CHAPTER XXXIV.

COASTING FIVE MILES IN FIVE MINUTES.

In spite of their faintness and weakness from hunger and exhaustion,

Phil and Serge were so stimulated by the emergency that within half an

hour they had dug a cavity in the great drift sufficiently large to hold

the three dogs as well as themselves. The excavation was driven straight

for a few feet, and then turned to one side, where it was so enlarged

that they could either lie down or sit up. Into this diminutive chamber

they dragged their robes and sleeping-bags. The shivering dogs crept in

and curled up at their feet. The sledge was left outside, and the

opening was closed as well as might be by the slab of compacted snow

that had been cut from it. Poor little Nel-te, who was numbed and

whimpering with cold and hunger, was rubbed into a glow, comforted and

petted, until at length he fell asleep, nestled between the lads, and

then they found time to talk over their situation. For a while they had

no thought save for the dear friend and trusty comrade, who, alive or

dead, was still out in that terrible storm, and, as they believed, lost

to them forever.

"I don't suppose there is the faintest hope of ever seeing him again,"

said Phil. "If he went over the precipice he must have been killed, and

is buried deep in the snow by this time. Even if he did not, and is

still wandering somewhere in this vicinity, he must perish before

morning. Oh, Serge, can't we do anything for him? It makes me feel like

a cowardly traitor to be sitting here in comfort while the dear old chap

may be close at hand, and perishing for want of our help. And it is my

fault, too! The fault of my inexcusable carelessness. It seems, old man,

as if I should go crazy with thinking of it."

"But you mustn't think of it in that way, Phil," answered Serge,

soothingly. "As leader of the party it was your duty to go ahead and

pick out the road, while it was ours to keep you in sight. If either of

us is to blame for what has happened, I am the one. I should have looked

back oftener and made sure that he was still close behind me. Now there

is nothing we can do except wait for daylight and the end of the storm.

We have our parents, this child, and ourselves to think of first. Nor

could we accomplish anything even if we tried. The storm has doubled in

fury since we halted. A foot of snow must already have fallen, and to

venture a single rod outside of this place would serve to lose us as

certainly as though we went a mile. We mustn't give up all hope, though.

Mr. Coombs is very strong, and well used to exposure. Of course, if he

has gone over the precipice there is little chance that we shall ever

see him again; but if he escaped it, and has made a burrow for himself

like this one, he will pull through all right, and I feel sure we shall

find him in the morning."

"Why haven't we dug places like this before?" asked Phil. "It is

actually getting warm and comfortable in here. We might have had just

such a warm cave every night that we have been in the mountains and

spent so miserably."

"Of course we might," agreed Serge, "and we would have had, but for my

stupidity in not thinking of it sooner. While I never took refuge in one

before, I have often heard of them, and ought to have remembered. I

didn't, though, until this storm struck us, and I knew that without

shelter we must certainly perish."

"If you hadn't thought of a snow-burrow," said Phil, "it is certain I

never should. It is snug, though, and if only poor Jalap were with us,

and we had food and a light of some kind, I wouldn't ask for a better

shelter. I can understand now how an Eskimo stone lamp, with seal oil

for fuel, and a wick of moss, can give out all the heat that is needed

in one of their snow huts, and I only wish we had brought one with us."

After this the boys grew drowsy, their conversation slackened, and soon

all their troubles were forgotten in sleep. Outside through the long

hours the gale roared and shrieked with impotent rage at their escape

from its clutches. It hurled its snow legions against their place of

refuge until it was deep buried, and then in a frenzy tore away and

scattered the drifted accumulation, until it could once more beat

directly upon their slender wall of defence. But its wiles and its

furious attacks were alike in vain, and at length its fierce ravings

sank into whispers. The _poorga_ spent its force with the darkness, and

at daylight had swept on to inland fields, leaving only an added burden

of millions of tons of snow to mark its passage across the mountains.

When the boys awoke a soft white light was filtering through one side of

their spotless chamber, and they knew that day had come. They expected

to dig their way to the outer air through a great mass of snow, and were

agreeably surprised to find only a small drift against the doorway. As

they emerged from it they were for a few minutes blinded by the

marvellous brilliancy of their sunlit surroundings. Gradually becoming

accustomed to the intense light, they gazed eagerly about for some sign

of their missing comrade, but there was none. They followed back for a

mile over the way they had come the evening before, shouting and firing

their guns, but without avail.

No answering shout came back to their straining ears, and there was

nothing to indicate the tale of the lost man. Sadly and soberly the lads

retraced their steps, and prepared to resume their journey. To remain

longer in that place meant starvation and death. To save themselves they

must push on.

They shuddered at the precipice they had escaped, and over which they

feared their comrade had plunged. At its foot lay a valley, which,

though it trended westward, and so away from their course, Phil

determined to follow; for, far below their lofty perch, and still miles

away from where they stood, it held the dark mass he had seen the night

before, and knew to be timber. Besides, his sole desire at that moment

was to escape from those awful heights and reach the coast at some

point; he hardly cared whether it were inhabited or not.

So the sledge was dug from its bed of snow and reloaded: the dogs were

harnessed. Poor little Nel-te, crying with hunger, was slipped into his

fur travelling-bag, and a start was made to search for some point of

descent. At length they found a place where the slope reached to the

very top of the cliff, but so sharply that it was like the roof of a

house several miles in length.

"I hate the looks of it," said Phil, "but as there doesn't seem to be

any other way, I suppose we've got to try it. I should say that for at

least three miles it was as steep as the steepest part of a toboggan

slide, though, and I'm pretty certain we sha'n't care to try it more

than once."

"I guess we can do it all right," replied Serge, "but there's only one

way, and that is to sit on a snow-shoe and slide. We couldn't keep on

our feet a single second."

They lifted Nel-te, fur bag and all, from the sledge, tightened the

lashings of its load, which included the guns and extra snow-shoes, and

started it over the verge. It flashed down the declivity like a rocket,

and the last they saw of it it was rolling over and over.

"Looks cheerful, doesn't it?" said Phil, firmly. "Now I'll go; then do

you start the dogs down, and come yourself as quick as you please."

[Illustration: FOR A MOMENT THE SENSATION WAS SICKENING.]

Thus saying, the plucky lad seated himself on a snow-shoe, took Nel-te,

still in the fur bag, in his lap, and launched himself over the edge of

the cliff. For a moment the sensation, which was that of falling from a

great height, was sickening, and a thick mist seemed to obscure his

vision.

Then it cleared away, and was followed by a feeling of the wildest

exhilaration as he heard the whistling backward rush of air, and

realized the tremendous speed at which he was whizzing through space.

Ere it seemed possible that he could have gone half-way to the

timber-line trees began to fly past him, and he knew that the worst was

over. In another minute he was floundering in a drift of soft snow, into

which he had plunged up to his neck, and the perilous feat was

successfully accomplished.

Poor Serge arrived at the same point shortly afterwards, head first, and

dove out of sight in the drift; but fortunately Phil was in a position

to extricate him before he smothered. The dogs appeared a moment later,

with somewhat less velocity, but badly demoralized, and evidently

feeling that they had been sadly ill-treated by their driver. So the

sledge party had safely descended in five minutes a distance equal to

that which they had spent half a day and infinite toil in ascending on

the other side of the mountains.

When Nel-te was released from the fur bag and set on his feet he was as

calm and self-possessed as though nothing out of the usual had happened,

and immediately demanded something to eat.

After a long search they discovered the sledge, with only one rail

broken and its load intact.

"Now for a fire and breakfast!" cried Phil, heading towards the timber,

as soon as the original order of things was restored. "After that we

will make one more effort to find some trace of poor Jalap, though I

don't believe there is the slightest chance of success."

They entered the forest of wide-spreading but stunted evergreens, and

Phil, axe in hand, was vigorously attacking a dead spruce, when an

exclamation from his companion caused him to pause in his labor and look

around. "What can that be?" asked Serge, pointing to a thick hemlock

that stood but a few yards from them. The lower end of its drooping

branches were deep buried in snow, but such part as was still visible

was in a strange state of agitation.

"It must be a bear," replied Phil, dropping his axe and springing to the

sledge for his rifle. "His winter den is there, and we have disturbed

him. Get out your gun--quick! We can't afford to lose him. Meat's too

scarce in camp just now." Even as he spoke, and before the guns could be

taken from their moose-skin cases, the motion of the branches increased,

then came a violent upheaval of the snow that weighted them down, and

the boys caught a glimpse of some huge shaggy animal issuing from the

powdered whiteness.

"Hurry!" cried Phil. "No, look out! We're too late! What? Great Scott!

It can't be. Yes, it is! Hurrah! Glory, hallelujah! I knew he'd pull

through all right, and I believe I'm the very happiest fellow in all the

world at this minute."

"Mebbe you be, son," remarked Jalap Coombs, "and then again mebbe

there's others as is equally joyful. As my old friend Kite Roberson

useter say, 'A receiver's as good as a thief,' and I sartainly received

a heap of pleasure through hearing you holler jest now."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

[Illustration: HE DISTINGUISHED THE CALL OF ANIMALS.]

Late in the eighteenth century the village of Cooperstown lay almost in

the midst of the primeval forest, which extended for miles around. Here

the future novelist James Fenimore Cooper had been brought while yet an

infant by his father, who had built the family mansion, Otsego Hall, in

this secluded spot, far from the highways of travel, designing to make

it the centre of a settlement of some note, if possible. Here, as the

boy grew older, he learned wood-lore as the young Indians learned it,

face to face with the divinity of the forest. He knew the language of

the wild animals, and could distinguish their calls far across the

gloomy spaces of the wood; he could follow the deer and bear to their

retreats in dim secluded recesses; he could trace the path of the

retreating wolf by the broken cobwebs glistening in the early sunlight;

and the cry of the panther to its mate high overhead in the interlacing

boughs of the pines and hemlocks was of a speech as familiar as his own

tongue. When he was thirsty he made a hunter's cup of glossy leaves and

drank in true Indian fashion; when fatigued, he could lie down and rest

with that feeling of security that only comes to the forest-bred; when

thoughtful, he could learn from the lap of the waves against the shore,

the murmur of leaves, and the rustle of wings those lessons which Nature

teaches in her quiet moods.

These experiences and impressions sank into Cooper's heart, and were

relived again long after in the pages of his romances with such

vividness that they are plainly seen to be real memories.

Leaving his home while still a young boy, Cooper went to Albany to study

under a private tutor, and in 1803 entered Yale College, which, owing to

some trouble with the authorities, he left in the third year of his

course. It was now decided that he should enter the navy, and he left

New York in the autumn of 1806, being then in his fifteenth year, on a

vessel of the merchant marine. There was then no Naval Academy in

America, and a boy could only fit himself for entering the navy before

the mast; his ship, the _Sterling_, visiting Portugal and Spain,

carrying cargoes from port to port, and taking life in a leisurely

manner that belonged to the merchant sailing-vessels of that day. It was

a time of interest to all seamen, and Cooper's mind was keenly alive to

the new life around him. The English were expecting a French invasion,

and the channel was full of ships of war, while every port on the

southern coast was arming for defence. The Mediterranean was yet subject

to incursions of the Barbary pirates, who would descend under cover of

night upon any unprotected merchant-vessel, steal the cargo, scuttle the

ship, and carry away the crew to be sold as slaves to the Tripolitan and

Algerian husbandmen, whose orchards of dates were cultivated by many a

white person from across the Atlantic, held there in cruel slavery.

The waters of the Mediterranean were full of merchant-men of all

nations. Here, side by side, could be seen the Italian, French, and

English sailor, while the flags of Russia, Turkey, Egypt, and Greece

dotted the farther horizon.

[Illustration: HIS PLACE WAS ON THE DECK AMONG THE SAILORS.]

Cooper passed through all these stirring scenes, known to those around

him only as a boy before the mast, but in reality the clever student and

observer of men and events. His work was hard and dangerous; he was

never admitted to the cabin, though an equal, socially, to the officers

of the ship; in storm or wind or other danger his place was on the deck

among the rough sailors, who were his only companions during the voyage.

But this training developed the good material that was in him, and when,

in 1808, he received his commission as midshipman, he entered the

service better equipped for his duties perhaps than many a graduate of

Annapolis to-day.

Cooper remained in the navy three years and a half, seeing no active

service. He finally resigned his commission, and passed several

succeeding years of his life partly in Westchester County, New York, and

partly in Cooperstown, and having no ambition beyond living the quiet

life of a country gentleman.

It was not until 1820, when he was in his thirty-first year, that he

produced his first book or novel of English life, which showed no

talent, and which even his most ardent admirers in after-years could not

read through. It was not until the next year, 1821, that a novel

appeared from the hand of Cooper which foreshadowed the greatness of his

fame, and struck a new note in American literature. American society was

at that time alive with the stirring memories of the Revolution. Men and

women were still active who could recall the victories of Bunker Hill

and Trenton, and who had shared in the disasters of Monmouth and Long

Island. It is natural that in choosing a subject for fiction he should

turn to the recent struggle for his inspiration, and American literature

owes a large debt to him who thus threw into literary form the spirit of

those thrilling times.

His first important novel, _The Spy_, was founded upon a story which

Cooper had heard many years before, and which had made a profound

impression upon him. It was the story of a veritable spy, who had been

in the service of one of the Revolutionary leaders, and whose daring and

heroic adventures were related to Cooper by the man who had employed

him.

Cooper took this old spy for his hero, kept the scene in Westchester,

where the man had really performed his wonderful feats, and from these

facts wove the most thrilling and vital piece of fiction that had

appeared in America.

The novel appeared in December, 1821, and in a few months it was

apparent that a new star had risen in the literary skies. The book made

Cooper famous both in America and Europe. It was published in England by

the same publisher who had brought out Irving's _Sketch-Book_, and it

met with a success that spoke highly for its merit, since the story was

one telling of English defeat and American triumph. It was put into

French by the translator of the Waverley novels, and before long

versions appeared in every tongue in Europe. It was regarded not merely

as a tale of adventure in a new department of story-telling, but it was

generally conceded to be a fine piece of fiction in itself, and its

hero, Harvey Birch, won, and has kept for himself, a place hardly second

to any creation of literature.

Cooper had now found his sphere, and his best work henceforth was that

in which he delineated the features of American history during the

struggle for independence. His greatest contributions to literature are

found in the short series of novels called "The Leatherstocking Tales,"

and in his novels of the sea. "The Leatherstocking Tales" consist of

five stories, in which the same hero figures from first to last. The

series began with the publication of Cooper's second novel, _The

Pioneers_, but the story of the hero really begins in the fascinating

pages of _The Deerslayer_, where he is represented in the first stage of

his career.

The series grew much as Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_ grew, the same

man being introduced in different parts of his career, though each

separate book did not follow in exact order from the author's hand. The

success of _The Pioneers_ was remarkable. Thirty-five hundred copies

were sold before noon on the day of publication, and although, perhaps,

the least powerful of the "Tales," it was read with the same interest

that had been given to _The Spy_.

In the new novel Leatherstocking was first introduced as the philosopher

of nature, ignorant of books, but wise in the lore that is taught by the

voices of Nature. It is a story of the primitive life of the

frontiersmen of that day, and their occupations, interests, and

ambitions form the background to the picture of the hero,

Leatherstocking, who embodies the author's idea of chivalrous manhood,

and whose creation is one of the noblest achievements of fiction.

The scene of _The Pioneers_ was laid in the vicinity of Cooper's boyhood

home, and all the exquisite pictures wrought into the setting are vivid

and lifelike illustrations of the little frontier village, where man

received his sustenance first hand from Nature, and where all his

surroundings partook almost of the simplicity of the first ages of the

world. It was an appropriate theatre for the actions of that rustic

philosopher Leatherstocking, and there is a vein of tender reminiscence

through the book that must always give it a charm apart from the rest,

though in itself it is the least perfect story of the series.

The story of Leatherstocking begins in _The Deerslayer_, though it was

not written until twenty years after the publication of _The Pioneers_.

The scene was laid on Otsego Lake, and the character of Leatherstocking

was drawn as that of a young scout just entering upon manhood. The next

year, 1841, came _The Pathfinder_, having for its background the shores

of Lake Ontario, with which Cooper had become familiar during the winter

there in the service of the navy.

In these two books Cooper reached the highest point of his art.

Leatherstocking appears in _The Deerslayer_ as a young man full of the

promise of a noble manhood. And this ideal character is developed

through a succession of stirring adventures, the like of which are to be

found only in the pages of Scott. Side by side with Leatherstocking

stand those pictures of Indian character, which became so famous that

the Indian of that day has passed into history as represented by Cooper.

_The Pathfinder_ carries Leatherstocking through some of the most

exciting episodes of his adventurous career, and belongs to the same

part of his life as _The Last of the Mohicans_, published sixteen years

before, the scene of which is laid near Lake Champlain. _The Last of the

Mohicans_ takes rank with _The Deerslayer_ and _The Pathfinder_ in

representing Cooper at his best. In these three novels we see

Leatherstocking as a man in the prime of life battling with the stirring

events that were making the history of the country. All the story of the

war of the white man with nature, with circumstances, and with his red

brother in civilizing the frontier, is told in these books. It is the

romance of real history, and Leatherstocking had his prototype in many a

brave frontiersman whose deeds were unrecorded, and whose name was never

known beyond his own little circle of friends.

In _The Pioneers_ Leatherstocking has become an old man who has sought a

home in the forest to avoid the noise and strife of civilized life, and

he closes his career in _The Prairie_, a novel of the plains of the

great West, whither the old man has gone to spend his last days. It is

the story of a lonely life of the prairie-hunter of those days, whose

love for solitude has led him far from even the borders of the frontier,

and whose dignified death is a fitting ending to his noble and

courageous life. It is supposed that this end to Leatherstocking's

career was suggested to Cooper by the ever-famous Daniel Boone, and some

of the incidents of the story read like real life. One of Cooper's most

famous descriptions--that of the prairie on fire--occurs in this book--a

scene excelled only by the description of the panther-fight in _The

Pioneers_, or the combat between Deerslayer and his foe.

Cooper began his series of sea novels by the publication of _The Pilot_

in 1824, and stands as the creator of this department of fiction. He was

the first novelist to bring into fiction the ordinary, every-day life of

the sailor afloat, whether employed on a merchant vessel or fighting

hand to hand in a naval encounter. Scott's novel, _The Pirate_, had been

criticised by Cooper as the evident work of a man who had never been at

sea, and to prove how much better an effect could be produced by one

familiar with ocean life he began his story, _The Pilot_.

[Illustration: COOPER READING TO AN OLD SHIPMATE.]

The period of the story is the American Revolution, and the hero was

that famous adventurer John Paul Jones, introduced under another name.

It was such a new thing to put into fiction the technicalities of ship

life, to describe the details of an evolution in a naval battle, and to

throw in as background the vast and varying panorama of sea and sky,

that Cooper, familiar as he was with ocean life, felt some doubt of his

success. In order to test his powers, he read one day to an old shipmate

that famous account of the passage of the ship through the narrow

channel in one of the thrilling chapters of the yet unfinished work. The

effect was all that Cooper could desire. The old sailor got into such a

fury of excitement that he could not keep his seat, but paced up and

down the room while Cooper was reading; in his excitement he was for a

moment living over again a stormy scene from his own life; and the

novelist laid down the manuscript, well pleased with the result of his

experiment. _The Pilot_ met with an instant success both in America and

Europe. As it was his first, so it is perhaps his best sea story. In it

he put all the freshness of reminiscence, all the haunting memories of

ocean life that had followed him since his boyhood days. It was

biographical in the same sense as _The Pioneers_, a part of the romance

of childhood drafted into the reality of after-life.

_Red Rover_, the next sea story, came out in 1828. Other novelists had

begun to write tales of the sea, but they were mere imitations of _The

Pilot_. In the _Red Rover_ the genuine adventures of the sailor class

were again embodied in the thrilling narrative that Cooper alone knew

how to write, and from its first appearance it has always been one of

the most popular of the author's works. In these pages occurs that

dramatic description of the last sea fight of Red Rover, one of Cooper's

finest achievements.

Cooper's popularity abroad was equalled only by that of Scott. His works

as soon as published were translated into almost every tongue of Europe,

and were sold in Turkey, Prussia, Egypt, and Jerusalem in the language

of those countries. It was said by a traveller that the middle classes

of Europe had gathered all their knowledge of American history from

Cooper's works, and that they had never understood the character of

American independence until revealed by this novelist.

PRIZE-STORY COMPETITION.

FIRST-PRIZE STORY.

Betty's Ride: A Tale of the Revolution.--By Henry S. Canby.

The sun was just rising and showering his first rays on the gambrel-roof

and solid stone walls of a house surrounded by a magnificent grove of

walnuts, and overlooking one of the beautiful valleys so common in

southeastern Pennsylvania. Close by the house, and shaded by the same

great trees, stood a low building of the most severe type, whose

time-stained bricks and timbers green with moss told its age without the

aid of the half-obliterated inscription over the door, which read,

"Built A. D. 1720." One familiar with the country would have pronounced

it without hesitation a Quaker meeting-house, dating back almost to the

time of William Penn.

When Ezra Dale had become the leader of the little band of Quakers which

gathered here every First Day, he had built the house under the

walnut-trees, and had taken his wife Ann and his little daughter Betty

to live there. That was in 1770, seven years earlier, and before war had

wrought sorrow and desolation throughout the country.

The sun rose higher, and just as his beams touched the broad stone step

in front of the house the door opened, and Ann Dale, a sweet-faced woman

in the plain Quaker garb, came out, followed by Betty, a little

blue-eyed Quakeress of twelve years, with a gleam of spirit in her face

which ill became her plain dress.

"Betty," said her mother, as they walked out towards the great

horse-block by the road-side, "thee must keep house to-day. Friend

Robert has just sent thy father word that the redcoats have not crossed

the Brandywine since Third Day last, and thy father and I will ride to

Chester to-day, that there may be other than corn-cakes and baron for

the friends who come to us after monthly meeting. Mind thee keeps near

the house and finishes thy sampler."

"Yes, mother," said Betty; "but will thee not come home early? I shall

miss thee sadly."

Just then Ezra appeared, wearing his collarless Quaker coat, and leading

a horse saddled with a great pillion, into which Ann laboriously climbed

after her husband, and with a final warning and "farewell" to Betty,

clasped him tightly around the waist lest she should be jolted off as

they jogged down the rough and winding lane into the broad Chester

highway.

Friend Ann had many reasons for fearing to leave Betty alone for a whole

day, and she looked back anxiously at her waving "farewell" with her

little bonnet.

It was a troublous time.

The Revolution was at its height, and the British, who had a short time

before disembarked their army near Elkton, Maryland, were now encamped

near White Clay Creek, while Washington occupied the country bordering

on the Brandywine. His force, however, was small compared to the extent

of the country to be guarded, and bands of the British sometimes crossed

the Brandywine and foraged in the fertile counties of Delaware and

Chester. As Betty's father, although a Quaker and a non-combatant, was

known to be a patriot, he had to suffer the fortunes of war with his

neighbors.

Thus it was with many forebodings that Betty's mother watched the slight

figure under the spreading branches of a great chestnut, which seemed to

rustle its innumerable leaves as if to promise protection to the little

maid. However, the sun shone brightly, the swallows chirped as they

circled overhead, and nothing seemed farther off than battle and

bloodshed.

Betty skipped merrily into the house, and snatching up some broken

corn-cake left from the morning meal, ran lightly out to the paddock

where Daisy was kept, her own horse, which she had helped to raise from

a colt.

"Come thee here, Daisy," she said, as she seated herself on the top rail

of the mossy snake fence. "Come thee here, and thee shall have some of

thy mistress's corn-cake. Ah! I thought thee would like it. Now go and

eat all thee can of this good grass, for if the wicked redcoats come

again, thee will not have another chance, I can tell thee."

Daisy whinnied and trotted off, while Betty, feeding the few chickens

(sadly reduced in numbers by numerous raids), returned to the house,

and getting her sampler, sat down under a walnut-tree to sew on the

stint which her mother had given her.

All was quiet save the chattering of the squirrels overhead and the

drowsy hum of the bees, when from around the curve in the road she heard

a shot; then another nearer, and then a voice shouting commands, and the

thud of hoof-beats farther down the valley. She jumped up with a

startled cry: "The redcoats! The redcoats! Oh, what shall I do!"

Just then the foremost of a scattered band of soldiers, their buff and

blue uniforms and ill-assorted arms showing them to be Americans,

appeared in full flight around the curve in the road, and springing over

the fence, dashed across the pasture straight for the meeting-house.

Through the broad gateway they poured, and forcing open the door of the

meeting-house, rushed within and began to barricade the windows.

Their leader paused while his men passed in, and seeing Betty, came

quickly towards her.

"What do you here, child?" he said, hurriedly. "Go quickly, before the

British reach us, and tell your father that, Quaker or no Quaker, he

shall ride to Washington, on the Brandywine, and tell him that we, but

one hundred men, are besieged by three hundred British cavalry in

Chichester meeting-house, with but little powder left. Tell him to make

all haste to us."

Turning, he hastened into the meeting-house, now converted into a fort,

and as the doors closed behind him Betty saw a black muzzle protruding

from every window.

With trembling fingers the little maid picked up her sampler, and as the

thud of horses' hoofs grew louder and louder, she ran fearfully into the

house, locked and bolted the massive door, and then flying up the broad

stairs, she seated herself in a little window overlooking the

meeting-house yard. She had gone into the house none too soon. Up the

road, with their red coats gleaming and their harness jangling, was

sweeping a detachment of British cavalry, never stopping until they

reached the meeting-house--and then it was too late.

A sheet of flame shot out from the wall before them, and half a dozen

troopers fell lifeless to the ground, and half a dozen riderless horses

galloped wildly down the road. The leader shouted a sharp command, and

the whole troop retreated in confusion.

Betty drew back shuddering, and when she brought herself to look again

the troopers had dismounted, had surrounded the meeting-house, and were

pouring volley after volley at its doors and windows. Then for the first

time Betty thought of the officer's message, and remembered that the

safety of the Americans depended upon her alone, for her father was

away, no neighbor within reach, and without powder she knew they could

not resist long.

Could she save them? All her stern Quaker blood rose at the thought, and

stealing softly to the paddock behind the barn, she saddled Daisy and

led her through the bars into the wood road, which opened into the

highway just around the bend. Could she but pass the pickets without

discovery there would be little danger of pursuit; then there would be

only the long ride of eight miles ahead of her.

Just before the narrow wood road joined the broader highway Betty

mounted Daisy by means of a convenient stump, and starting off at a

gallop, had just turned the corner when a voice shouted "Halt!" and a

shot whistled past her head. Betty screamed with terror, and bending

over, brought down her riding-whip with all her strength upon Daisy,

then, turning for a moment, saw three troopers hurriedly mounting.

Her heart sank within her, but, beginning to feel the excitement of the

chase, she leaned over and patting Daisy on the neck, encouraged her to

do her best. Onward they sped. Betty, her curly hair streaming in the

wind, the color now mounting to, now retreating from her cheeks, led by

five hundred yards.

But Daisy had not been used for weeks, and already felt the unusual

strain. Now they thundered over Naaman's Creek, now over Concord, with

the nearest pursuer only four hundred yards behind; and now they raced

beside the clear waters of Beaver Brook, and as Betty dashed through its

shallow ford, the thud of horse's hoofs seemed just over her shoulder.

Betty, at first sure of success, now knew that unless in some way she

could throw her pursuers off her track she was surely lost. Just then

she saw ahead of her a fork in the road, the lower branch leading to the

Brandywine, the upper to the Birmingham Meeting-house. Could she but get

the troopers on the upper road while she took the lower, she would be

safe; and, as if in answer to her wish, there flashed across her mind

the remembrance of the old cross-road which, long disused, and with its

entrance hidden by drooping boughs, led from a point in the upper road

just out of sight of the fork down across the lower, and through the

valley of the Brandywine. Could she gain this road unseen she still

might reach Washington.

Urging Daisy forward, she broke just in time through the dense growth

which hid the entrance, and sat trembling, hidden behind a dense growth

of tangled vines, while she heard the troopers thunder by. Then, riding

through the rustling woods, she came at last into the open, and saw

spread out beneath her the beautiful valley of the Brandywine, dotted

with the white tents of the Continental army.

Starting off at a gallop, she dashed around a bend in the road into the

midst of a group of officers riding slowly up from the valley.

"Stop, little maiden, before you run us down," said one, who seemed to

be in command. "Where are you going in such hot haste?"

"Oh, sir," said Betty, reining in Daisy, "can thee tell me where I can

find General Washington?"

"Yes, little Quakeress," said the officer who had first spoken to her;

"I am he. What do you wish?"

Betty, too exhausted to be surprised, poured forth her story in a few

broken sentences, and (hearing as if in a dream the hasty commands for

the rescue of the soldiers in Chichester Meeting-house) fell forward in

her saddle, and, for the first time in her life, fainted, worn out by

her noble ride.

A few days later, when recovering from the shock of her long and

eventful ride, Betty, awaking from a deep sleep, found her mother

kneeling beside her little bed, while her father talked with General

Washington himself beside the fireplace; and it was the proudest and

happiest moment of her life when Washington, coming forward and taking

her by the hand, said, "You are the bravest little maid in America, and

an honor to your country."

Still the peaceful meeting-house and the gambrel-roofed home stand

unchanged, save that their time-beaten timbers and crumbling bricks have

taken on a more sombre tinge, and under the broad walnut-tree another

little Betty sits and sews.

If you ask it, she will take down the great key from its nail, and

swinging back the new doors of the meeting-house, will show you the

old worm-eaten ones inside, which, pierced through and through

with bullet-holes, once served as a rampart against the enemy.

And she will tell you, in the quaint Friend's language, how her

great-great-grandmother carried, over a hundred years ago, the news of

the danger of her countrymen to Washington, on the Brandywine, and at

the risk of her own life saved theirs.

KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS.

IV.--THE FINAL TRIAL.

"Ten Knights, as before, were put by the stone to guard it until the new

trial," continued the Story-teller. "The Archbishop was not going,

through lack of care, to have it said that anything had been done to the

stone meanwhile to make it harder for the contestants to pull forth the

sword, or easier for Arthur to perform that feat."

"I'll bet those Knights practised on it, though," said Jack. "I would

have."

"It wouldn't have done any good, I imagine," said his father. "There was

something mysterious about it all, and whatever that was it worked in

favor of Arthur and against all the others."

"I don't believe all ten of 'em together could have pulled it out,"

Mollie put in. "It was one of those trick swords, like men swallow at

circuses, I guess, and I'm certain that Mr. Merlin put it there, and

showed Arthur how the trick worked. It had a spring in it, which he

could touch with his thumb to make it come out, maybe."

"Maybe so," said her father, "although I doubt it. There were lots of

queer things happening in those days that we of to-day would hardly

believe if we saw them with our own eyes--things that sound in the

telling of them quite like fairy stories."

"Like Merlin being able to tell what was going to happen next week?"

suggested Jack.

"Exactly," said the Story-teller. "If anybody claimed to be able to do

that now, we'd laugh at him."

"He'd be a great man for a newspaper," said Jack. "If a newspaper had a

man like that on it, it could tell the people in advance that such and

such an accident was going to happen at such and such a time on such and

such a railroad, and then the people wouldn't go on that road at that

time, and their lives would be saved."

"That's so," said Mollie. "And if the accident was going to happen

because a switchman was asleep, somebody could be sent ahead to wake him

up, so that the accident wouldn't happen at all."

"There is no doubt about it," said the Story-teller. "A man like Merlin

would be very useful in these days, but his kind is very much like the

leviathans and mastodons that lived before the flood. The race has died

out, and true prophets are as scarce now as huckleberries in December.

But to come back to the story, whether there was a spring in the sword

or not, Merlin was undoubtedly responsible for it, and whatever he did,

he did it in Arthur's behalf, for when Candlemas day came about again

the same thing happened that had happened before. The sword would not

budge for any one but Arthur, and a great many people began to be

convinced that he was the rightful King. There were enough dissatisfied

persons, however, to make one more trial necessary, and the Archbishop,

yielding to these, set one more date, that of Easter, for the final

contest."

"He had to earn it, didn't he," said Mollie.

"You bet he did," said Jack. "It must have been like our medals at

school. You've got to win it six times in succession, once every month,

before it's yours for keeps."

"But you know about that rule before you begin," said Mollie. "It's fair

enough in school, but it seems to me Arthur won it at the start, and

ought to have had it."

"He certainly did win it at the start, under the terms of the contest,"

said her father. "Still it was just as well, under the circumstances,

that there should be no dissatisfaction among those who lost, and as it

wasn't at all hard for Arthur to pull the sword out, he couldn't

complain. The others had to work a great deal harder than he did, and,

in the end, got nothing for their pains."

"I guess the Archbishop kind of liked to see all those people pulling

and hauling at it," suggested Jack, with a grin. "It must have been

something like a circus for him, anyhow, with all those knights in their

fine spangles, and their horses with splendid harness, and all that."

[Illustration: THEY ALL KNELT BEFORE HIM, AND HE WAS CROWNED.]

"Very likely," said the Story-teller. "That view of it never occurred to

me before. It has always been a matter of wonder to me that the

Archbishop made poor Arthur go through the ordeal so many times, but now

I begin to understand it. He wanted to be entertained as much as anybody

else, and very possibly he ordered so many repetitions of the

performances to that end, knowing, of course, that by so doing he could

not injure Arthur's chances. Arthur had to be very careful of himself,

however, between times. The other Knights were too anxious for the prize

to stop at playing tricks on him, and Sir Ector saw to it that wherever

he went he had a strong guard about him to keep him from harm. These

guards, made up of the most faithful men in his father's service, kept

watch over him night and day until Easter, when the final trial came off

with no change in the result. Arthur pulled the sword lightly out of the

stone, but despite their struggles the others could do nothing with it.

Then the people themselves were satisfied. The Knights may not have

liked it any better than before, but the people did, and they cheered

him to the echo, and said that the question was now settled for once and

for all, and offered to slay any man who now dared to say that Arthur

was not entitled to the throne. They all knelt before him, and he was

knighted by one of the bravest men of the day, and shortly after he was

crowned. It was a long trial for him, but he was patient and worthy, and

withstood every test, and in the end he got his reward."

"Well, I'm glad of it," said Jack. "The way they made him work for it

seems to me to have entitled him to it."

"Papa," said Mollie, after a little thought on the matter, "was this

King Arthur any relation to the man Jack-the-Giant-Killer was always

sending giant's heads to."

"He was the very same man," replied her father. "Why?"

"I was only thinking," said Mollie, "that if it was the same man, Jack

couldn't have tried to pull that sword out, because I'm pretty certain

he could have done it."

"Perhaps," said her father, "but that could only have left the question

as to the rightful King unsettled."

"I don't think so," cried Jack. "Because then they'd have had to have a

match between Arthur and Jack. That would have settled it."

"And who do you think would have won in that event?" asked the

Story-teller.

"Well," said Mollie, dubiously, "of course, I don't know, but I'd have

stood for Jack."

"I'm with you, then," said the modern Jack. "A boy who could handle

giants the way he did wouldn't have had much trouble with a fellow like

Arthur."

[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]

The rivalry between Worcester and Phillips Andover academies, which has

existed ever since the two big schools first met on track and field in

the New England Interscholastics, was made even greater by the dual

games held at Worcester on the 8th. Andover had felt confident of

winning, but a combination of hard luck and a poor and unfamiliar track

tended to cause her defeat. As at Hartford, for the Connecticut

H.-S.A.A. games on the same day, there was a bad wind blowing up the

track which interfered with good time for the sprints, the 100 being

done to the exceedingly slow time of 11-1/5 secs. The score of 62 to 50,

however, does not by any means show how close the contest was, for first

one side was ahead and then the other; so that it was not until the last

event of the day had been decided that the Worcester contingent felt

certain of their victory. To-day the Andover men are doubtless somewhat

consoled by the way their athletes turned the tables on their Worcester

rivals at the Interscholastics on the 15th, and the regrets for defeat

must be considerably lessened by the conviction that should the

Worcester contest be held again, the result would certainly be

different. Andover made 25 points at Cambridge, while Worcester Academy

scored but 9-2/5.

[Illustration: Holt, P.A. Hine, P.A. Chase, W.A.

120-YARD HURDLE RACE, ANDOVER-WORCESTER GAMES]

Where Andover suffered most at Worcester was in the bicycle race and in

the 100-yard dash. Manning was fully ten yards ahead of the field in the

former event, and it looked as if the dark blue were here sure of six

points at least, for Palmer was coming along rapidly behind him, when

the leader lost control of his wheel and fell. Palmer rushed up and

tumbled almost at the same spot, leaving Forsyth the only Andover man in

the race. The latter forged ahead, and by a powerful spurt passed

Campbell of Worcester, who was leading. He thought he had won as he shot

past the winning post, but he had gone only seven laps, and as he slowed

up the three Worcester riders went by him to take all the points at the

finish. In the 100 the judges made a bad decision. Every one on the

field--excepting those whose province it was to do so--saw Senn of

Andover win the race by about a foot. Sargent was announced the victor,

however, and for some odd reason Andover made no protest. Perhaps they

were too confident of victory. But even if Senn had been awarded the

first place (all the other events resulting as they did), the score

would still have been in Worcester's favor--59 to 53, so the mistake of

the judges was of little consequence, except to Senn as an individual.

[Illustration: Barker, W.A. Gaskell, P.A. Munn, P.A.

THE 220-YARD RUN, WORCESTER-ANDOVER GAMES.]

Holt of Andover did the best work for the visiting team. He captured the

high hurdles in 18-3/5 secs., put the 16-lb. shot 33 ft. 6 in., and

threw the 12-lb. hammer 104 ft. 6 in. In the weight events he did not

equal his own best records. Laing ran a good race in the half-mile and

the mile, leading all the way in both events, and in the latter he was

followed home by two of his schoolmates. It is noteworthy that in almost

all sports where Andover men enter they are particularly strong in the

long-distance runs. The field events were the most exciting for the

spectators, because the score was such that all depended on the result

of these. Here the Andover men excelled, but on the track, as will

readily be seen from the table of results printed in this Department

last week, the Worcester athletes were superior. On the whole, the

meeting between the two teams was most successful, and Worcester Academy

deserves great praise for her victory. She won it by hard work, and

deserved every point scored. At the present moment the Worcester schools

may justly claim first place in the ranks of track athletic sports; for

after the High-School's performance on Holmes Field, on the 15th, it is

plain that few scholastic associations could hope to worst them.

On the following Wednesday Andover did better. The nine met the

Lawrenceville baseball team on their own grounds and it was theirs.

Everybody was surprised; even Andover. Not so much at the victory,

perhaps, for P.A. men are always sanguine, but no one anticipated a

whitewash. Andover put up the best game of the year, and I have not seen

Lawrenceville play worse. Men who had scarcely made any errors during

the entire season muffed and fumbled like a lot of novices; and in

betweentimes the Andover men pounded the ball, and the crowd helped

things along generally by plenty of shouting. Perhaps the crowd and the

unfamiliar field had something to do with Lawrenceville's defeat, but it

is hard to understand why the Jersey players, who have been batting well

all the spring, could not find the ball when they had men on second and

third. Possibly Sedgwick can explain this. Sedgwick was a host in

himself, and he received such support as has not been given by the

Andover players to any pitcher this season. He struck out nine of his

opponents and gave only two bases on balls, whereas he was hit safely

only six times. Drew, who caught him, played an errorless game; in fact,

every man on the team did, with the exception of Harker, who made in the

first inning the only misplay for the side.

The hard hitting of the home team would have won the game even if

Lawrenceville had shown better field-work. P.A. made twelve hits,

including a two-bagger, two three-base hits, and a home run. Greenway

led with two singles and a three-bagger, while Barton made a two-bagger

and a home run. As for the error-making, Lawrenceville took the lead in

that in the fourth inning. Sedgwick got his base on balls, and was

thrown out at second; Greenway took first on an error and second on an

error; Elliott got to first on balls; Dayton followed him on an error,

which let Greenway home; Waddell went to first after being struck by a

ball, and after Davis had struck out both Dayton and Elliott scored on

an error. Fortunately for Lawrenceville, the inning was closed by

Waddell's being thrown out at third.

This is the third consecutive defeat that Lawrenceville has suffered at

the hands of Andover in baseball, and never before has the victory of

the Massachusetts team been so decided. The only way to account for the

Jerseymen's weakness is that they were affected by the long journey, and

were probably "rattled" by the Andover crowd. This Lawrenceville nine

can do better. A team that can play the University of Pennsylvania 6-8

and Princeton 2-5 ought not to succumb to Andover by 11-0. The following

day Lawrenceville met Exeter, but only seven innings were played, as the

visitors had to catch a train for home. When play was stopped the score

stood 3-3, and there was considerable dissatisfaction on Exeter's part

because the last two innings could not be finished. Lawrenceville showed

better form than was exhibited at Andover, making only two errors; but

Exeter was playing good ball too, and it is an open question now as to

which is the better team. Next year more careful arrangements should be

made, for the memory of this season's game will always be

unsatisfactory.

NEW ENGLAND I.S.A.A. GAMES, HOLMES FIELD, CAMBRIDGE, JUNE 15, 1895.

N.E.I.S.A.A.

Event. Record Made by

100-yard dash 10-1/5 sec. F. H. Bigelow, W.H.-S., 1894

220-yard run 22-2/5 " F. H. Bigelow, W.H.-S., 1894

440-yard run 50-3/5 " T. E. Burke, E.H.-S., 1894

Half-mile run 2 m. 6 " S. Wesson, W.A., 1894

Mile run 4 " 34-2/5 " W. T. Laing, P.A., 1894

Mile walk 7 " 36 " P. J. McLaughlin, W.H.-S., '93

120-yard hurdle 17-2/5 " W. W. Hoyt, R.L.S., 1893

220-yard hurdle 27 " A. H. Hine, P.A., 1894

Mile bicycle 2 " 41-3/5 " A. A. Densmore, Hopkinson, '93

Running high jump 5 ft. 7-3/4 in. C. J. Paine, Hopkinson, 1893

Running broad jump 21 " 6 " C. Brewer, Hopkinson, 1890

Pole vault 10 " 6-3/4 " W. W. Hoyt, R.L.S., 1894

Throwing 12-lb. ham'r 125 " R. F. Johnson, B.H.-S., 1894

Putting 16-lb. shot 39 " 3 " M. O'Brien, E.H.-S., 1894

Event. Winner June 15, 1895. Performance.

100-yard dash J. T. Roche, W.H.-S. 10-3/5 sec.

220-yard run J. T. Roche, W.H.-S. 23-2/5 "

440-yard run R. S. Hull, W.H.-S. 53-3/5 "

Half-mile run A. Albertson, W.H.-S. 2 m. 5 "

Mile run D. T. Sullivan, W.H.-S. 4 " 42-4/5 "

Mile walk C. V. Moore, N.H.-S. 7 " 18-3/5 "

120-yard hurdle A. H. Hine, P.A. 18-1/5 "

220-yard hurdle A. H. Hine, P.A. 27-4/5 "

Mile bicycle H. Freyberg, W.H.-S. 2 " 40-3/5 "

F. Holt, R.L.S. } 5 " 7-1/2 "

Running high jump R. Ferguson, E.H.-S. }

Running broad jump E. L. Mills, S.H.-S. 20 " 3 "

Pole vault B. Johnson, W.A. 10 " 7 "

Throwing 12-lb. ham'r M. Sargent, Hopkinson 119 " 4 "

Putting 16-lb. shot E. Holt, P.A. 36 " 11-1/2 "

Points made by Schools.

Worcester H.-S. 33

Andover 25

English H.-S. 12-1/2

Worcester Academy 9-2/5

Hopkinson 6

Newton H.-S. 5-1/5

Somerville H.-S. 5

Noble's 4-1/5

Roxbury Latin 3-1/2

Cambridge H. and L. 3

Lynn H.-S. 2-1/5

Chelsea H.-S. 2

Chauncey Hall 1

---

Total 112

Firsts count 5. Seconds 2. Thirds 1.

The championship pennant of the New England I.S.A.A. remains at

Worcester. It was carried down there by the High-School athletes last

March, and they made their title to it secure on Holmes Field a week ago

Saturday by rolling up a score twenty points greater than any Boston

school--greater, in fact, than the scores of all the Boston schools put

together. Andover had the satisfaction of finishing second, with her old

rival, the Worcester Academy, who defeated her the week before, in

fourth place. The games were well managed, and, considering the fact

that there were 335 entries, the events were run off with commendable

promptness. Four records were broken, and a good many others that are up

pretty high already were closely approached, as the accompanying table

will show. The marks that went were the half-mile, the walk, the

bicycle, and the pole vault. Albertson, W.H.-S., has held the record for

the 1000-yard run for two years, and his practice at that distance has

made him a capable runner for the half. He kept well back in the bunch

when the race started, and waited until the very last corner was behind

him before he attempted to pull away from his companions. Then he

spurted, and passed the three men ahead of him, winning easily a full

second under record time.

The biggest alteration of figures, however, was made after Moore of

Newton H.-S. had won the mile walk. He was looked upon as a winner at

the start, but no one anticipated such an excellent performance as 7

min. 18-3/5 sec. He is as graceful in his work as any man can be in this

acrobatic event, and will surely be heard from in years to come if the

walk is not abolished from the amateur and collegiate programmes. The

probabilities are, however, that in a very few years the walk, like the

tug-of-war, will be a back number; but Moore is a good athlete, and he

will surely be able to be just as prominent in some other branch of

sport. The spectators were almost as deeply interested in Rudischhauser

and Williams's contest for last place, as they were in Moore's struggle

for first.

A pleasing feature of the bicycle races was the absence of accidents.

There was not a single spill, and every man rode for all he was worth.

New men took the points; and that is a good thing. Both Freyberg and

Druett broke the tape ahead of record time in the second heat, but in

the finals they ran four seconds behind. The final heat, although not

the fastest, was the most interesting. Six men started, and for the

first quarter Freyberg held the lead. Then he was passed by Boardman and

Cunningham, who set the pace for a lap, after which the W.H.-S. rider

pushed ahead, and left every one behind. The finish spurt was good, but

it was evident that every rider was tired from the effects of the trial

heats. It would be well next year to follow the plan adopted by the

Inter-collegiate Association of having the preliminary heats on the

previous day.

[Illustration: A. H. HINE.]

[Illustration: E. G. HOLT.]

None of the field events were particularly interesting, except the pole

vault, in which Johnson of Worcester Academy broke Hoyt's record by a

quarter of an inch. The high jumpers only reached 5 ft. 7-1/2 in., where

Holt, R.L.S., and Ferguson, E.H.-S., tied for first place. Mills of

Somerville High came in as an unknown quantity, and took the broad jump

with a leap of 20 ft. 3 in. Andover's strong men were Holt and Hine. At

the dual games at Worcester, Holt did giant's work, but at the

Interscholastics he only took one first, in the shot, defeating O'Brien,

whom many had looked upon as a sure winner, and a place with the hammer.

Hine's hurdling was most graceful, and both races were exciting. In the

high finals the racers kept well abreast for thirty yards; then Hine

forged slowly ahead, but was overtaken by Ferguson, whom he beat home by

a few feet only. The low hurdles were even more thrilling. Fuller led at

the start, but was caught by Hine at the fourth hurdle. Then it was jump

and jump for twenty-five or thirty yards; but Hine had better form, and

came in several feet ahead. The day was most satisfactory from the point

of view of sport, and every performance of the New-Englanders made me

wish they might meet the New York school athletes on an open track and a

level field. What a contest that would be! No effort should be spared to

bring it about, and the only way to do it is to form one large

all-embracing Interscholastic Association.

One correspondent urges Hartford as the most suitable place for the

meeting. He believes it would be preferable to New Haven for many

reasons, one of which is that the Yale field track is only a quarter of

a mile around, whereas the track at the Charter Oak Park is a mile in

circumference and sixty feet wide. It is a question whether, for the

purposes of an Interscholastic meet of this kind, a mile track would be

as good as a lesser one. The time made might be faster if the road-bed

were in good condition, but the spectators would not enjoy the races so

much as if the runners passed the grand stand a number of times; and the

men themselves would find greater difficulty in gauging their speed,

most of them being accustomed to four or five lap tracks. A better

argument in favor of Hartford is that three railroads centre there.

Of the school athletes who took part in the New York A.C. games at

Travers Island, several secured places. Baltazzi won first in the high

jump, clearing 5 ft. 10-1/4 in. Fisher went into the 100 and the 220,

but was distanced, and Powell got a tumble in the bicycle race. Whether

it was his own fault, I cannot say; but there are very few races he has

ridden in this year where he has been able to keep in his saddle all the

way around the course. He retained his seat in the Interscholastics and

won. W. T. Laing came down from Andover, and entered the mile with

Conneff and Orton. He had 40 yards handicap, and came in second, with

Orton behind him. Orton, however, was pretty well fagged out from the

effects of his half-mile race with Walsh. F. W. Phillips, of Bryant and

Stratton's, had a handicap of 6 inches in the pole vault, and by making

an actual leap of 10 ft. 3 in., secured first, over Baxter at scratch,

who cleared 10 ft. 6 in.

Some creditable performances were made at the field meeting of the

Pittsburg Interscholastic A.A., which was held at the Pittsburg Athletic

Club Park last week. Only four schools were represented, but the crowd

was enthusiastic and the events well managed. Graff, of Shadyside

Academy, did the best all-round work. He won the 100 in 10-2/5 sec., and

the 220 in 24 sec., besides taking first in the hop, step, and jump

(another of those acrobatic events which have been handed down from the

Dark Ages), and third in the shot. If the Pittsburg H.-S. athletes had

been better trained they would have made a more creditable showing, for

there is good material there. As it was, they managed to score 21 points

out of a possible 135. Shadyside Academy, the winner, got 51, and was

followed by the Park Institute with 44. Allegheny, the tail-ender,

scored 19 points.

The championship of the Southern Connecticut Baseball League went to the

Black Hall School again this year. The final game was played on June

1st, against the Norwich Free Academy. The Black Hall team suffered only

one defeat out of the six games of the series--a very creditable

performance, considering the numerical size and athletic strength of the

other schools in the League. Their success was due to the steady work of

the battery, their strong batting, and careful base-running.

THE GRADUATE.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Highest of all in Leavening Power.--Latest U. S. Gov't Report.

[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]

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[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

HARPERS NEW CATALOGUE.

Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent by mail to any

address on receipt of ten cents.

[Illustration: BICYCLING]

This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the

Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our

maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly supplied from the

official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen.

Recognizing the value of the work being done by the L. A. W., the

Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with membership

blanks and information so far as possible.

[Illustration: Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.]

The map this week continues from the point, Tarrytown, reached on map

published in No. 810 of the ROUND TABLE, to Poughkeepsie, a ride of over

forty miles, which would be another and second stage on the route from

New York to Albany. All routes of this nature must, of course, be

divided by wheelmen reading this Department into sections of a length

which is most suitable for their own special purposes. It is perfectly

simple, for example, for a good rider to go from New York to

Poughkeepsie in one day. On the other hand, for one who is unaccustomed

to long distances the route shown on this map, from Tarrytown to

Poughkeepsie, is a very good ride. When the series, therefore, covering

a distance from New York to Albany is published, by putting the maps

together each wheelman may choose how far he will go each day.

Running out of Tarrytown, the rider takes the Albany Post Road and

passes the Andre Monument (1), which he should pause to examine. After

leaving this monument he will come to St. Paul's Methodist Episcopal

Church. Here he should turn to the left and go down a long hill, thence

following the turnpike, which is unmistakable, until he reaches Sing

Sing, a distance of seven miles. If the wheelman takes time for it, he

may turn down to the river, about a mile before reaching Sing Sing, and

stop a moment to take a look at the State-prison. From Sing Sing the

road to Peekskill is direct; but it is a difficult twelve-mile ride,

with hills all along the way, especially just before crossing to Croton

Point, again on the Point, and then all the way up to Peekskill. The

road itself is sandy, and occasionally covered with loam. The riding is

not very good, and the wheelman is wise if he dismounts frequently.

After leaving Croton, and when approaching Verplank Point, he can look

across the river to Haverstraw, and see Treason Hill, where the meeting

between Arnold and Andre took place, and the terms of the surrender of

West Point were made. From Peekskill the rider runs out about half a

mile to the north, then turns to the left and follows the telegraph

poles to Garrison's. Immediately after crossing the bridges, on going

out of Peekskill, he will notice on the left the State Camp (4). The

road is sandy, and there are some bad hills over these eight miles.

If the rider has time to stop for a look at historic places, he should

turn to the left after leaving the Peekskill encampment-grounds and run

down to Highland Station, from whence he can see across the river the

site of old Forts Clinton and Montgomery (5 and 6). Keeping on this road

and running up to Garrison's along the shore, he will pass Beverly

House, Arnold's old headquarters (7). At Garrison's is the old Phillipse

Manor, and directly across the river is the United States Military

Academy of West Point. The best road from this point to Wappinger's

Falls is to follow the black route on the map, keeping to the right

beyond Garrison's, and running on through Fishkill to Wappinger's Falls,

a distance of eighteen miles.

It is possible, however, to keep to the left just beyond Garrison's, and

following the fair bicycle route, keep to the shore of the Hudson. The

road, however, is much more hilly through these highlands. By taking

this route the wheelman may cross the ferry at Fishkill village to

Newburg, where he may see the Washington headquarters (10), and Knox's

headquarters and winter camp (11) just outside Newburg. On the road from

Fishkill-on-the-Hudson to Fishkill itself he will pass the State

Hospital for the Insane (12). The road from Wappinger's Falls into

Poughkeepsie, a distance of eight and a quarter miles, is moderately

good. The roads are easy riding, and the grades are not bad. The rider

should turn to the right on leaving Wappinger's Falls, cross Wappinger's

Creek, and take South Avenue direct into Poughkeepsie. On the way he

passes at the right of the Gallaudet Home for Deaf-Mutes (13), and if he

cares to, after reaching Poughkeepsie, he may struggle up the

Poughkeepsie Hills to take a look at Vassar College (14).

NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of

route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,

Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New

Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.

Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.

* * * * *

A CITY BOY'S CONCLUSION.

The cricket 'neath the old rail fence

His song forever toots.

And sounds as if he's breaking in

A brand-new pair of boots.

[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]

This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young

Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on

the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address

Editor.

Among the accomplishments which girls may cultivate to advantage none

surpasses that of reading aloud to the satisfaction of others. It is

singular that more of us do not acquire this delightful art. I do not

mean that we should become elocutionists, or study to be proficient in

dramatic effects; I simply advise girls who wish to give pleasure to

their families and friends to practise the art of reading intelligently,

in a clear and distinct voice, pronouncing their words plainly, giving

each sentence its full meaning, and being careful not to drop the voice

too suddenly at the end of a paragraph. It is so natural to let the

voice fall too much and too far at the close of a paragraph, that those

who wish to be heard make a point of learning how to use the rising

inflection--not to the degree which implies interrogation, but, so to

speak, leaving off with tones on the level, so that the voice carries

well across the room.

During vacation you will have opportunities to exercise this gift if you

possess it. Half a dozen girls may enjoy the same story if one reads

aloud while the rest work. The dear auntie whose sight is failing, and

who is bidden by the doctor to rest her eyes, will be very much obliged

to you if you will read to her an hour or more a day at intervals, as

she and you may find convenient.

I have found in my own experience that when I am reading with a view to

remembering a poem or essay or chapter of history, it is fixed upon my

mind more readily than otherwise if I read the passage aloud to myself.

Hearing as well as seeing the words, two senses aid in carrying the

message to the brain. I like to read poetry aloud when I am alone, thus

doubly enjoying its music and its feeling.

As every bright young woman should be informed about current events, my

girl friends hardly need the reminder to read the daily papers. In doing

this, read according to system. You will be able to secure better

results if you have a plan than if you scan the journal taken in your

home in a slip-shod, heedless way.

Every newspaper has its summary of contents, in which the news of that

day and paper are condensed and presented in a compact form. Read this

first. Select from this what you most wish to read--the foreign letters,

the society gossip, the political leaders, the description of a

prominent personage. Whatever you read, read with your whole attention,

and learn how to skip a great many things which, while coming under the

head of news, are not important to you. Reports of crime, for example,

must be published, but you and I can very well omit reading them.

Somebody in the house, and it may as well be you, dear daughter Jane or

Charlotte, should take upon herself to see that the daily papers are not

spirited off to line closet-shelves or kindle the kitchen fire before

they are a week old. Father often wishes to refer to last Thursday's

_Sun_ or _Tribune_, Brother Tom wants another look at yesterday's

_Herald_ or the _Weekly Record_ or _Register_, whatever the favorite

paper may be. Nothing is more annoying than to search the house

over--mother's room, the library, the back parlor, the halls--and

discover no trace of the longed-for sheet, which probably has been

dissolved into ashes, fluff, and smoke, to save Bridget a little

trouble. You might charge yourself with seeing that no paper is ever

destroyed until it is a whole week old. Also when a paper contains an

item or a story which will probably interest grandmother or Uncle Roger

in another town, it is very sweet in you to slip a wrapper around the

paper, first marking the column in question, and mail it to the person

to whom it will give pleasure. Do not forget the marking. Nobody likes

to spend a morning hunting for the reason why a paper has been sent to

him.

[Illustration: Signature]

* * * * *

DON'T WORRY YOURSELF

and don't worry the baby: avoid both unpleasant conditions by giving the

child pure, digestible food. Don't use solid preparations. _Infant

Health_ is a valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your address to the New

York Condensed Milk Company, N. Y.--[_Adv._]

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Postage Stamps, &c.

[Illustration]

100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti,

Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts wanted at 50 per ct. com. List FREE!

=C. A. Stegmann=, 2722 Eads Av., St. Louis, Mo.

=50= var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland, 15c.; 6 var. Italy, 1858

to 1862, 5c.; 3 var. Hanover, 5c.; 35 var. C. American, 50c. Agents

wanted.

F. W. MILLER, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.

=100= all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.; 40 Spain, 40c.;

6 Tunis, 14c.; 10 U. S. Revenues, 10c. Agts. wtd., 50% com.; '95 list

free.

CRITTENDEN & BORGMAN CO., Detroit, Mich.

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

[Illustration]

a Living Picture

of health--because she uses Pond's Extract at her toilet, and

appreciates the fact that no substitute can equal it.

Avoid substitutes; accept genuine only, with buff wrapper and yellow

label.

POND'S EXTRACT CO., 76 Fifth Ave., New York.

[Illustration]

Sick Headache

and

Constipation

are quickly and pleasantly cured by

Tarrant's Effervescent Seltzer Aperient.

The most valuable family remedy for

Disordered Stomach

and

Impaired Digestion.

50 Cents and $1.00--All Druggists.

=FREE=--Palmer Cox's, =The Brownies' Discovery=--Illustrated.

TARRANT & CO., Chemists, New York.

[Illustration]

The Eight Numbers of the Franklin Square Song Collection contain

1600

of the Choicest Old and New Songs and Hymns in the Wide World.

Fifty Cents per Number in paper; Sixty Cents in substantial Board

binding; One Dollar in Cloth. The Eight Numbers also bound in two

volumes at $3.00 each. Address Harper & Brothers, New York.

Prize Story Awards.

The Round Table offered a First Prize of $50, a Second of $25, and a

Third of $25 for the best original stories written by authors who had

not passed their eighteenth birthday. There was no condition about the

kind of a story required, but appearance of manuscript, spelling,

construction, character, and plot were to be considered. Stories were

required to contain not more than two thousand nor fewer than one

thousand words. There were a few under five hundred contestants, some of

whom were as young as ten, and in one case seven years. Many stories

were extremely clever, considering the ages of their authors.

The First Prize is won by a Knight who lives in Delaware. His name is

Henry S. Canby, aged sixteen. A Knight, also from a Southern State

(South Carolina), won the first prize in the Table's previous story

contest. The Second Prize is won by a Lady. She is thirteen, and lives

in Minnesota. Her name is Nancy Howe Wood, and the title of her story,

which will be published in order, is "An Exciting Game." The story

standing third is "Joey's Christmas." It reached us bearing no name of

the writer, although it said it was intended for this contest. Owing to

this oversight by the author we cannot award it the Third Prize. We

will, however, give the author, when found, an extra prize of $10. Will

he or she write us? The Third Prize is awarded to the story standing

fourth. It is "The Beverly Ghost," by Jennie Mae Blakeslee, aged

fifteen, a resident of New Jersey. The Table congratulates the winners.

Stories by the following authors are specially commended, the order of

that praise being indicated by the order in which names are printed:

Upton B. Sinclair, Jun., Frances Chittenden, Constance F. Wheeler, Edith

den Bleyker, Alice E. Dyar, Mande Newbolt, A. D. Parsons, Oliver Bunce

Ferris, Agnes Barton, Fanny Fullerton, Joseph B. Ames, Helen H. Hayes,

Louis E. Thayer, George Clarkson Hirts, George W. Halliwell, Jun., Janet

Ashley, Ray Bailey Stevenson, Edith Eckfield, Gay Hugh Leland, Helen L.

Birnie, Virginia Louise De Caskey.

An Old Civil War Veteran.

Living here is the oldest cavalry horse of the civil war. He belongs to

Sergeant B. F. Crawford, Company C, Sixteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry, who

captured him in Virginia just after his owner had been shot from his

back. He was then eight years old. Now he is forty, as black as coal,

save for some gray hairs in mane and tail, and still fond of martial

music, especially on Decoration day, the local parade of which he always

forms a part. Last year he went to the National Encampment of the Grand

Army at Pittsburg, but he is too feeble to go to another. "Old Ned" is

his name, and he is a universal favorite. His greatest war service was

his three days at Gettysburg, where he was in at the beginning and

finish, and didn't get a scratch.

HARRY MOORHEAD.

NORTH EAST, PA.

Care and Food of Fresh-water Turtles.

Several members ask about the care and food of turtles--really

fresh-water tortoises. They should be kept in a tank or vessel, with

some sort of an island upon which they may crawl when tired of swimming.

The best food for them is fresh animal food--flies, worms, or very tiny

live fish. If a live fly is put on the water so that it will kick, the

tortoise will come up and get it, as he will not be so apt to do with a

dead one. A worm may be dropped in for him once in a while; but as these

are sometimes hard to find, he may be fed with bits of meat, raw or

cooked. As a rule, tortoises will not eat vegetables or bread, though

these will not hurt them. They can go for a long time without food, but

it is better to feed them every day.

A Jaunt Up Mount Macedon.

One fine day in December a few girl friends and I thought of walking

from Woodend to the top of Mount Macedon and back again. The first part

of the road leading to the Mount was smooth, and the shade thrown by the

eucalyptus-trees was very pleasant. As we got further on it became

rather hot, and we were glad to rest and eat our luncheon in a cool spot

about half-way up the Mount. Lilac Walk is a beautiful spot at the top

of Mount Macedon, and is so called because wild lilac blooms there in

profusion. The trees, which are tall, interlace and form arches, which

almost shut out the sun.

The Camel's Hump is the highest peak of Mount Macedon. It was a very

steep climb, but we were rewarded for it. We could see around us miles

and miles of beautiful country, with here and there a tiny house among

the trees. On a fine day you can see Port Phillip Bay, which is over

forty miles distant. On our way back we saw a beautiful place thickly

covered with ferns, with a tiny stream running through it. We did not

feel very tired when we got there, although we had walked fourteen

miles. I intend forwarding you next time a brief description of the

Hanging Rock near Woodend.

EVELINE WALLACE, R. T. L.

TASMA, MORELAND RD., W. COBURG.

What Shall Our Badges Be?

The Founders decided the Order is to have a new badge, to be made in two

styles. One is to be of silver, or at least of some material that may be

secured at a low price, say ten cents, and the other of gold, or gold

and enamel, to cost as much as fifty cents, perhaps; certainly little if

any more. A score or more Founders suggested that designs be submitted.

Very good. Now where shall we get the designs? Do members wish to give

us some? If so, send them in. Draw them in either India or wash, that we

may reproduce them.

[Illustration]

Here is the top of what is said to be the original King Arthur's Table.

It is preserved in the cathedral at Winchester, England. The figure is

that of Arthur, and the names are those of the original Knights. It was

suggested that the badge be a reproduction of this, but if the entire

table-top be employed designs will be so small they cannot be read.

Besides, we Americans hardly want to wear badges bearing a figure of

royalty, do we? Why not use the rose in the centre--the rose is

historic--and vary the inscription around it?

In making designs, be careful to consider the time and nation. One

member sends us a design in which appears the fleur-de-lis, which is

French, not English. The sword, ancient pattern, the red and white rose,

the cross, other than the Latin--all these may be used. Of course we

will keep the "K. L. O. R. T." If need be, the words could be spelled

out: "Knights: Ladies: Order: Round: Table." Let us have your designs at

once. Any who wish may submit them. The two or three best will be

published, if made so we can reproduce them. Possibly an artist can

select the best features of several and combine them. So send along your

ideas.

How to Plan a Gala Evening.

For July or August there are few entertainments more novel and

delightful than out-of-door ones. Why not have some in aid of the School

Fund? Or they might be partly in aid of the Fund and partly for the

benefit of a Chapter. The way to begin is to get together from six to a

dozen friends, and then write to us for particulars.

Here is briefly what we shall recommend, but be sure to write, because

we can give you more explicit directions than we have space for here. We

shall give you titles of some very funny farces and pantomimes, similar

to those that college students give as burlesques, and which any company

of persons of any age can learn and render with very little trouble and

with certain success. We shall also tell you how to build a rustic stage

out of doors, to arrange hemlocks or spruces for "scenery," etc. A good

way is to charge a fee of twenty-five cents, and give, after the stage

entertainment is over, a plate of ice-cream free. You will have plenty

of fun--and help a good cause, and perhaps yourselves. Write us, sure.

A Natural History Bit.

There are a great many violets about here, and the ones we have the most

of are the swamp violets and the little ones that grow in the fields.

The swamp violets are a very light purple with darker lines on the lower

petal. There are from two to twenty violets on one plant. They grow in

the woods and in wet places. The white violets also grow in the woods.

They are very much smaller, and are entirely white except the lower

petal, which has purple lines. They are very sweet. I have never seen

more than seven or eight violets on one plant.

There are three other kinds that I know of that grow in the woods. One

is the yellow violet. It grows in dry places, and there is usually more

than one violet on a stem. The leaves also grow on the stem, instead of

starting from the roots, as most others do. The flower is a bright

yellow, with purple lines on the lower petal. There is the crow's-foot

violet, which grows in dry places and is a deep purple; also a little

purple violet whose name I do not know. It grows much like the yellow

violet, only it is much smaller, and often grows on rocks where there is

very little earth.

The violet that grows in the fields is very small, and is oftenest a

deep purple, but sometimes the petals are purple and white mottled

together.

H. W. S.

CONNECTICUT.

A Bit of An Old Fort.

Not very far from Bluffton near Beaufort is situated the island called

Paris Island. A friend of my father's owns a part of this, and he says

that on it are the remains of old Fort Charles, built by the Huguenots

in 1562. Will some one please write to me? I am fourteen. Bluffton is in

the very southwestern part of Beaufort County, S. C. The steamer _Alpha_

plies between Bluffton, Beaufort, and Savannah, but she is the slowest

steamer in existence.

AUGUST MITTELL.

BLUFFTON.

[Illustration: STAMPS]

This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin

collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question

on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should

address Editor Stamp Department.

The stamp editor wants to make this column as interesting and as useful

as possible to all the boys and girls who collect stamps. Is there any

subject on which you would like to have information? Shall we talk about

the United States stamps? Or about the great rarities which are so

eagerly sought by the advanced collectors that they are willing to pay

from $100 to $2500 each for these interesting little bits of paper? Or

about the different stamps issued in the Confederate States during the

great civil war? Or about the different water-marks, perforations,

papers, etc., which will make two stamps which "look just alike" worth

in the one case two cents and in the other $50? Or about auctions of

rare stamps? Or any other subject? Let us hear from you, boys and girls.

This is your column, and it shall be made as interesting as possible. Do

you keep the back numbers, so that you can refer to them? If you do, it

will be possible to answer fully some questions which are asked

frequently by simply referring to some other number in the current

volume.

Several collectors ask how to distinguish the provisional stamps used in

Peru during the war in 1881-83 between Chili and Peru. Counting all the

different types of each stamp, there are over one hundred in all, and

their enumeration in the standard stamp catalogues covers three or four

pages. Collectors who make a specialty of Peruvian stamps make the

number much larger. In general, these stamps are simply the regular

Peruvian issue of 1874-79 with different surcharges. The victorious

Chilians printed their coat of arms on these stamps--sometimes alone,

and at other times the arms and a band in a horseshoe frame, with the

words "Union Postal Universal--Peru." The Peruvians used the same

horseshoe band as a surcharge, but without the Chilian arms. Another

Peruvian surcharge is the triangle with the word "Peru," and above it a

character intended to represent the sun. As almost all these surcharges

were printed by a hand-stamp, they are easily counterfeited, and

collectors should be careful to buy these stamps from responsible

dealers only.

GILBERT JACKSON.--There are five varieties of the $5 United States

Internal Revenue stamps first issue. The perforated ones are worth

from two cents to thirty-five cents each. There are eleven $1

stamps of the same issue, worth from one cent to $2.50 each.

Twelve varieties of the fifty-cent stamp, worth from one cent to

$1 each.

J. R. P.--The 1875 reprints of 1869 are on very white paper. The

2c. of this issue is worth $3. Many of the 1869 issue show little

or nothing of the grille. The Cape of Good Hope are quoted in the

catalogue mentioned by you. The drawing enclosed by you is of a

German local which has no value. The other stamps are probably

revenues, but your description is imperfect.

FRITZ BRANDT.--The United States envelope which you describe is

the official service envelope of the Post-office Department. It is

a franked, not a stamped, envelope. It is not generally collected.

PHILATUS.

[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

To retain the brilliancy of Ginghams, wash them only in luke warm water,

in which a tablespoonful of salt and an equal quantity of Ivory Soap to

each gallon of water, have been dissolved. Dry in the shade.

THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI.

You Can't take too much of

[Illustration: HIRES' Rootbeer]

It quenches your thirst

That's the best of it.

Improves your health

That's the rest of it.

A 25 cent package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere. Made only by The

Chas. E. Hires Co., Phila.

[Illustration]

BASE BALL, HOW TO PLAY IT.

A Great Book, contains =all= the rules; also the _secret_ or pitching

curved balls, and to bat successfully. Rules for Football and Tennis.

Every player should have it. Entirely new and handsomely illustrated.

This =Great Book Free= to any one sending us 10 cents to pay postage.

=Also= Catalogue Guns, Revolvers, Musical Instruments, Magic Tricks.

=All for 10c. Order quick.= For =$1.25= we will send =Our Base Ball

Outfit=, consisting of 9 Caps, 9 Belts, 1 Ball, 1 Bat. =BATES SPORTING

CO., 100 High St., Boston, Mass.=

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

[Illustration: The Kombi Camera]

[Illustration]

Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures in one loading--reloading

costs 20c. Ask your dealer for it, or send for free booklet "All About

the Kombi."

ALFRED C. KEMPER,

Branches: London, Berlin. 132-134 Lake Street, Chicago

[Illustration]

CARD PRINTER =FREE=

Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. YOU can make

money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder,

Pads and Tweezers. Best Linen Marker; worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE

for 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and large catalogue of 1000

Bargains.

R. H. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 Cortlandt St. N.Y. City

[Illustration]

WONDER CABINET =FREE=. Missing Link Puzzle, Devil's Bottle, Pocket

Camera, Latest Wire Puzzle, Spook Photos, Book of Sleight of Hand, Total

Value 60c. Sent free with immense catalogue of 1000 Bargains for 10c.

for postage.

INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 Cortlandt Street N. Y.

=DEAFNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED= by my =INVISIBLE= Tubular Cushions. Have

helped more to good =HEAR=ing than all other devices combined. Whispers

=HEAR=d. Help ears as glasses do eyes. =F. Hiscox=, 853 B'dway, N.Y.

Book of proofs =FREE=

=Horned Toad=, alive, $1.00; horse-hair lariat, Indian make, $3.00; five

Indian pottery vessels, $2.00; Navajoe Indian blankets, $3.00: volcanic

glass chips, 15c., all prepaid.

C. W. RIGGS, WALLACE, N. M.

NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

* * * * *

By MRS. SANGSTER.

* * * * *

=Little Knights and Ladies.= Verses for Young People. By MARGARET

E. SANGSTER, Author of "On the Road Home," etc. Illustrated. 16mo,

Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1.25.

Healthful, natural, and just the simple narrative poems and kindly

temperate effusions most pleasing to children.--_Philadelphia Press._

The real poetry of child-life.--_Boston Advertiser._

Characterized by womanly feeling--by observation of and sympathy with

the child side of domestic life.--_N. Y. Mail and Express._

* * * * *

By W. J. HENDERSON.

* * * * *

=Afloat with the Flag.= By W. J. HENDERSON, Author of "Sea Yarns

for Boys," etc. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

A good healthy story, attractively written, full of stirring incident

and adventure.--_N. Y. Times._

W. J. Henderson sustains the reputation which he has achieved for

meritorious work by his latest juvenile book.... This volume of

adventure, battle, heroic endeavor, and thrilling struggle on sea and

land is a most captivating story told in the luminous and trenchant

style which characterizes this author's work.--_Philadelphia Press._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_For sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the publishers,

postage prepaid, on receipt of the price._

[Illustration: "NOW I KNOW PUSSY ATE UP MY GOLDFISH, FOR YOU CAN SEE THE

BONES STICKING OUT OF HER CHEEKS."]

A QUESTION OF PEDIGREE.

"Now who is that?" asked a dignified hen;

"That chicken in white and gray?

She's very well dressed, but from whence did she come?

And her family, who are _they_?"

"She never can move in our set, my dear,"

Said the old hen's friend to her, later;

"I've just found out--you'll be shocked to hear--

_She was hatched in an incubator!_"

Patrick, in answer to an advertisement for a coachman, applied for the

position. He was one of three applicants, and patiently waited until his

turn arrived to offer his services. The gentleman who wanted the

coachman loved a joke, and when the first applicant had answered a few

of his questions, he finally asked him,

"How near to the edge of a precipice would you undertake to drive my

carriage?"

"Your Honor, I'd come within a foot of it."

The same question was put to the second applicant, who replied,

"I'll drive within three inches of it all the way, and never slip a

wheel."

Patrick was then asked what he would do. "Faith, your Honor, I'd kape as

far away from the idge as possible." Patrick was engaged.

Every boy and girl has doubtless heard of the great composer Handel.

Here is a little story told of him and of Dr. Maurice Green, a musician

whose compositions were never remarkably fine. It seems he had sent a

solo anthem to Handel for his opinion, and Handel invited him to take

breakfast, and he would say what he thought of it. After coffee, Green's

patience became exhausted, and he said, "Well, sir, what did you think

of it?"

"Oh, your anthem! Ah, I did t'ink dat it wanted air."

"Air!" cried Green.

"Yes, air; and so I did hang it out of de vindow," replied Handel.

"James," asked the school-teacher, "what do you do with your odd moments

after school?"

"I waits until they adds up into an hour, and then I goes fishin'."

FREDDY (_five years old_). "Boys, keep away from me."

CHORUS. "Why, what's the matter?"

FREDDY. "The teacher said I was sharp to-day, and you might get cut."

MOTHER. "Frank, what is baby crying about?"

FRANK. "I guess because I took his cake and showed him how to eat it."

There is a story going the rounds of the British press about two very

distinguished archaeologists--Sir William Wilde and Dr. Donovan. It seems

that these two gentlemen made an excursion to the Isles of Arran, where

interesting remains of archaeological nature have been found.

They came across a little rough stone building, and both entered into a

fierce argument as to the exact century of its erection. Finally each

claimed a date, one giving it the sixth century, and the other a later

one.

A native who had listened with gaping mouth and ears to the lengthy and

learned terms used by the disputants, broke into the conversation with

the remark, "Faix, you're both wrong as far as that little buildin' is

consarned; it was built just two years ago by Tim Doolan for his

jackass."

THE HIGHWAYMAN AND THE TRAVELLER.

[Illustration]

A highwayman grim--here's a picture of him--

A traveller once did waylay,

[Illustration]

But his pistols were rusted; he fired: they busted.

[Illustration]

And the traveller went on his way.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, June 25, 1895, by Various