. At first I
thought that he was laughing at me, for his light blue eyes had such an
eager twinkling light in them that they appeared to show amusement. His
mouth was parted in a smile, and a continual lifting and lowering of his
eyebrows lent the idea that he considered me or my appearance some huge
joke.

"Is this the passenger or the pilot?" he asked, lifting a heavy cocked
hat, and giving it a little flourish, as it were, over his head.

"Neither passenger nor pilot," I replied, "but an escaped prisoner from
England, who is anxious to get a chance to fight for America again. I
was captured from the _Young Eagle_, privateer."

The man's voice had surprised me. It was as fresh and young as a boy's.
When I mentioned the _Young Eagle_ he made a grimace as if he were about
to whistle, but he changed it to a little rippling laugh.

"Oh, ho! Temple of Stonington, eh! Such a reckless, careless devil. I
know him. Good sailor, though. So you would ship with us?"

"Yes, sir," I answered. "And try to do my duty."

"Oh, we can use you, never fear," the strange man chuckled. "And now
where are we?"

"Eh?" I ejaculated.

"What's our latitude and longitude?" he inquired.

This was a puzzler for me, for I hardly knew one from the other, and
could not have answered.

"Do you mean to say that you don't know that?" I asked, trying to fend
off answering.

"I haven't the slightest idea where I am," he answered. "I don't know
whether I'm in the English Channel, the North Sea, or the Bay of
Biscay."

This was told to me as if it were another huge joke, but I thought it
was a strange condition for the Captain of a vessel to be in.

"We're off the coast of France," I said, "not far from Dunkerque."

"Dunkerque?" repeated the Captain. "Ho, ho! that's fortunate."

At this moment Plummer, with two or three of the crew of the whale-boat,
which was being hoisted in, came aft. They had the little Frenchman, who
looked half frightened to death, with them.

"Here's the pilot, Captain Gorham," Plummer said, touching his cap.

The Captain's reply to this, and the effect of it, almost took my breath
away.

"Ah, Pierre," he said, "c'est donc vous? How is Madame Burron, and the
little ones?"

The little Frenchman drew back, and then fell at the Captain's feet,
grasping his hand.

"Ah, Capitaine Rieur, bonne fortune!" he cried, and he mumbled something
I could not catch.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




[Illustration: AN IMPROMPTU HOSPITAL FOR EUROPEANS.]

CAPTAIN LEARY'S SAMOAN EXPERIENCE.

SOME STIRRING INCIDENTS IN RECENT AMERICAN NAVAL HISTORY.

BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.


On October 23, 1888, there occurred an incident in Apia Harbor, Samoa,
which sorely tried the patience of Commander Leary, in charge of the
United States war-vessel _Adams_, and which soon led directly to other
incidents that nearly caused a war between this country and Germany. The
representatives of the foreign governments had met a few days before,
and had decided that a "neutral zone" should be established in and about
Apia. A party of unarmed natives were crossing the harbor in one of
their canoes, singing one of their stirring native songs. The Samoans
have beautiful voices, and the lusty melody of their song was rolling
across the water. They had just dug up an old and practically worthless
cannon which the Tamasese party in the civil war had thrown overboard.

[Illustration: A NATIVE WAR CANOE.]

Suddenly two volleys of rifle-shots and several stray shots were fired
from the German war-ship _Adler_ on the canoe.

Fortunately none of the party was killed, but the boat was sunk, and the
natives had to swim to the shore to save their lives. Some of the shots
entered houses of foreigners on shore. Leary's blood boiled with anger
that such an occurrence should happen within the neutral zone, that the
war-ship of any nation should fire on a body of unarmed men, and that
Germany should openly take the side of the Tamasese faction in the
presence of another nation's war-ship. He at once sent a vigorous letter
to the Captain of the _Adler_, in which he said:

     "I have the honor to inform you that the hostile attack made last
     night in this harbor by an armed force under your command upon a
     boat manned by natives, who were harmlessly crossing the harbor,
     was an act that seriously endangered the lives of the Americans and
     others, afloat and ashore, in the vicinity of Matautu, and cannot
     but be regarded otherwise than a most serious affair, coming so
     soon after arranging and accepting terms establishing neutral
     ground within the limits of which no hostilities should occur, with
     a view to securing safety to the foreign residents in and around
     Apia.

     "I am unable to understand your action, as the alleged causes of
     the attack cannot be accepted as justifying such dangerous and
     careless conduct. I shall report the affair to my government as a
     gross violation of the principles of international law, and as a
     breach of neutrality.

     "For the security of Americans and others within the neutral lines
     I protest against the apparently unwarranted attack made by your
     men last night, and also against a recurrence of any hostile action
     within the harbor, whereby the lives of foreigners and
     non-combatants would be jeopardized."

Leary did as he said he would do, and the records of the Navy Department
show that in his report to the Secretary of the Navy he characterized
this conduct by the Germans as a "most dastardly disregard for the
safety of human life, as well as a cowardly breach of faith and
neutrality." In this connection it may be said that in some cases the
language of Leary's reports was softened when they were transmitted to
Congress. A close examination of the written and printed reports shows
many adjectives and phrases omitted. One can imagine what was omitted.

[Illustration: THE VAISIGNANO BRIDGE.]

A few days before the natives were fired upon by the _Adler_'s men
another incident had occurred which showed the spirit that animated
Leary. The Vaisignano bridge that connected the town of Apia with a
suburb where most of the foreigners lived had been partly wrecked by a
storm. Under the inspiration of the German authorities advertisements
had been called for the removal of the bridge. This would have cut the
foreigners off from the town, and have seriously crippled the work in
the offices of the various consuls. It was proposed to establish a ferry
instead of repairing the bridge. Leary saw the notice calling for the
removal of the bridge posted on a tree near the bridge, and without
hesitation tore it down, and sent word to the authorities that that
bridge must not be removed. He then declared that he would repair the
bridge, and protect it, if necessary, while this was being done with an
armed force. Early the next day he lowered some boats from the _Adams_,
and filled them with his sailors and marines fully armed. Then he sent
his carpenters ashore, and they started to repair the bridge. The
commander of the English war-ship in the harbor saw what was going on,
and he also sent carpenters to assist in the work, and that bridge was
never disturbed after that. The English and American residents on the
island afterward co-operated in providing a suitable hospital for the
wounded in the Samoan fights, and in caring for them.

By this time there was a state of almost open hostility between the
German and American war-ships. The great crisis came on November 15,
1888. About seven miles from Apia the forts of the Tamasese party and
the Mataafa party faced each other on property that was clearly under
American protection. The Mataafa party had received notice from the
Germans to vacate the place or take the consequences. Mataafa hastily
sent a runner to Captain Leary and informed him of the situation. He
asked for advice. Leary sent word that he had a right to remain where he
was, giving him some simple information in international law. Leary also
said that he would not permit the German war-ship to fire on property
under his protection.

Leary received his information about dusk on November 14. The _Adler_
was to start out the next morning just before daybreak. Leary at once
sent word to all of his officers who were ashore to report on board the
ship by midnight, and to ask no questions. He knew that the Germans
expected to steal a march on him, and were watching him to see if he had
steam up. Had they seen smoke coming out of the smoke-pipes of the
_Adams_ they would have probably postponed the proposed attack until
some time when they might catch Leary napping. He was ready for them. He
had some anthracite coal on board. He transferred some live coals from
his galley fire to the furnace under one boiler of the ship, and by
using hard coal had a fire started there without attracting the
attention of the Germans. It was slow work. When the fire was going well
under the first boiler, he transferred live coals to another boiler, and
then to another, and soon after midnight had full steam up on board the
ship. The Germans, who always kept steam up, had not the slightest
inkling of Leary's action.

Then Leary had his anchor-chains muffled with native mats, and waited
for the outcome. All hands were summoned at four o'clock in the morning.
Soon the anchors of the German ship were drawn up. Leary shortened his
anchors. At last the German vessel with a rush started out of the
harbor. Leary's anchors were up in a jiffy. He didn't stop to take in
the hawser holding his ship to a pier by the stern. He fastened one end
of the rope to a buoy and threw it overboard. Leary was pointed straight
out to sea. The German Captain had to make a turn to get out. By the
time the _Adler_ reached the entrance to the harbor the _Adams_ was
close behind. The Germans saw the real situation at once. There was
great excitement on board both vessels, but the Germans would not
compromise themselves by turning back.

As the two ships, which were about equally matched in size and in
fighting strength, reached the open sea, Leary was in the rear only a
few hundred yards. The German vessel took a wide turn, and headed for
the point of attack. Day was breaking then. Leary made a short turn
close to the coral reefs, and cut in between the German and the shore.
His boat lapped the stern of the German vessel, only about three hundred
yards away. Suddenly the orders to clear for action were heard
throughout the American ship. All preparations had been made for this,
and with despatch the decks were cleared, ammunition was brought up, and
the guns were loaded. The Germans saw what was going on, and they
cleared for action also. Then the two ships went down the coast, dipping
to the swells, and stripped for war. It was a trying occasion, and both
commanders knew what tremendous results were dependent upon the outcome
of their actions that day. Steadily the ships held their course. When
they approached the point where the forts were situated, the German ship
slowed up and dropped anchor. Leary did the same. It was broad daylight
now. Soon a boat was lowered from the German ship, and some German
officials were sent ashore under a guard. Then it was that Leary ordered
one of his boats cleared away to carry this note of warning to the
Captain of the German ship, which Leary had written on the way down and
after both ships had cleared for action:

[Illustration: "I AM HERE FOR THE PURPOSE OF PROTECTING THE SAME."]

     "I have the honor to inform you that having received information
     that American property in the Latogo vicinity of Laulii, Lotoanuu,
     and Solo Solo is liable to be invaded this day, _I am here for the
     purpose of protecting the same_, and I hope that the friendly
     relations existing between our respective governments may prevent
     the occasion from causing any complaint."

The American officer was rowed over to the German ship and gave the note
to the officer of the deck, and returned without waiting for any reply.
Then the crews of the two vessels stood by their guns for hours waiting
for developments. Leary's note was polite and firm; but when such a note
is sent from the commander of one war-ship to the commander of another
war-ship, and when the decks of both ships are cleared for action, it
can mean but one thing--war. Leary meant that no shot should go over his
deck into the settlement on shore. For several hours the two ships lay
at anchor, with the crews waiting to spring at each other. Soon after
noon the Germans got under way again, and made a long detour down the
coast, with the Americans close behind, and still ready for battle. Then
slowly the German vessel turned about and steamed for Apia Harbor. Leary
followed with his ship. Both came to anchor in the places from which
they had started early in the day, and that incident, laden with
frightful possibilities for two great nations, was ended.

Leary was ordered home soon afterward, and it is known that he received
the personal thanks from our officials in the highest seats of
government. The strangest part of the affair, however, is the fact that
no official notice was ever taken of his splendid determination to
uphold the honor of the American flag. Leary's friends say that he has
not so much as a piece of paper to show from the Navy Department that he
ever stood up for the honor of the flag in so signal a manner in Samoa.
Congress passes votes of thanks to men who are conspicuous in saving
life on the high seas. Congress never passed a vote of thanks to Leary.
I need not go into the reasons for this apparent neglect. If republics
are ungrateful, it may be said that Leary never asked for any such
action, nor even desired it. He had performed his sworn duty, and that
was sufficient for him. He was probably the youngest officer in the navy
ever called upon to perform such a responsible task, and if there seemed
to be envy on the part of those older and of higher rank in the service,
"Dick" Leary went his way modestly, and asked for no public recognition
of his services.

His native State, however, Maryland, could not let such a display of
patriotism go unrewarded, and the Legislature voted him a handsome gold
watch. It was presented to him in the presence of a brilliant company at
the State Capitol. The national government kept silent officially,
however, and that silence has never been broken.

Leary probably cares least of all for this apparent oversight. It has
been given to few officers in the American navy to write,

"I AM HERE _for the purpose of protecting the same_." (American
property.)

That is Leary's reward. It is enough for him to know that he did his
duty, and that the people respect him for it. As Americans, we are proud
of certain sentiments uttered by those who have worn our country's
uniform in time of war. "Don't give up the ship!" still rings in the
ears of all patriotic citizens. "If any man hauls down the flag, shoot
him on the spot!" still inspires and thrills us. With these, and other
sentiments like them, I wish to write Leary's declaration,

"I AM HERE _for the purpose of protecting the same_."




WOOD-CARVING.

BY J. HARRY ADAMS.


A knowledge of drawing and modelling will be very helpful to the young
carver, as the outline of ornament can be readily drawn, while to carve
objects from wood the art of modelling form is most desirable and
essential to obtain a satisfactory result.

If the beginner possesses a knowledge of form acquired by drawing and
modelling, then the art of wood-carving can be readily and quickly
mastered; but even if these advantages should be lacking, it is possible
that considerable progress can be made by those who will follow the
instructions given on these pages.

The most important feature of carving is the ability to sharpen and
maintain the little tools, and when this is mastered, more than half the
difficulty has been overcome. Carving-tools can be purchased at most any
large hardware store, and as there are a great many shapes and styles of
edges to select from, a few suggestions will give a clear idea of
necessary ones to begin with.

At the start a numerous assortment of tools will not be necessary, as
the flat-work will meet with the best success at the hands of the
beginner. Six or eight chisels will constitute a good set, and those
shown in Fig. 3 will answer very well.

No. 1 is a plain flat chisel with a straight edge, commonly called a
firmer. No. 2 is a flat one also, with an angle or oblique edge, and
commonly called a skew firmer. Nos. 3 and 4 are flat and extra flat
gouges, while No. 5 is an ordinary gouge with a half-circular sweep. No.
6 is a grounder, or bent back ground tool, and is very useful for
reaching when a flat tool cannot. No. 7 is a "quick gouge," in the form
of a U, and No. 8 is a V gouge, a very handy tool for cutting the veins
in leaves and in "chip-carving."

A flannel or felt case should be made for the tools, so they may be
kept nicely. The case can be made to roll up, and provided with pockets
into which the tools are slipped.

The stones needed on which to sharpen the tools will be an ordinary flat
oil-stone, and two Turkey or Arkansas slips six or eight inches long,
having the shape of those shown in Fig. 2, A and B. C is the flat stone,
and every boy who carries a good pocket-knife should be provided with
one on which to sharpen the blades.

The other tools necessary to complete the kit will be several clamps
similar to the one shown in Fig. 2; also a glue-pot, and a fret-saw like
the one depicted in Fig. 2.

The boy who possesses a bracket or jig saw, however, will not need the
fret-saw, as more and better work can be done with it than with the hand
affair.

A carver's bench on which to work is of course the greatest necessity;
but if it is not possible to get one, a good wooden-top kitchen table
will answer very well.

The proper kind of a bench gives greater facility for working; it is
more convenient and solid, and as the height is better than that of an
ordinary table, the carver works under more pleasant conditions.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--A DESIGN FOR WOOD-CARVING.]

The boy who is handy with tools can make a good bench in a short time,
and the design of one is shown in Fig. 5 that can easily be made from
wood of the necessary kind that is free from knots and sappy places. The
top should measure four feet long, two feet wide, and should be one inch
and a half in thickness; it can be of yellow pine, ash, or oak, and the
wood must be well seasoned. The framework must be well made, and the
cross-pieces and braces securely mortised together, or firmly screwed to
the uprights or legs, which can be of yellow pine or ash two inches
square.

The top of the bench should be three feet and three inches high from the
floor; and to one side of the bench a carpenter's vise may be attached,
as shown in the figure.

The first essential to good clean cutting is that the tools shall be
absolutely sharp and in a workmanlike condition. It is often the case
that amateurs' tools are in such a state that no professional carver
could produce satisfactory results, so that in every instance the
condition of the tools governs the finished work.

The variety of carving-tools is so limited, that if the difficulties of
sharpening a firmer and gouge are mastered, the task is practically
ended.

If the tools should be unusually dull, they must first be ground on a
grindstone. It should be remembered that carvers' tools are sharpened on
both sides, and not only on one, like the carpenters' chisels. After
grinding, the tools must be sharpened on the oil-stone or slips before
they are ready for use. The firmers can be sharpened on the oil-stone
laid flat on the bench, but the gouges must be held in the hand in order
to sharpen the inside curve with a slip. The outer curve can be
sharpened on the flat oil-stone.

Great care must be taken to give the tools a finished and smooth edge,
and when they have reached the proper degree of sharpness it will be an
easy matter to cut across the grain of white pine, leaving a furrow that
is very smooth and almost polished.

In the use of the oil-stone and slips, neat's-foot oil or a good thin
machine oil should be employed. Water must not be used, as it would
spoil the stones and not produce the sharp edge on the tools.

The finest stones are the best for use, and although they take longer to
produce the keen edge, the sharpest tools are made with them, and they
will be found the most satisfactory in the end. Avoid grit and dust on
the stones, and before using them they should be wiped off with an oiled
rag.

For gouges of the various sweeps the slip shown in Fig. 2A will be
necessary, but for the V gouges the triangular one, Fig. 2B, is the
right one to use. The stone, Fig. 2C, can be used to sharpen the
firmers.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--CLAMP, SAW, AND CHISEL STONES.]

The beginner must not consider any pains too great to make himself a
thorough master of the tools, and to keep a perfect edge on all of them.
It is necessary, when using them, to exercise care to prevent any
unpleasant cut that would be the result of carelessness. Undivided
attention and a little common-sense are necessary at all times.

The tools being in proper condition, the next step is to acquire a
knowledge of the best methods of handling them so as to produce any
desired result. It will require some time and practice to become
thoroughly familiar with the manner in which tools are handled, and, if
it is possible, it would be well to watch some carver at work. The
chisels should always be held with one hand on the handle and two
fingers of the other hand near the edge of the tool. This is to give
sufficient pressure at the end to keep it down to the wood, while the
hand on the handle gives the necessary push to make the tool cut.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--CHISELS.]

Of the woods that are adapted to carve in there are a great many, but
perhaps yellow pine, walnut, or mahogany will be found most desirable,
as they are easily cut, and do not split as some of the softer and
harder woods.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--A SAMPLE Of WOOD-CARVING.

1. The Drawn Design. 2. The Preliminary Stage. 3. The Finished Carving.]

To begin with, it is best to work out a simple pattern that can be
followed easily and without a great deal of dexterity in handling the
tools. Get a piece of yellow pine one inch thick, eight inches wide, and
sixteen long.

On a piece of smooth paper draw one-half of a pattern similar to the one
shown in Fig. 4, and on a piece of tracing-paper copy the design. Over
the face of the wood lay a sheet of transfer-paper with the black
surface down, and on it the tracing-paper, and go over all the lines
with a lead-pencil, bearing down on the point so that the lines will be
transferred to the wood. Repeat it at the other end, so that as a result
the piece of wood will have the pattern.

To one corner of the bench clamp the piece of wood with three or four of
the clamps shown in Fig. 2. Do not place the clamp directly on the wood,
but place between the jaw and the pine a piece of heavy card-board or
another piece of thin wood, to prevent the clamp from bruising the
surface of the yellow pine. With a small wooden mallet and a firmer
chisel begin to cut down into the face of the wood on the lines until
they have all been cut. Then with the gouges and grounding tool cut away
the surface not a part of the pattern to a depth of an eighth of an inch
or more, until a result is obtained similar to that shown in the second
cut of Fig. 4.

The entire design and edge will now be in relief, but its surface will
be flat and entirely void of any "feeling." With the flat, extra flat,
and plain gouges begin to carve some life in the ornament. A little
practice will soon enable you to observe which parts should be high, the
others that should be low, and the surfaces that can be left neutral or
between high and low relief.

This part of carving is termed "life," or "feeling," and it is this
quality that lends the beauty to the finest wood-carvings. The work when
completed should have the appearance of the third cut in Fig. 4, and if
nicely done it should be a credit to any beginner. The effect of this
panel can be had also by applied carving, which is a very simple and
less tedious process.

The design is transferred to a thin piece of wood, and cut out with the
fret or jig saw. The pieces are then glued in position on a thick piece
of wood, and the feeling carved in a similar manner as described. The
former method is called carving in the solid, while the latter is known
as applied carving.

Such pieces of carving can be used as panels to small drawers, to
cabinets, and to form the sides and covers of useful little boxes, etc.
If these simple suggestions are carefully followed, the inventive boy
should be able to design some very pretty patterns that can be carved
nicely in any desirable wood that is not too hard.

When flat, or relief, carving has been mastered, it would be well to
attempt something in figure or bold work, such as animals, fruit, or
heads, on all sides of which some careful study and good work can be
done. It will be some time, however, before the amateur can successfully
accomplish good results, so that for some time the flat-work should be
practised, and as improvement is noticed the ornament can be undercut to
lend it a richness and boldness.

Chip-carving, or engraving, is a simple but effective manner of
ornamenting flat surfaces, and some very pretty results can be obtained
in a little while with the gouges and V tools, also the spade chisel and
veiner. There is no grounding out in chip-carving, as the pattern is
produced by chipping out the figure itself.

Fig. 1 is a simple pattern of a vine and leaves; the stem is engraved
with the V chisel, and with a small firmer the leaves are cut. Two
curved incisions will cut the leaf, and the angle through the centre
describes the main vein. The chipping can be shallow or deep, as a
matter of choice, but more effect can be had by cutting fairly deep.

To finish wood-work in most any color, it is possible to obtain stains
at a paint or hardware store, and over the stained surface, when dry,
several thin coats of hard oil or furniture varnish can be applied. The
back and edges of a carved panel should always be painted to protect it
from moisture and dampness, and in this manner warping and splitting are
avoided. Some pieces of carving only need oiling with raw linseed oil,
while others may be varnished. A favorite mode of darkening oak in
France and England before it is varnished is to expose it to the fumes
of ammonia, or to paint ammonia on with a brush until the desired
antique shade is obtained; this, however, is not so satisfactory as the
colors resulting from the use of prepared stains that can be purchased.

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--A PRACTICAL WORKBENCH.]




[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]


Although golf has been played for several years at Lawrenceville, it is
only within the past year that the game has established itself on an
equal footing of popularity with the other sports of the school. As soon
as the students' interest in the game became apparent, however, the
authorities, following their custom with regard to all departments of
the school, engaged an instructor to take charge of those who desired to
become proficient. They secured the services of Mr. James Swan, who was
superintendent at the St. Andrew's Club last year and at the Shinnecock
Club the year before. His first work on going to Lawrenceville was to
select a site for the course and to lay out links.

As there are over two hundred acres in the school property, he was able
to take up some thirty or forty acres directly north of the school
buildings for this purpose, and when the course has been completely
arranged, it will doubtless be one of the best short courses in the
country. At present there have been only six holes laid out, although
probably next year this number will be increased to nine. For the
requirements of the players now, however, these links give just about
the amount of ground that can be covered in the afternoon from the close
of school exercises until the recreation hour ends.

At Lawrenceville every student is required to devote a certain time each
day to out-door exercise, and each boy is allowed to choose the sport
that suits him best. About one hundred have decided to play golf in
preference to other required exercise, and already some of them have
developed good form, notably Griggs, Drake, Childs, Hutchings, and
Little. Doubtless one of the reasons for this favorable development is
that the players are required to study the rules carefully, and each one
follows the game under the supervision of the instructor, who allows no
loose form or slouch play.

THE LAWRENCEVILLE GOLF LINKS.

[Illustration: ONE STROKE FROM THE FIFTH HOLE.]

[Illustration: AT THE FIRST HOLE.]

The start of the course, as it is at present laid out, is made from the
first tee over comparatively level ground for 175 yards, starting near
the fence that divides the central school property from the land which
lies north of it. The barbed-wire fence which crosses this links forms
an undesirable obstacle, but it will be removed in the spring and
replaced by a short bunker.

The second tee begins the next link in a northerly direction, in a
parallel line with the country road, or the Old King's Highway. This
road is the one which was traversed for several decades by the
mail-stages from New York to Washington. The ground sinks some eight
feet at a distance of 140 yards in this second link of 304 yards, ending
with a running brook some nine feet wide. The ground from the brook to
the second hole rises slightly.

From the third tee to the third hole, a distance of 282 yards, the
ground falls and rises considerably, the brook in this link proving a
difficult hazard, as the south side of the bank is several feet higher
than the north side. The rise from the brook to the third hole is but a
light one. From the fourth tee to the fourth hole, 187 yards, the drive
is comparatively good, the brook proving an insignificant hazard to the
good driver, but a troublesome one to the beginner who, "topping" the
ball, finds that here, as perhaps at no other part in the course, a
resort must be made to "dropping" the ball. Indeed to the novice the
fourth hole is a trial to the temper.

[Illustration: THE LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL GOLF LINKS.]

To the right of the third hole stands a farm-house; the course leading
to the fourth hole might be across the miniature pond indicated in the
plot plan. The ground falls gradually to the brook from the fifth tee,
241 yards, and beyond the brook the ground rises abruptly some 15 feet.
The last link, 326 yards long, is the longest in the course, and is one
of the most trying. At present it leads over a low hay-stack, which will
be removed shortly, and before the hole is reached a bunker must be
encountered. The fields are traversed pretty completely in making the
course, 1-1/4 miles in length, and the sixth hole brings the player
almost home.

The course has been made several times by the instructor in 27 strokes,
and a few of the better players among the boys in 36 strokes, Griggs in
29. The majority of the boys, however, content themselves with some
number between 40 and 50. In the course of a few months some twenty or
thirty of the boys will be singled out and given more specific
instructions, so that the tournaments to be held in the spring may be
well played.

The announcement which came to us from New Haven some few days since,
that the Hillhouse High-School would not put a track-athletic team into
the field this year, brings up the question again of uniting the various
athletic associations of the State. The football association of the
Connecticut schools is a different organization from the track-athletic
association, although both are made up of about the same schools. The
football association is financially prosperous--in fact it came out some
$400 to the good this year after paying all expenses, and this money is
now doubtless drawing interest in the savings-bank.

The track-athletic association, however, is not so great a success from
a financial point of view, and is now in debt, or, if not, it has been
until very recently. This state of affairs is probably due to the fact
that the expenses of a track-athletic meeting are heavy, and there is
only one meeting a year, to which the small admission-fees charged are
not sufficient to defray all the expenses.

On the other hand, there is a great popular interest in football in
Connecticut, and the money contributed by spectators at the principal
championship games is very much in excess of the requirements of the
association. Perhaps, too, so far as track athletics are concerned,
there has been a little mismanagement. The spring games of 1895 were
very successfully managed, and proved a financial success, but the
association was in heavy debt previous to that date, and the profits of
1895 went to make good some of the deficiencies of previous occasions.

In 1896, however, the managers of the games were incompetent, and the
meeting proved a financial failure. The games were not properly
advertised in New Haven, where they were held, and on the day of the
meeting there were more spectators present from Hartford than there were
from the home city. Furthermore, the managers were extravagant in the
purchase of prize cups, and when they came to figure up their accounts
there was a deficit.

It is the belief among a number of the young men interested in track
athletics in Connecticut that if the track-athletic meetings cannot be
conducted at a profit, they ought certainly, by good management, to be
conducted without loss. It has been suggested that instead of having a
football association, a track-athletic association, a baseball
association, and perhaps other athletic organizations, it would be the
better plan to have a single association that would govern all
interscholastic sports in the State. The managers of this association
would be the managers of each sport as it came up with the season, and
the treasurer of the association would be responsible for all the moneys
received and disbursed.

Thus if there was a profit from football, that profit could go to the
assistance of any deficit there might be in track athletics. At the
larger colleges this plan of uniting all branches of athletics under one
financial management has been found to be the best plan, for in sport
there must always be one branch that is self-supporting while another is
not.

Furthermore this plan of uniting all school sports under one financial
management in Connecticut would solve the problem of what to do with the
surplus in the treasury at the end of the football season. It would seem
that, knowing there was a deficit in the track-athletic treasury, the
officials of the football association would have turned over from their
surplus the amount necessary to make good the shortage. It is to be
hoped that the desire of those who wish to unite all sports under one
head will be carried out, for it would be to the benefit of athletics in
Connecticut.

The Hartford High-School will have three representatives at the
Knickerbocker A.C. games next month. F. R. Sturtevant will enter the
high jump. He won the event last year with 5 ft. 7-1/2 in. He will also
enter the pole-vault. His record in this event is 10 ft. 5 in. J. F.
Morris will enter the 100, 220, and 440 yard dashes. He has run the 100
in 10-1/2 sec.; the 220 in 23-3/5 sec.; the 440 in 52-4/5 sec. C. A.
Roberts will enter the walk. He is an unknown quantity.

The Board of Education of Chicago seems to be taking a hand in
athletics, so far as the high-schools of that city are concerned. A rule
has been passed which makes it necessary for the Cook County athletes to
work hard at their lessons. No scholar at any of the high-schools who is
not a regular student taking a regular course may represent his school
in any athletic event. The principal of the school is required to sign a
voucher certifying to these facts, and it is also required of him to see
that no pupil lets his marks fall below a certain average, the penalty
for this being that he must give up athletics until his school work is
brought up to the required standard.

There is a lull in athletics among the Chicago schools just at
present--the quiet before the storm, most likely. The in-door baseball
games do not seem to be getting along very prosperously, and there is
considerable opposition to them among some of the students, on the
ground that an admission-fee is charged. Lake View High-School still
leads for the championship, having won every game played, with Austin
second.

There has been a protest game, of course. It was in the match between
North Division and Evanston. In the last half of the ninth inning North
Division was at the bat, with the score 7-9 in favor of Evanston. The
crowd that was looking on got in pretty close to the Evanston fielders,
who claimed that this prevented them from doing their proper and
necessary work. The Evanston captain protested against the crowding, but
as this had no effect with the on-lookers he left the floor with his
team.

The matter was of course brought up at the next League meeting, but the
executive committee decided that Evanston was in the wrong, gave the
game to North Division, and legislated that in the future any nine that
left the floor should forfeit the game to the opponents.

The Long Island Interscholastic Athletic League has decided to hold the
first annual skating championships of the organization at the Clermont
Avenue Ice-Skating Rink, on Clermont Avenue near Myrtle, Brooklyn. J. A.
Forney, of Adelphi Academy, has been appointed to ascertain upon what
conditions the Rink may be had for the races, which will probably be
held the last week of this month.

The in-door games of the Long Island Interscholastic League will be held
on February 20 at the Cycle Club, Brooklyn. There will be ten events
contested, and among them one of those precious events for "juniors."

The basket ball championship series has already begun, and the schedule
will be played out as follows:

     Feb. 5. Poly. Prep. _vs._ Pratt Institute, and Adelphi Academy
     _vs._ Brooklyn High-School.

     Feb. 12. Brooklyn High-School _vs._ Poly. Prep., and Pratt
     Institute _vs._ Brooklyn Latin School.

     Feb. 19. Poly. Prep. _vs._ Brooklyn Latin School, and Adelphi
     Academy _vs._ Pratt Institute.

     Feb. 26. Adelphi Academy _vs._ Brooklyn Latin School, and Brooklyn
     High-School _vs._ Pratt Institute.

     March 2. Brooklyn High-School _vs._ Brooklyn Latin School, and
     Adelphi Academy _vs._ Poly. Prep.

Arrangements for the track meeting between Lawrenceville and the Hill
School are about to be completed, and it is sincerely to be hoped that
whatever arrangements are made will be carried out. Last year the
meeting that was proposed, and the league of big schools in New Jersey
and Pennsylvania, never came to anything; but as sport advances all
these plans will doubtless be carried through, and a strong organization
ought to grow out of them.

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

  THE GRADUATE.

       *       *       *       *       *

A CURIOSITY OF LITERATURE.

John Heywood, the playwright and epigrammatist, was patronized by Henry
VIII. and Elizabeth. "What the 'Faery Queen,'" says Warton, "could not
procure for Spenser from the penurious Elizabeth and her precise
ministers, Heywood gained by puns and conceits." The object of one of
his books, as disclosed by the title-page, is singular: "A Dialogue,
containing in effect the Number of all the Proverbs in the English
Tongue, compact in a Matter concerning Two Marriages."

When the Marquis of Winchester, Lord High Treasurer, was presented with
a copy of this book by the author, he inquired what it contained, and
being answered, "All the proverbs in English," replied, "What! all? No,
no. 'Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton'"--a form of speech once much in
vogue. "By my faith," said Heywood, "that is not in."

It happened that the marquis casually uttered the only proverb not in
the book.

Camden mentions an interview of Heywood with Queen Mary, at which her
Majesty inquired what wind blew him to court. He answered, "Two,
specially--the one to see your Majesty."

"We thank you for that," said the Queen; "but I pray you, what is the
other?"

"That your Grace," said he, "might see me."

The curious work on proverbs is in rhyme, and contains many sayings that
are now forgotten, as well as allusions to superstitions still
remaining.

       *       *       *       *       *

ENGLISH AND ENGLISH.

Most American boys and girls feel confident that they are tolerably
familiar with the English language, and they are right in so feeling;
but sometimes one cannot but wonder, in reading over the English
newspapers, whether some expressions which are common enough to the
English mind would prove puzzling to the American reader or not. For
instance, here is a specimen paragraph from the _Western Morning News_,
published in England:

"_An Extraordinary Express._--The Cornish corridor express from
Paddington, on the morning of the 31st ult., was one of the heaviest
fast trains ever sent out of a London terminus. It started with 15
eight-wheel bogie coaches on, reckoned as equal to 22-1/2 ordinary
vehicles. But as these corridor carriages weigh about 25 tons each, the
coach load must have been over 370 tons, or quite equal to a train of 30
six-wheeled coaches. This for an express run at over 53 miles an hour!
There were two engines on of the largest class. West of Swindon the
train was split into two parts."

How many of us know what a "corridor express" is? or who can guess the
meaning of the term "bogie coach"? and to how many of us, indeed, is the
word "coach" a natural expression for car? and, finally, when a train or
anything else is "split" into two parts, does not the expression convey
to our minds something divided from end to end longitudinally, and not
cut in two? After all, the English spoken in one place differs largely
from the English spoken elsewhere, and probably ours is as good as that
of any one else.




ADVERTISEMENTS.




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[Illustration: PISO'S CURE FOR CONSUMPTION]

CURES WHERE ALL ELSE FAILS.

Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good. Use

in time. Sold by druggists.




QUESTIONS FOR YOUNG MEN.


ON KEEPING YOUR OWN COUNSEL.

It is an old saying among schoolboys and college men that the fellow who
keeps his mouth shut is always the big man; that he who deliberately
says little quickly wins for himself the name for wisdom. Such
statements are quite as true in the outer world to a certain degree as
they are in college and school. The pith of the matter is that if in any
way you arrive at a position of any importance, the less you talk to
every one the more credit you receive for care, for thoughtfulness, for
sound well-considered opinions. Here is nothing which urges a boy to
have no opinions or to never express them; and in fact this "wise
silence" at school and college as often, perhaps, covers up an empty
mind as it does the wisdom of Solomon. There is, however, a good rule to
follow, which may be given briefly, to the effect that it is well to say
little until you have thoroughly made up your mind, and then not to
hesitate in your statements. The temptation of the average man is to
express some opinion at once, but if that is changed later, the full
force of the final opinion is lost.

Let others do the wrangling. Your opinion will have all the more
influence if you come out strong with it at the close of the discussion,
when not only are the others considerably in doubt as to what they do
want, but you have also had the advantage of hearing many sides of the
case.

That is to say, that in your daily behavior towards the others in school
it is well to keep your "talk" in reserve. It is a habit easily
acquired, and one that in the end works both ways. It adds both to the
value of your advice, because the advice is better considered, and it
gives the advice an added value so far as others are concerned, because
when you only say a little, that little has the more consideration.

In the course of athletic games there are two ways of treating friends
and opponents. One way is as easy as another, for both are merely
habits. Many a good chap at baseball or football is constantly grumbling
whenever the umpire or referee gives a decision. He objects to the
decision on principle; he goes back to his place in the field
criticising the partisanship of the official, and makes himself
uncomfortable as well as disagreeable to the umpires and the other
teams. If this young man should be asked some day--off the field, of
course--whether it were sportsmanlike to criticise in the midst of a
game an umpire properly chosen, he would, no doubt, maintain in strong
terms that such criticism was the most unsportsmanlike thing possible,
and then he would promptly deny that he ever made such criticism. Yet
there are many such, and it is unfortunately one of the most common
sights on a school athletic field to-day to find the two teams wrangling
with the umpire over a decision he has made, and this, too, after he has
been asked ten minutes before to decide all such questions for them. It
is only another form of the same lack of habit in courteous behavior,
and it causes most of the hard feeling between schools and colleges
to-day.

So one might go on by the hour speaking of the different questions in
school and college life which are examples of lack of behavior of the
most ordinary kind, but the root of the matter is that each boy should
say to himself that he will be constantly reserved, that he will wait
for the proper moment to speak and act, and that he will then act
vigorously if he is convinced the time has come.

       *       *       *       *       *

A BLOCKADE VENTURE.

During the blockade of Buenos Ayres a clipper bark laden with flour was
fitted out at Boston with the express purpose of running in. The late
Augustus Hemenway was her supercargo. After a tedious voyage she arrived
off Buenos Ayres, and found the blockade too close to run in, and was
compelled to cruise off and on, waiting for a change in her favor. While
thus lazily reconnoitring, she spoke a vessel from Valparaiso, which
reported a famine there. Mr. Hemenway at once decided to try Valparaiso.
The Captain hesitated; he said his vessel was not adapted to double Cape
Horn in the dead of winter; but young Hemenway assumed the entire
responsibility, and the Captain yielded. She had a favorable slant round
the Horn, and reached Valparaiso in safety, where her cargo was sold at
high prices. The Chilians were so grateful for the timely relief that
they loaded the bark as deep as she could safely swim with copper ore,
and all concerned in the venture made a fortune. Later, Mr. Hemenway
opened a trade with Valparaiso in copper, wool, nitrate, etc., by which
he became one of the richest men in Boston.

       *       *       *       *       *

DAYBREAK.

  When the sunlight peeps in through the curtains at dawn,
  His Highness awakes with a smile and a yawn,
  And his little fat hands fly up in the air,
  Out of whole-souled delight that a new day is there.

  He laughs to himself and he churns his pink heels,
  He gurgles and chirps at the pleasure he feels,
  And he looks with dismay at the big folk near by
  Who sleep while the daylight is kissing the sky.

  The sight of a sunbeam is thrilling and new;
  The big folk are missing it--that will not do!
  Awake, oh, good people, awake to the sight!
  Come out of your pillows, 'tis no longer night!

  See what a wonderful broad streak of gold
  Has come through the window! Arise and behold
  A slice of the dawn dancing over the floor!
  Was ever so glorious a vision before?

  But the elders, to whom the awakening of day
  Is old as their memories, turn blindly away,
  And his Highness is left, with the birds of the trees,
  To carol his joy at the new life he sees.

  ALBERT LEE.

       *       *       *       *       *

CAPTAIN HEARD'S EXPLOIT WITH A PRIVATEER.

The speed of the Baltimore clippers in days gone by made history redound
with their exploits. Every boy and girl has read at some time or place
of the piratical long, low, rakish-looking schooners that cruised the
ocean ostensibly as privateers, but chiefly as pirates, in those days,
and have marvelled more or less at their astounding adventures. A good
story is told of the late Captain Augustine Heard, that while in command
of a fine ship richly laden, bound from China to New York, he was
overhauled by one of this kind, which came up under his lee, fired a
shot into his ship, and demanded in "good English" that she should be
hove to. Captain Heard watched a favorable opportunity, squared his
yards, ran the privateer down, passed over her between the masts, and
when well to leeward brought his ship to the wind and resumed his
course. She had lost some of her head-gear, but sustained no damage in
her hull. Captain Heard left the "long, low, black privateer," or
pirate, to her fate, and had no doubt that all her crew perished.

It was a dangerous thing to do, but Heard relied upon the good timber in
his ship's bows to withstand the shock, although his heart grew sad at
the loss of life. Still, as he put it, "My honor and life were at stake,
so he had to go under."




[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.


Another No. 89 Plate No. has been found, and is now offered at $100.
There may be a lot of this No. at some small post-office, as the larger
offices do not seem to have received any of this particular No.

During the past month the stamp business has begun to revive, and there
are indications that better prices will be obtained in the auction-room
than in the past three months. The main difficulty seems to lie in the
fact that there are seemingly as many dealers as collectors. Years ago
the New York city stamp business was practically in the hands of two or
three men, while to-day Nassau Street and Twenty-third Street are
overflowing with dealers. Some of these dealers have entered into an
engagement with each other not to buy at auctions. If they keep to their
word so much the better for the collectors.

Guatemala has just issued a new set of fourteen adhesive stamps, five
postal cards, two envelopes, and one wrapper. The stamps are all printed
in black on colored papers. The size is about that of our Columbian
issue, and the entire set is made to commemorate and advertise the
Central American Exposition to be held this year.

    1 centavo          Black on lilac.
    2 centavos         Black on olive.
    6 centavos         Black on ochre.
   10 centavos         Black on indigo.
   12 centavos         Black on rose.
   20 centavos         Black on vermilion.
   50 centavos         Black on brown.
   75 centavos         Black on blue.
  100 centavos         Black on blue-green.
  150 centavos         Black on light rose
  200 centavos         Black on mauve.
  500 centavos         Black on yellow-green.

The probabilities are that the entire issue will be condemned by the
S.S.S.S.

The American Bank-Note Company of New York has just secured the contract
for printing the Canadian stamps. It is said that the cost of printing
will be about $600,000 for the five and a half years, and that the
saving to the Canadian government compared with late contracts will be
$125,000.

     B. B. PERKINS.--I would advise your buying a packet of 1000 stamps
     for $10, or 1500 stamps for $25. If you intend to collect certain
     countries only, such packets would not serve your purpose.

     BEATRICE FINK.--Tromsö stamps are locals from Norway. Wuhu is a
     Chinese local. Poste-Locale, 40 paras, is a Turkish local.

     BEVERLY S. KING, 31 New York Ave., Brooklyn, wishes to exchange
     stamps. Refer to your catalogue for the number of stamps issued by
     U.S., Great Britain, France, etc. A "complete" collection of stamps
     is a very vague quantity. I know one collection of Great Britain
     containing many thousands of stamps, no two alike, and yet the
     owner says he has just begun to collect Great Britain.

     D. MCPHERSON.--The unused Department stamps are higher than the
     used simply on account of the demand for unused stamps. The amount
     of money proposed by you will buy you very many good stamps, and
     ensure many hours of enjoyment, and that is the best investment.

     W. R. WHEELER.--Before postage-stamps were used the postmaster used
     to print with an iron or copper hand-stamp "Paid," "Paid 10," etc.
     Envelopes with such printing are very common, and while very
     interesting have no money value.

  PHILATUS.




[Illustration: IVORY SOAP]

  Reject all compounds which dispense
  With honest work and common sense;
  With Ivory Soap the wash is good
  And takes no longer than it should.

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




_READY FEBRUARY 11_

By Ellen Douglas Deland

=IN THE OLD HERRICK HOUSE=, and Other Stories. Illustrated. Post 8vo,
Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50.

     Besides the title story, this volume contains "At the Camerons'"
     and "The Little Red Book." Like all of Miss Deland's stories, these
     are wholesome and attractive, while there is an abundance of
     incident.

       *       *       *       *       *

By Charles Carleton Coffin

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

     All the best characteristics of the author are found in his last
     work, "Abraham Lincoln"; his brilliant power of revivifying the
     past, his skill in interweaving anecdote with narrative, his
     ability to present characters without dull description, are placed
     at their best use in sketching the life and times of the nation's
     hero.--_Boston Journal._

=OLD TIMES IN THE COLONIES.= Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,
$3.00.

=THE BOYS OF '76.= A History of the Battles of the Revolution. Profusely
Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

=BUILDING THE NATION.= Events in the History of the United States from the
Revolution to the Civil War. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,
$3.00.

=THE DRUM-BEAT OF THE NATION.= The First Period of the War of the
Rebellion, from its Outbreak to the Close of 1862. Profusely
Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

=MARCHING TO VICTORY.= The Second Period of the War of the Rebellion,
including the Year 1863. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,
$3.00.

=REDEEMING THE REPUBLIC.= The Third Period of the War of the Rebellion, to
September, 1864. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

=FREEDOM TRIUMPHANT.= The Fourth Period of the War of the Rebellion, from
September, 1864, to its Close. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,
$3.00.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York




A Great Soldier's Amusing Experience.

Some letters of Count Von Moltke, long at the head of the German army,
and the man who took the German thousands and made of them the greatest
engine of war the world ever saw, are now being published for the first
time. In one of them he tells of a visit he made to London as a young
soldier, when, during a review in fashionable Hyde Park, he tried to
appear to his best advantage. The Count thus describes his experience:

"The Lord in His wrath made the Duke of Wellington Master of the Horse;
he understood nothing about horses, so he provided me with an animal
that had won at the last races. I never rode a more uncomfortable one;
likely enough that he had never been ridden before except by a jockey;
or my light overcoat so tickled his back that he bucked the whole time,
and bored as well..... To make it perfect, one of my trouser straps
burst. I had to manoeuvre with the utmost circumspection, and am
thankful to have got out of it so passably."

       *       *       *       *       *

A Far-West Fishing Village.

     Skamokana is a little town on the banks of the Columbia River,
     about twenty-eight miles from its mouth. The place is divided into
     three valleys, east, west, and middle. The principal industries are
     fishing, logging, and farming. The fishing season begins about the
     10th of April and ends about the 10th of August. The fish are
     caught in gill-nets, seines, and fish-traps. There are streams in
     the valleys where mountain-trout are caught.

     It is very pleasant here in the summer, but it rains nearly all
     winter. There are a great many salmon-canneries on the river. In
     the summer we find a great many mosses and ferns. There is some
     pretty scenery in the town. There are two bluffs seventy feet high.
     At the bottom of the bluffs runs a creek. The bluffs are covered
     with mosses and ferns. Part of the town is built on an island. The
     island and the mainland are connected. Part of this island is
     covered with sawdust from the mill.

  ESTHER SILVERMAN.
  SKAMOKANA, WASH.

       *       *       *       *       *

Great Caution, and the Lack of It.

Almost everybody has heard of the woman who, when her bed took fire,
refrained from throwing upon it the milk in a pitcher which stood near
by, because, as she explained, the milk would grease the bedroom floor.
So she lost her house and its contents, but she didn't grease the floor.

A farmer living in West Virginia had a hog afflicted with fleas. Some
one told him that kerosene oil would drive them away. It was night when
he returned home, but he resolved to put the prescription to the test at
once. Taking a torch out to the pen, he stuck it in the ground while he
poured the oil over the pig. The animal did not relish the treatment. He
ran squealing away, and of course ran near the torch. The oil took fire
and the pig ran to the barn. That ignited, and the pig, crazed with
pain, rushed toward the house, pushed the wood-shed door open, and
brought up in the kitchen. Pig, barn, and house were ashes before
daylight.

       *       *       *       *       *

A Peep at a Queer City.

     New Orleans is, I think, entirely different from any other city in
     the United States. You see things here that you see nowhere else,
     and you hear things on the street that you hear nowhere else.
     French is heard oftener than English, and Spanish and Italian are
     spoken a great deal, as a large percentage of the population is
     made up of these nationalities. The old French people, and a
     mixture of French and Spanish, represent the aristocracy of New
     Orleans, and are known as "Creoles." But these have degenerated to
     some extent, and the younger generation of Creoles, especially the
     men, are said to be lazy and worthless.

     Canal Street, the principal retail shopping street of the city,
     forms the dividing line between the French and English portions,
     and I may venture to say, on good authority, that some of the old
     French Indies have never crossed Canal Street to penetrate into the
     English part of the city.

     One of the first things a visitor goes to see is the old French
     Market on the river front. This is interesting to a stranger, but
     years ago it was even more so. The thing that strikes you most is
     the dirt, which is in great abundance; but you will find that most
     anywhere in New Orleans, although they are trying to improve it.
     Everybody that goes to the French Market gets a cup of coffee and a
     doughnut, commonly known as a "sinker," on account of its great
     solidity. Frenchmen, Italians or "dagos," old black mammies with
     their heads done up in bright bandannas, Indian women with herbs
     and bright baskets for sale--these and many others you see in the
     old market. A short distance from it are the historic Jackson
     Square and St. Louis Cathedral, one of the oldest churches in the
     United States. Jackson Square has beautiful flowers in it the year
     round, and a fine equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson graces the
     centre. I have never been in the cathedral except during service,
     but I know there are some beautiful pictures there which time has
     not spoiled, but rather increased the interest one always feels for
     such things.

     The winters here are what makes New Orleans so attractive to many
     people, and they certainly are delightful. It is a customary thing
     to see roses in great abundance, beautiful green lawns, and a great
     many flowers in bloom the entire year; but they don't do so well in
     summer--it is too hot.

     A drive along the principal residence street, St. Charles Avenue,
     is very delightful on a bright winter morning, for there are so
     many handsome houses, and they all have gardens beautifully kept.
     That is a good thing about New Orleans. There is plenty of air;
     each house has some yard; they are not close together as in other
     cities. In my next morsel I will tell you about Mardi Gras. Shall I
     describe a sugar plantation for you?

  SOPHIE ELEANOR CLARK.

Yes, please do.

       *       *       *       *       *

Grave of a Faithful Itinerant.

     Perhaps ROUND TABLE readers would like to hear about the grave of
     William Watters, the first native American Methodist minister. This
     grave is in Fairfax County, Virginia, six miles from Washington, in
     an old graveyard. The monument is a simple veined marble shaft
     about seven feet high, with these inscriptions:

  In Memory of
  Rev. William Watters
  The First Native Itinerant
  Methodist Preacher in
  America
  Born Oct. 16, 1751
  Died Mar. 29, 1827

  He was a pioneer leading
  the way for the vast army of
  American Methodist Itinerants
  having the Everlasting
  Gospel to preach.

  Fervent in spirit, prudent
  in council, abundant in
  labors, skillful in winning
  souls, he was a workman that
  needed not to be ashamed.

  Also His Wife
  Sarah Adams.
  Erected by the Virginia
  Conference of
  The Methodist Episcopal
  Church.

     This was not the minister's home. He was on his way from North
     Carolina to Baltimore when he died. The monument was not erected
     until years after.

  DOROTHEA F. SHERMAN, R.T.L.
  ASH GROVE, VA.

       *       *       *       *       *

Omens Common in Virginia.

     Three white frosts in succession, a sure sign of rain.

     When the crescent is on her back it never rains.

     When there is a small circle around the moon, rain is not far off;
     a large circle, no rain.

     When the wild-ducks fly overhead it is a sure sign of cold weather.

     Show your money to the new moon, and it will surely increase.

     Spill salt, lend it out, or give away parsely plants, is very bad
     luck.

     Break a looking-glass and you will have seven years of bad luck.

     If you fall up the stairs you will not be married that year.

     Never move on Saturday: "A Saturday's flit is a short sit."

     A strange black cat coming to you will bring luck.

     When the smoke descends, it is sure to rain.

     Never hang a horseshoe this way, (upside down U), as your luck will
     run out. It should be put up the other way--U.

     The best one I know is an old Scotch saying:

     "Luck is with the Lord; belief, with the people."

  JOHN R. MORELAND, R.T.F.
  NORFOLK.

       *       *       *       *       *

Cracking Walnuts.

     Select a hard table or flat-iron, placing the nuts near by. If you
     look at the nut carefully, you will find a slightly raised ridge
     running around the nut. Place the nut on its side, holding it
     firmly. Strike upon the ridge with a heavy hammer with short even
     blows until cracked. Fresh nuts are the best for both cracking and
     eating.

  H. H. W.
  DETROIT.

       *       *       *       *       *

Questions and Answers.

Wilton, Ct., asked about Greek in Barnard College, and Registrar N. W.
Liggett, of Barnard, replies as follows:

At the present writing Greek is absolutely essential for entrance to the
undergraduate department of Barnard College, and, after entrance, to the
completion of the Freshman year. In and after October, 1897, Greek will
no longer be required for entrance, other subjects being permitted as a
substitute, and it will then no longer be compulsory during the course.

Arthur L. Flagg, 34 Park Ave., Woonsocket, R. I., is collecting minerals
and wants correspondents.

"Win" writes to us:

"Please advise me on seeking a trade. Mention a good one. Is there any
law against canvassing books in this way--if you buy a book for a price,
and you sell it again for a gain of fifty per cent."

No one can advise you about a trade until such one knows something about
your tastes and your education. What trade do you feel most interested
in? Consider your inclinations, and follow them, unless there is a
reason for not doing so. Plumbing is a good trade. So is bookbinding. So
is carpentry. So are many others. Farming is a good occupation. Printing
is not a bad trade. Many people think its difficulties great, but this
impression is due to the fact that many printers own newspapers, and can
fill them with accounts of their own troubles. Blacksmiths have
troubles, but they own no newspaper in which to publish them. There is
no statute law against buying a book and selling it for a higher price.

Fred F. Colyer asks how Mr. McKinley will officially know of his
election as President of the United States, and what the recent meetings
of electors were. To answer the last question first, they were the
castings of the ballot of the electors in accordance with the plurality
vote of the State. For example, in Pennsylvania, your own State, the
voters cast their ballots not for Mr. McKinley, but for Presidential
electors equal in number to the number of men in both Houses of Congress
from Pennsylvania. They meet at the State capital. As a majority of the
voters of the State voted for Mr. McKinley and Mr. Hobart, these
official electors cast their ballots for them. This is the vote of
Pennsylvania. The returns of these votes are sent to Washington, one
copy by mail, and the other by special messenger. Both go to the
President of the United States Senate, who, in the presence of both
House and Senate, opens and records the result. This result is the
official declaration, and by it Mr. McKinley and everybody else
officially knows who the next President and Vice-President of the United
States are to be.




[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.


POOR NEGATIVES AND SOME OF THE CAUSES.

One of the most common mistakes of the young amateur is in not carrying
the development of a plate quite far enough. This is shown when the
plate, after removing from the fixing-bath, though full of detail, is so
thin and weak that it is impossible to get a good print from it, the
toning resulting in turning the print to a slaty gray color or an ugly
brown. A plate which has been properly exposed but not sufficiently
developed may be redeveloped by a process called in photography
intensification. Directions for intensifying were given in No. 824,
August 13, 1895, but for the benefit of new members of the club we give
another formula.

INTENSIFYING SOLUTIONS.

No. 1.

  Chloride of ammonia     100 grs.
  Bichloride of mercury   100 grs.
  Water                    10 oz.

No. 2.

  Strong ammonia           2 drms.
  Water                   20 oz.

If the negative has been washed and dried, soak it for a few minutes
till the film is thoroughly wet, then place it film side up in a tray
and pour over it enough of solution No. 1 to cover it well. Allow it to
remain, rocking the tray now and then, till the image has turned white.
Wash thoroughly in several changes of water, place it face up in another
tray, and cover it with solution No. 2, leaving it till the image has
turned brown. Wash well, and dry. If the negative is still too weak,
either repeat the process or redevelop in a weak solution of
hydrochinon. Solution No. 1 may be used repeatedly, but solution No. 2
must be thrown away after once using.

A plate that has been developed too long will be found dark all over,
and it will take a long time to make a print from it. A print made from
a very dense negative fades out quickly in the toning solution, and must
be printed deeper than one made from a good negative, in order to get a
good picture. An over-developed negative may be reduced so as to make a
fine negative. There are many formulas for reducing solutions, but the
one considered the most reliable is called "Farmer's Reducer," the
formula for which is as follows:

  Water                         4 oz.
  Hypo                         30 grs.
  Potassium ferridcyanide       3 grs.

This solution must be made up just before using. Place the negative
while wet in the tray and cover it with the solution. Rock the tray all
the time, and look at the negative frequently to see if the reduction
has been carried far enough. A convenient way of handling the plate
during the process is to put it into a plate-lifter, immerse it in the
solution for a minute or two, lift out and rinse, and if the reduction
has not been carried far enough return it again to the solution. Care
must be taken that the picture is not reduced too much.

When the negative is dense in the high lights and without detail in the
shadows, it indicates that the plate was under-exposed. Where the
subject is one which cannot be obtained again, the negative may be
treated according to directions given recently in one of the papers on
retouching; but if the picture can be repeated, it is not worth while to
spend time on a poor negative.

A negative which shows clear glass in the corners is due to the lens
being too small for the plate, and does not fully cover it.

Fogged negatives are caused in several ways. If the edges of the plate
which come under the protector in the plate-holder are clear, and the
rest of the plate is fogged, the fog is caused by light entering the
camera, or by over-exposure of the plate. If there are streaks across
the plate, it is due to a small hole in the camera or to the rays of the
sun striking the lens during exposure. A plate which has been fogged by
the sun may be reduced by drying the plate and then taking a clean piece
of chamois, dipping it in alcohol, and rubbing the fogged spots gently
and evenly. Do this very carefully, touching only the places that are
fogged. Dense high lights may also be reduced by rubbing the places with
alcohol, this process bringing out the details which are lost in the
development.

     FREDERICK MONTGOMERY, 2421 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, D. C.; T.
     PARKER HALL, Taunton, Mass.; HUBERT BURNHAM, 232 Dempster St.,
     Evanston, Ill.; JOHN H. ASHUM, 1404 State St., Eau Claire, Wis.;
     ELIZUR SMITH, P. O. Box 436, Lee, Mass.; RALPH B. LEONARD, 98 Green
     St., Cumberland, Md.; FLOYD W. GILES, 49 Columbia Ave., Cumberland,
     Md.; T. K. WELLINGTON, 33 Walnut Place, Eighth St., Troy, N. Y.;
     STANLEY SYMMES, 630 Harrison St., San Francisco, Cal.; HALL M.
     CROSSMAN, Steelton, Pa.; ROXLEY F. WEBER, Salamanca, N. Y.; BRONSON
     M. WARREN, Bridgeport, Conn.; WILBUR T. HELM, 15 W. Biddle St.,
     Baltimore, Md.--wish to become members of the Camera Club.




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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




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[Illustration: THE GOSSIPS.

"THE TRAINED DOG IN THE NEXT CAGE SAYS HE'S GOING TO MOVE!"

"WHAT FOR?"

"HE SAYS THERE'S TOO MUCH RED APE ABOUT THIS MENAGERIE."]

       *       *       *       *       *

FROM ONE BOY TO ANOTHER.

  I'm sorry for you, King of Spain--
    You're just a boy like me--
  But even though you are a boy
    You are not half as free!

  You're fenced about by etiquette--
    By lots of little rules
  Like those we have to mind when we
    Are in our dancing-schools.

  Poor little King!--you have no fun
    Like that of other boys;
  You cannot jump and romp about,
    And try to make a noise.

  You cannot take a sled and slide
    Like lightning down a hill;
  To land head-first in snow would make
    Your little highness ill.

  You have a tutor come to you
    Instead, like we boys have,
  Of going to school and romping there,
    With none to domineer!

  Poor little King!--I weep for you,
    Deprived of all life's joy;
  And when I pray, I pray you'll dream
    That you're a Yankee boy.

  For I have found that that which comes
    By day, for wrong or right,
  Is easier made by fairy dreams
    Which come to me at night.

  So, little King, I beg you take
    From me, a Yankee free,
  The message of a boy who has
    A deal of sympathy.

  And while we do not care for kings,
    And look on thrones askance,
  We love you as a fellow-boy,
    And wish you had a chance!

  JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.

       *       *       *       *       *

A VALID REASON.

Jimmieboy had just moved into town, and he didn't like hotel life.

"What's the matter, Jimmieboy? Why don't you like it here?" asked a
friend.

"Oh, it's sort of flat," said Jimmieboy. "Home I can go all over the
house, but here pop's got lots of visitors that seem to own the rooms. I
wish he'd never hired this old hotel!"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE AMERICAN BOY.

"And where did you come from?" asked the foreigner of Bobbie.

"Mamma bought me at Tiffany's," replied Bobbie.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN UNPLEASANT PLACE.

"I'd like to be a policeman for five minutes!" said Jack, after he'd
been punished.

"What for?" asked his sister.

"I'd arrest papa for hitting me!" sobbed Jack.

"Where'd you put him?" asked the little girl.

"Nowhere," answered Jack. "That's the worst place I know of to be in."

       *       *       *       *       *

NOT ALWAYS BEST.

"Well, Tommie, how far have you got in arithmetic?"

"Fractions," said Tommie.

"And do you like them?"

"Well--I prefer bananas for dessert," said Tommie.

       *       *       *       *       *

FROM THE ARITHMETIC CLASS.

"Suppose I take seventeen boys," began the teacher, "and one pie. And I
divide that pie equally among them."

"Yes," said the class.

"What, Willie Robinson, will one of those pieces amount to?"

"One swaller," said Willie.

       *       *       *       *       *

A HINT.

"Well, Jacky," said Uncle George, "what are you going to be when you
grow up?"

"An uncle if I can afford it," said Jacky. "Uncles ought always to have
pockets full of nickels to give to their nephews--don't you think?"

       *       *       *       *       *

WILLIE'S QUESTIONS.

"Pop," said Willie.

"Well?" replied his father.

"I want to ask you a question."

"What is it?"

"Do you suppose birds sing for nothing, because they know nobody'd ever
pay their bill?"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE REASON FOR IT.

"How fast you are growing, Tommie."

"Yes. Too fast, I think. They water me too much. Why, I have to take a
bath every morning."

       *       *       *       *       *

NONCOMMITTAL.

"Are you fond of your aunts, Polly?" asked one of those dear relatives.

"Don't collect 'em," said Polly. "I go in for beetles and butterflies."





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, February 9, 1897, by Various



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