When Cynthia asked at Mrs. Parker's door if that lady were at home it
was not necessary for her to give her name. The maid recognized Miss
Trinkett at once.
"Yes, she's at home, ma'am. And won't you please step into the parlor,
Miss Trinkett? Mrs. Parker'll be glad to see you."
Mrs. Parker came hurrying down.
"Dear Miss Trinkett, how are you? Why, I should scarcely have known you!
What have you done to yourself?"
Cynthia laughed her great-aunt's high _staccato_ laugh.
"Well, now, I want to know, Mrs. Parker! Don't you see what it is? Why,
my nieces at Oakleigh, they saw right away what the difference was. I
thought 'twas about time I was keeping up with the fashions, and so I
bought me a fine new piece of hair for my front. I was growing somewhat
gray, and I thought 'twas best to keep young on Silas's account. It
isn't that I care for myself, but you have to be particular about
men-folks, as you'll know when you've seen as much of them as I have."
Cynthia was a good actress, and she carried herself precisely as Miss
Betsey did, and imitated her voice to perfection.
She repeated some of her aunt's best-known tales, and good Mrs. Parker
never dreamed of the possibility of her caller being any one but worthy
Miss Betsey Trinkett, of Wayborough, whom she had known for years.
Mrs. Parker was a great talker, and usually she was obliged to fight
hard to surpass Miss Trinkett in that respect. During the first part of
the call to-day it was as difficult as usual, but Mrs. Parker presently
made a remark which reduced her visitor to a state of alarming silence.
"I suppose you have come to announce the news," said the hostess,
smiling sympathetically.
"Now I don't know a bit of news. Why, my dear Mrs. Parker, Silas and I
we never--"
"Ah, but this has nothing to do with Silas, though it may affect you,
more or less. Surely you know what I am alluding to?"
"I haven't the least idea."
And Cynthia bridled with curiosity on her own account as well as Aunt
Betsey's. She thought something interesting must be coming.
"Well, now, to think of my being the one to tell you something about
your own family! I don't know whether I ought to, but I think it must be
true, and you'll hear it in other ways soon enough. You know I have
relatives in Albany, where she lives."
"Where who lives?"
"Miss Gordon, Hester Gordon. They say--but, of course, I don't know that
it's true, it may be just report, but they do say-- I don't know whether
I ought to tell you, I declare! that it won't be long before she's Mrs.
Franklin."
"Mrs. Franklin!"
"Yes, Mrs. John Franklin. Hasn't your nephew told you? Well, well, these
men! They do beat all for keeping things quiet."
"Is it true?"
It was Cynthia's natural voice that asked this question. She quite
forgot that she was supposed to be Miss Betsey Trinkett.
[Illustration: "YOUR VOICE SOUNDS SORT OF UNNATURAL, TOO," ADDED MRS.
PARKER.]
"I suppose it is. But, dear me, Miss Trinkett, don't be worried! Seems
to me you look very queer, though I can't see your face very well
through that veil, and you with your back to the light. Your voice
sounds sort of unnatural, too," added Mrs. Parker. "Let me get you some
water."
"Oh no, it is nothing," said Cynthia, who had quickly recovered herself,
and was now summoning all her energy to finish the call in a proper
manner. "You surprised me, that's all, and I never did care much for
surprises. But I think there's not much truth in that, Mrs. Parker. I
don't believe my fa--nephew is going to be married again. In fact, I'm
very sure he is not." And she nodded her head emphatically.
"Ah, my dear Miss Trinkett, you never can tell. Sometimes a man's family
is the last to hear those things. And it will be a good match, too. She
comes of an old family, and she has a great deal of money. The Gordons
are all rich."
"Do you suppose he'd care for that?" exclaimed her visitor, wrathfully.
"Well, well, one never knows! And think how much better it would be for
the children. Edith is too young to have so much care, and they say
Cynthia runs wild most of the time, just like a boy. Indeed, I call it a
very good thing. Though I must say she is a pretty brave woman to take
on herself the care of that family."
Here "Miss Betsey" suddenly darted for the door. It could be endured no
longer. Mrs. Parker bade her farewell, and then went back to tell her
daughters that Miss Trinkett was sadly changed. Though she was still so
young in appearance, she was evidently very much broken.
For some time Jack could obtain no reply to his questions, but at last
Cynthia's resolution broke down, and she burst into tears. They had
turned into a shady lane instead of going directly home, and there was
no danger of meeting any one.
"Jack, Jack!" she moaned, "I'll have to tell you. Mrs. Parker says papa
is going to be married again! What shall we do! What shall we do!"
For answer Jack indulged in a prolonged whistle.
"Isn't it the most dreadful thing you ever heard of? Jack, how shall we
ever endure it?"
"Well, it mayn't be as bad as you think. If she's nice--"
"Oh, Jack, she won't be! Stepmothers are never nice. I never in my life
heard of one that was. She'll be horrid to us all."
"Oh, I say, that's nonsense. If you were to marry a widower with a lot
of children you'd be nice to them."
"Jack, the very idea! _I_ marry a widower with a lot of children! I'd
like to see myself doing such a thing!"
Cynthia almost forgot her present troubles in her wrath at her brother's
suggestion.
"Well, after all it may not be true. Because Mrs. Parker says so,
doesn't prove it. Where did she hear it?"
"From some of her Albany relations, I suppose. The--the lady lives
there. But, oh, Jack! Do you think there is any chance of its not being
true?" cried Cynthia, catching at the least straw of hope.
"Why, of course! Father hasn't told us, and you can't believe all the
gossip you hear," said Jack, loftily.
"Perhaps it isn't true, after all," exclaimed Cynthia, drying her eyes
and smiling once more, "and I've been boo-hooing all for nothing! I
sha'n't say a word about it to Edith, and don't you either, Jack. It
isn't worth while to worry her, and Mrs. Parker is a terrible gossip."
They went home, and Cynthia gave her sister a gay account of her visit,
carefully omitting all exciting items, and then she helped Edith put
away some of the things, and finally was free to go on the river in the
afternoon. Jack, boylike, had forgotten all about Mrs. Parker's news. He
did not believe it, and therefore it was not worth thinking of. But
Cynthia's mind was not so easily diverted. She did not believe it,
either, but then it might be true, and if it were, what was to be done?
It seemed as if a worse calamity could not happen.
Jack, her usual companion on the river, was busy with some carpentry. He
was making a "brooder" like one he had bought, to serve as a home for
the little chicks when they should be hatched. He used the "barn
chamber" for a workshop, and the sound of his saw and his hammer could
be heard through the open window.
Cynthia was deeply interested in poultry-raising, but she wished it did
not consume so much of her brother's time and attention.
Edith was going to the village to an afternoon tea at the Morgans'.
Gertrude Morgan was her most intimate friend, and all the nicest girls
and boys would be there to talk over a tennis tournament. Cynthia was
rather sorry that she had not been asked. She said to herself that she
would be of more value in the discussion than Edith, for she really
played tennis, while Edith merely stood about looking graceful and
pretty. However, she had not been invited, and, after all, the river was
more fun than any afternoon tea.
One of the men put the canoe in the water for her, and, with a huge
stone to act as ballast, she paddled up stream, browsing along the banks
looking for wild flowers, or steering her way through the rocks, of
which the river was very full just at this point.
Cynthia, fond as she was of companionship, being of an extremely
sociable disposition, was never lonely on her beloved river.
Edith dressed herself carefully and drove off to the tea. She looked
very attractive in her spring gown of gray and her large black hat, and
as she studied herself in the small old-fashioned mirror that hung in
her room she felt quite pleased with her appearance.
"If I only had more nice gloves I should be satisfied," she thought. "It
is so horrid to be saving up one pair, and having to wear such old
things for driving and whisk them off just before I get to a place and
put on the good ones. And a handsome parasol would be so nice. I don't
think I'll take this old thing. I don't really need one to-day. I wonder
where the children are. I ought to look them up, I suppose, but they are
all right, somewhere, and it is getting late. After all, why should I
always be the one to run after those children?"
And then she drove away to Brenton, leaving housekeeping cares behind
her, and prepared for a pleasant afternoon.
About half a dozen boys and girls had already arrived at the Morgans'
when Edith drove in. It was a fine old house standing far back from the
road, and surrounded with shady grounds. The river was at the back. A
smooth and well-kept tennis-court was on the left of the drive as one
approached the house, and here the guests were assembled.
"Oh, here's Edith Franklin at last!" cried Gertrude Morgan, while her
brother went forward, and, after helping Edith to alight, took her horse
and drove down to the stable.
Presently all the tongues were buzzing, each one suggesting what he or
she considered the very best plan for holding a tournament. It was
finally arranged to have it at the tennis club rather than at the
Morgans', as had at first been thought best, and it would be open to all
the comers who had reached the age of fourteen.
"That is very young," said Gertrude, "but we really ought to have it
open to Cynthia Franklin. She is one of the best players in Brenton."
"By all means," said her brother, who was always on the side of the
Franklins, "and, Edith, you'll play with me, won't you, in mixed
doubles?"
"Oh, I don't play well enough!" exclaimed Edith. "Thank you ever so
much, Dennis, but you had better ask some one else. I don't think I'll
play."
Every one objected to this, but it was finally settled that Edith should
act as one of the hostesses for the important occasion, which was
greatly to her satisfaction. She rather enjoyed moving slowly and
gracefully about, pouring tea and lemonade, and handing it to the poor,
heated players, who were obliged to work so hard for their fun.
They were startled by the sound of the clock on the church across the
road. It struck six, and Edith rose in haste.
"I must go," she said. "I had no idea it was so late! Those children
have probably gotten into all kinds of mischief while I've been away,
and papa will not be home until late, so I am not to wait in the village
for him."
The others looked after her as she drove away.
"Isn't she the sweetest, dearest girl?" cried Gertrude. "And won't it be
hard for her if her father marries again, as every one says he is going
to do? But, after all, it may be a good thing, for then Edith wouldn't
have to do so much for the children. I wonder if she knows about it?
She hasn't breathed a word of it, even to me."
Janet and Willy, the inseparable but ever-fighting pair, came in at the
side door, not very long after Edith went to the village. They found the
house empty and the coast clear, and their active brains immediately set
to work to solve the question of what mischief they could do.
They wandered into the big silent kitchen. The servants were upstairs,
and beyond the buzzing of a fly on the window-pane and the singing of
the kettle on the range perfect quiet reigned.
"Let's go down and see the inkerbaker," suggested Willy.
"All right," returned Janet, affably, and down they pattered as fast as
their sturdy little legs could carry them.
They peered in through the glass front at the eggs, which lay so
peacefully within.
"It must be turrible stupid in there," said Janet, pityingly. "Shouldn't
you think those chickens would be tired of waiting to come out?"
"Yes. We might crack a lot and help 'em out."
"Oh, no. Jack says they won't be ready for two days. But I'll tell you
what we might do. We might see whether it's hot enough for 'em in there.
I guess Jack's forgotten all about 'em. I don't believe he's been near
'em to-day, nor Martha, either."
"How d'yer find out whever it's hot enough?"
"I don't know. Guess you open the door, and put your hand in and feel."
For Janet had never been taught the significance of the thermometer
inside, and knew nothing of the proper means of ventilating the machine.
No sooner said than done. One of the doors was promptly opened, and two
fat hands were thrust into the chamber.
"My goodies, it's hot there!" cried Janet. "We ought to cool it off.
Let's leave the door open and turn down the lamp, and open the cellar
window."
Mounted on an old barrel, Janet, at the risk of her life, struggled in
vain with the window. She chose one that was never used, and it refused
to respond to her efforts. Then she descended, and returned to the
incubator.
"Can't do it," she said. "But I'll tell you what we'll do."
"What?" asked the ever-ready Willy.
"Pour some ice water over 'em. That'll cool 'em nicely."
They travelled up the cellar stairs to the "cooler," which stood in the
hall.
"Wish we had a pitcher," said Janet. "You take the tum'ler, and I'll get
a dipper."
It required several journeys to and fro to sufficiently cool the eggs,
according to their way of thinking, but at last it was accomplished,
with much dripping of water and splashing of clean clothes.
The water-cooler was left empty, and the incubator was in a state of
dampness alarming to behold.
"There; I guess it's cool enough now!" said Janet, when the last trip
had been taken.
Alas, the mercury, which should have remained at 103 deg., had dropped
quietly down to 70 deg..
"I'd like to see what's in those eggs," said Willy, meditatively. "D'yer
s'pose they're chickies yet?"
"I guess so. I'd like to see, too. I'll tell you what, Willy? Let's take
one, and carry it off and see."
"All right. I'll be the one to take it. What'll Jack say?"
"He won't mind. Just one egg, and he has such a lot. And we've been
helping him lots this afternoon, cooling 'em off so nicely. But I'll be
the one to take it."
"No, me!"
"Let's both do it," said Janet, for once anxious to avoid a quarrel. "I
speak for that big one over there," and she abstracted one from the
"thermometer row," the row that was most important and precious in the
eyes of the owner of the machine.
"And I'll take dis one. It's awful heavy, and I guess de dear little
chicken'll he glad to get out and have some nice fresh air."
"Let's go down behind the carriage-house and look at 'em."
They fastened the door of the incubator, and departed with their
treasures.
Half an hour later, Jack, having finished his work, came whistling into
the house. He would go down and have a look at the machine, and then
walk up the river-bank to meet Cynthia, whom he had seen as she paddled
off early in the afternoon.
His first glance at the thermometer gave him a shock--75 deg. it registered.
What had happened? He looked at the lamp which heated the chambers, and
found that it had been turned down very low. What could Martha have been
thinking of, when he told her it was so important to keep up the
temperature this last day or so? The day after to-morrow he expected the
hatching to begin, and he had closed the door of the incubator that
morning. It was not to be opened again until the chicks were out.
Jack was on tiptoe with excitement. If they came out well, what a
triumph it would be! If they failed, what would his father say?
He looked again, and a most unexpected sight met his eyes. Water was
dripping from the trays, and the fine gravel beneath had become mud.
And there was a vacant space in the tray. An egg had gone--and it was
from the third row, the row which he had been so careful about, which
contained the best eggs.
And, yes, surely there was another hole. Another egg gone! What could
have happened?
He ran up stairs three steps at a time, shouting for Martha.
"What have you been doing, Martha?" he cried. "Two eggs are gone, and
the thermometer way below 80 deg., and all that water!"
"Sure, Mr. Jack, I haven't been there at all! You were at home yourself
to-day, and I never go near the place of a Saturday."
"Well, some one has been at it. Where's Cynthia? Where's Edith? Why
isn't somebody at home to attend to things?"
No one could be found. Jack rushed frantically about, and at last heard
the sound of wheels. Edith was returning from the tea. And at the same
moment, around the corner of the house came Cynthia, leading two crying
children.
They all met on the front porch.
"They've been up to mischief, Jack," said Cynthia; "I hope they haven't
done much harm. I found them on the bank behind the carriage-house. They
must have been at the incubator, for they had two eggs and the chickens
are dead. And they are two bad, naughty children!"
Even Cynthia the peacemaker had been stirred to righteous wrath by the
sight on the river-bank.
"You rascals!" cried Jack, in a fury, shaking them each in turn; "I'd
like to lick you to pieces! You've ruined the whole hatch."
"Go straight to bed," said Edith, sternly; "you are the very worst
children I ever knew. I ought not to leave the house a minute. You can't
be trusted at all."
They all went in, scolding, storming, and crying. In the midst of the
confusion Mr. Franklin arrived, earlier than he had been expected. It
was some minutes before he could understand the meaning of the uproar.
He looked about from one to the other.
"It only serves to justify me in a conclusion that I have reached," he
said. "You are all too young to be without some one to look after you.
Take the children to bed, Edith, and then come to me. I have something
to tell you."
Edith, wondering, did as she was told. Cynthia gave Jack one despairing
look and fled from the room. Her worst fears were on the point of being
realized.
And after tea, when they were sitting as usual in the long parlor, Mr.
Franklin, with some hesitation and much embarrassment, informed them
that he was engaged to be married to Miss Hester Gordon, of Albany.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration: TWO FAIRY SPONGES]
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON.
[Illustration: Decorative T]
he pretty works of my fairy and his companions in mischief are seen on
every hand from spring until winter, but few of us have ever seen the
fay, for Puck is no myth nor Ariel a creature of the poet's fancy. Their
prototype existed in entomological entity and demoralizing
mischievousness ages before the traditional fay, in diminutive human
form, had been dreamt of. The quaint bow-legged little "brownies" which
have brought our entire land beneath the witching spell of their
drollery can scarce claim prestige in the ingenuity of their mischief,
nor can the droll doings of imps and elves chronicled in the folk-lore
of many an ancient people begin to match the actual doings of the real,
live, busy little fairy whose works abound in meadow, wood, and copse,
and which any of us may discover if we can once be brought to realize
that our imp is visible. Then we must not forget that ideal type of the
true "fairy"--a paragon of beauty and goodness, with golden hair and
dazzling crown of brilliants, with her airy costume of gossamer begemmed
and spangled, her dainty twinkling feet and gorgeously painted butterfly
wings. And we all remember that wonderful wand which she carried so
gracefully, and whose simple touch could evoke such a train of
surprising consequences.
And who shall say that our pretty fay is a myth, or her magic wand a
wild creation of the fancy? May we not see the wonder-workings of that
potent wand on every hand, even though our fairy has eluded us while she
cast the spell? There are a host of these wee fairies continually
flitting about among the trees plotting all sorts of mischief, and
leaving an astonishing witness of their visitation in their trail as
they pass from leaf to leaf or twig to twig. But these fairies, like
those of Grimm and Laboulaye, are agile little atoms, and are not to be
caught in their pranks if they know it, and even though our eye chanced
to rest on one of them, it is doubtful whether we would recognize him,
so different is the guise of these _real_ fairies from those invented
Creatures of the books. Once, when a mere boy, I caught one of the
little imps at work, and watched her for several minutes without
dreaming that I had been looking at a real fairy all this time. What did
I see? I was sitting in a clearing, partly in the shade of a sapling
growth of oak which sprang from the trunk of a felled tree. While thus
half reclining I noticed a diminutive black wasplike insect upon one of
the oak leaves close to my face.
The insect seemed almost stationary and not inclined to resent my
intrusion, so I observed her closely. I soon discovered that she was
inserting her sting into the midstem of the leaf, or, perhaps,
withdrawing it therefrom, for in a few moments the midge flew away. I
remember wondering what the insect was trying to do, and not until years
later did I realize that I had been witnessing the secret arts of the
magician of the insect world--a very Puck or Ariel, as I have said--a
fairy with a magic wand which any sprite in elfindom might covet.
The wand of Hermann never wrought such a wonder as did this magic touch
of the little black fly upon the oak leaf. Had I chanced to visit the
spot a few weeks later, what a beautiful red-cheeked apple could I have
plucked from that hemstitched leaf!
This was but one of a veritable swarm of mischief-making midges
everywhere flitting among the trees; and while they are quite as various
in their shapes as the traditional forms of fairies--the ouphes and
imps, the gnomes and elves of quaintest mien, as well as the dainty fays
and sylphs and sprites--there is one feature common to them all which
annihilates the ideal of all the pictorial authorities on fairydom.
Neither Grimm, nor Laboulaye, nor any of the masters of fairy lore seems
to have discovered that a fairy has no right to those butterfly wings
which the pages of books show us. Those of the real fairy are quite
different, being narrow and glassy, and bear the magician's peculiar
sign in their crisscross veins.
What a world of mischief is going on here in the fields! Here is one of
the witching sprites among the drooping blossoms of the oak. "You would
fain be an acorn," she says, as she pierces the tender blossoms with her
wand, "but I charge thee bring forth a string of currants"; and
immediately the blossoms begin to obey the behest, and erelong a mimic
string of currants droops upon the stem. Upon another tender branch near
by a jet-black gauze-winged elf is casting a similar spell, which is
this time followed by a tiny downy pink-cheeked peach. And here alights
a tiny sprite, whose magic touch evokes even from the _same_ leaf a
cherry, or a coral bead, perhaps a huge green apple! How many of us have
seen the little elf that spends her life among the tangles of creeping
cinque-foil, and decks its stems with those brilliant scarlet beads
which we may always find upon them, looking verily like tempting
berries.
[Illustration: THE INHABITED ROSE SPONGE.]
We see here about us swarms of these busy elves in obedience to their
own peculiar mischievous promptings. What whispers this glittering midge
to the oak twig here to which she clings so closely? We may not guess;
but if we pass this way a month or so hence what a beautiful response in
the glistening rosy-clouded sponge which encircles the stem! "But this
sponge is not pretty enough by half," exclaims a rival fairy. "Wait
until you see what yonder sweet-brier rose will do for _me_." Hovering
thither among its thorns she imparts her spell, and, lo! within a month
the stem is clothed in emerald fringe, which grows apace, until it has
become a dense pompon of deep crimson--a sponge worthy the toilet of the
fairy queen herself!
[Illustration: THE ELFIN SPONGE OF THE BRIER ROSE.]
[Illustration: THE ELFIN SPONGE OF THE OAK.]
Who shall still say that the fairy is a myth! These two fairy sponges
are familiar to us all, at least to those of us who dwell for even a
small part of the year in the country and use our eyes. Indeed, we need
go no further than our city parks, or even our "back-yard" gardens to
find at least one of them, for the sweet-brier is rarely neglected by
this particular fairy.
So many specimens of both of these sponges have been sent to me by ROUND
TABLE correspondents and others, that I have begun to wonder how many of
those other young people who have seen them and kept silence have
wondered at their secret.
[Illustration: THE ROSE MISCHIEF-MAKER.]
The two fairies which are responsible for these sponges have been
captured by the inquisitive scientist, and have had their portraits
taken for the rogues' gallery, and now we see them stuck upon tiny
little three-cornered pieces of paper, and pinned in the specimen case
as mere _insects_--gall-flies. The one is labelled _Cynips seminator_,
the other, _Cynips rosae_.
[Illustration: THE FAIRY USING HER MAGIC WAND.]
And now the prosaic entomologist proceeds to supplant fact for fancy.
This gall-fly is a sort of cousin to the wasps, but what we would call
its sting is more than a mere sting. Like a sting, it seems to puncture
the bark or leaf, and at the same time probably to inject its drop of
venom; but at the same time it conveys to the depths of the wound a tiny
egg, or perhaps a host of them. One gall-fly is thus a magician in
chemistry, at least, for no sooner are these eggs deposited than the
wounded branch begins to swell and form a cellular growth or tumor about
them, the character of this abnormal growth depending upon the peculiar
charm of the venomous touch--to one a tiny coral globe, to another a
cluster of spines, to another a curved horn, and to our cynips of the
white or scrub oak a peculiar globular spongy growth which completely
envelops the stem, sometimes to the size of a small apple. In its prime
it is a beautiful object, with its fibrous glistening texture studded
with pink points. But this condition lasts but a few days, when the
entire mass becomes brownish and woolly, which fact has given this
insect the common name of "wool-sower."
[Illustration: THE REAL FAIRY OF THE OAK SPONGE.
A. One of the points detached. B. Section of the base.
C, D. Cynips emerging.]
And now we must lose no time if we would follow its history to its
complete cycle. If we put one of these faded sponges in a tight-closed
box, we shall in a few days learn the secret of its being. For this
singular mimic fruit, which has sprung at the behest of the gall-fly,
like other fruits, has its seeds--seeds which are animated with peculiar
life, and which sprout in a way we would hardly expect. Within a
fortnight after gathering, perhaps, we find our box swarming with tiny
black flies, while if we dissect the sponge we find its long-beaked
seeds entirely empty, and each with a clean round hole gnawed through
its shell, explaining this host of gall-flies, all similar to the parent
of a few weeks since, and all bent on the same mischief when you shall
let them loose at the window.
The beautiful sponge of the sweet-brier has been called into being by
exactly similar means. And its hard woody centre is packed full of
cells, at first each with its tiny egg, and then with its plump larva,
followed by the chrysalis, and at length by the emergence of the
full-fledged _Cynips rosae_.
This sponge-gall of the rose is commonly known as the Bedegnar, and like
all other members of its tribe, as with the familiar oak-apple, was long
supposed to be a regular accessory fruit of its parent stalk. Among
early students were many superstitions connected with the Bedegnar, the
nature of which may readily be inferred from its other common name of
"Robin's Pin-cushion."
[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.
A LIST OF DON'TS FOR STAMP COLLECTORS.
Don't paste your stamps into your albums, but use "stickers" or
"hinges."
Don't use any old copy-book if you can afford to buy an album. Dealers
can supply albums at any price from twenty-five cents upward.
Don't trim your stamps. Many valuable stamps have been ruined by this
process.
Don't cut envelope stamps to shape. Cut them out square, leaving a good
margin on all sides.
Don't handle your stamps any more than you can help.
Don't buy rare stamps from any but responsible dealers. Some
counterfeits resemble the genuine stamps marvellously. No one not an
expert could tell them apart.
Don't buy Chinese locals, "Seebecks," and other philatelic trash, which
is made purposely for sale to stamp collectors.
Don't expect to get something for nothing.
FRANK P. HELSEL.--The U. S. 12c. 1872 issue is worth 15 cents. The
50c. green Mauritius 1880 issue is worth 60 cents, unused; 85
cents, used. The "U.S. Post" is the 1864 issue; worth 15 cents.
W. L. L. P.--Most of the Heligoland stamps sold are reprints. They
are worth 3 cents each. Originals are worth from 15 cents to $5
each.
JAMES H. CREIGHTON.--The two stamps are the 3c. 1861 and 1872.
They are sold by stamp-dealers at 1 cent each.
J. A. M.--There is no premium on the 1872 U. S. 1c. coin.
R. F. B.--The U. S. 2c. stamp bearing a representation of a
horseman is the 1869 issue, worth 8 cents used, 25 cents unused.
J. DUFF.--The coin-dealers ask $1.50 for good copies of the 1877
trade dollar. There are several varieties of the 1801 and 1797
copper cents worth from 25 cents to $3 each, according to
condition. There is no premium on the Canadian coin.
G. G. BEATTIE.--Write to any stamp-dealer whose address you find
in our advertising columns. We cannot give addresses in this
Department. The German coin mentioned has no premium.
HARRY RILEY, Brunswick, Maine, wants to correspond with some
members of the ROUND TABLE living in Central or South America.
Most of the Hamburg stamps in albums are reprints. When the word
"cancelled" is printed on a stamp it cannot be used for postage.
It is simply a "specimen" or fac-simile. The Hong-Kong stamps
mentioned by you have not yet been catalogued.
G. KNAUFF.--Many thanks for calling my attention to the three
varieties of the present 2c. U. S. (1) The variety in which the
horizontal lines run across the triangular ornaments in uniform
thickness. (2) That in which the horizontal lines between the
outer and inner lines of the ornaments are deepened. (3) That in
which the lines are entirely missing between the outer and inner
lines of the ornaments. All three were known, and in addition
there is the variety showing a flaw in the forehead. This is
sometimes found strongly marked; in others it is more or less
distinct. I advise philatelists to collect all these varieties, as
well as all the shades of color, which are almost innumerable.
LAURA WELCH.--Both the stamp and the embossed envelope were used
by the War Department for several years. This use has been
discontinued many years. The stamp is worth 5 cents, the 1c.
envelope, if on white paper, is worth $2.50, if on amber paper
$35, if on manila paper 5 cents
L. P. DODGE.--The stamp you describe is one of the German locals
which are not collected in this country. There are many
counterfeits of the New Orleans Confederate local. It is
impossible to say whether your copy is genuine or counterfeit
without examination.
H. R. C.--The present blue Special Delivery is collected as a new
variety. The Sedang stamps are worthless. Your complaint will be
investigated if you will send the Stamp Editor your full name and
address.
F. E. WELSH, JUN.--"Regular" perforations cut out little circles
of white paper between each stamp on the sheet. "Pin" perforations
are simply holes punched into the spaces between the stamps
without removing the little circles of white paper. Saw-tooth
perforations are simply cuts into the spaces between the stamps
somewhat like this--v v v v v v. When the stamps are torn apart
the margins look just like the teeth on a saw. The Columbian
stamps are rapidly advancing in value. The 8c. Sherman has dropped
in value during the past year from 4 cents to a 1/2 cent each.
JAMES F. ANDERSON.--The stamp you describe is the New Orleans
local. It is worth at least $1.50.
A. W. DUNCAN.--The 1830 half-dollar is not at a premium.
R. B. H.--The 3c. green U.S. is worth 1 cent.
F. LOCKE.--The 1853 dime is worth face value only.
GEO. H.--We cannot answer questions regarding dealers in this
column.
B. W. LEAVITT.--The 50c. revenue-stamps mentioned are sold by
dealers at 2 cents each.
C. C. COONER.--The 1c. blue 1861 is worth 3 cents; the others are
worth 1 cent each.
PHILATUS.
THAT SLEIGHT-OF-HAND PERFORMANCE.
BY CHARLES M. SHELDON.
It had been a very dull winter at Colby, and when we college boys came
home for our Christmas vacation we determined we would liven it up for
the village.
As it happened, curiously enough, a funeral was the cause of the lively
time that followed our determination.
Old Father Colby, one of the original settlers, had died the week
before, leaving a wife and three orphaned grandchildren in the old
homestead, and, as it turned out, very destitute. So the idea occurred
to us to get up a benefit entertainment, and turn over the proceeds to
the widow Colby and her family of grandchildren.
The idea took with the neighborhood. And we at once rented the
Town-hall, and proceeded to bill the village and every barn in the
township with the notices of our performance.
There were three of us: Tom Chandler, Jonas Willitts, and myself, Peter
Samuels. We were the only village boys who had ever been to college, and
we were the envy of all the farmers' boys and the admiration of all the
village girls. So we made the most of our brief vacations to get into
public notice.
We determined to give a sleight-of-hand performance. Tom sent down to
Boston for materials, and we all practised diligently, keeping
everything as secret as if we were in a conspiracy against the United
States.
Our announcements, which were scattered all over the township, were
certainly very attractive. They read as follows:
"Extraordinary Performance to be given at the Town-hall, Colby, December
20, 18--. Marvellous Feats of Prestidigitatorism! The Egg and the
Handkerchief! The Watch Mortar and Magic Pistol!
"The Handkerchief that will not Burn! The Pudding in the Hat! The
Inexhaustible Bottle! And Numerous other Marvels and Mysteries lately
Imported from India and the East!
"The above Unrivalled Performance will be given for only 25 cents
admission. Proceeds to be devoted to Benevolent Cause. Doors open at
7.30. Performance to begin at 8. Come early and avoid being turned away.
No reserved seats. Carriages may be ordered for ten o'clock."
We debated some over the last line on the handbills, but finally decided
to let it go in. It made the bills look more cosmopolitan and did no
harm.
Tom and Jonas were to be the principal performers. I was general ticket
agent and business and stage manager. We all had our dress suits with
us, and, of course, we wore them when the time came.
Well, that was the largest crowd that ever came to an entertainment in
Colby. There hadn't been anything going on all winter. Most of the young
people had never seen any sleight-of-hand tricks, and all the old people
turned out to help Grandma Colby. Before eight o'clock the hall was
jammed. Every seat was taken, and people crowded into the broad aisle
and sat on the platform, and stood up all around in a black fringe
against the wall.
We had rigged up a curtain in front of the narrow platform, and at eight
o'clock, when the hall was so full that no more people could get into
it, the curtain was pulled aside by Peter Samuels, the stage director,
and revealed the Magician's Home.
The first trick on the programme was "The Egg and the Handkerchief."
Jonas was behind the table acting as Tom's assistant, while I was
stationed just out of sight behind a fold of the curtain, ready to step
in at the right moment, for the trick required the use of three persons.
It was simple enough, and yet Tom's blunder at the start led to the
ridiculous accident which was the first of a series that made that
sleight-of-hand performance a thing for Colby people to reckon time
from.
The trick was, first, for Tom to produce an egg from Jonas's month by
rapping him on the back of his head, Jonas already having been provided
with a guinea-hen's egg secreted in his mouth for the purpose. Then,
when the egg appeared, Tom was to pretend to place it in a handkerchief,
really substituting for it a china egg of the same size, and slipping
the real egg into a little pochette of his dress-coat. What he did,
however, was to drop the real egg into the handkerchief, because, as he
afterwards said, the china egg stuck in his pochette, and he could not
get it out. The next part of the trick was to gather up the four corners
of the handkerchief and whirl it around rapidly, saying, "Ladies and
gentlemen, keep your eyes on my assistant yonder." At that point I
stepped out, holding on a plate a very nice-looking sponge-cake
previously prepared. Then Tom was to say: "I will now cause the egg in
the handkerchief to pass into the cake. Watch closely, ladies and
gentlemen."
At that point Tom should have brought the handkerchief around in such a
way as to slip the china egg out into his other hand. Then I was to come
forward and cut open the cake, displaying an egg (also china),
previously placed within. And then Tom was to have produced the real
egg, and in order to prove that it was a real egg within the cake
(exchanging the two by palming one of them), he was to break the real
one into a dish.
All this, which sounds so complex to describe, was simple enough as we
had rehearsed it, and even with Tom's blunder of dropping the real egg
in the handkerchief, might have turned out all right if he had not let
go one of the corners of the handkerchief as he whirled it around his
head. I, Peter Samuels, stage manager and director of that extraordinary
performance of "Marvellous Feats of Prestidigitatorism," will never
forget my sensations when, as I advanced solemnly with the cake, a white
body whizzed through the air and struck me full on my expansive shirt
bosom, breaking with a splash, and running down over my vest and
trousers in a yellow stream.
I remember the scared look on Jonas's face, the perfectly horrified
expression that Tom wore, and also remember dimly wondering if a
guinea-fowl's egg would make as large an omlet as that of an ostrich.
For it seemed to me as if I was swimming in egg batter.
The next instant the audience broke into a perfect roar of laughter. I
threw the cake down on the table and rushed back of the curtain again,
leaving Tom and Jonas to get out of the blunder as best they could,
while I wiped off the egg as best I could with my handkerchief.
How that audience did roar! Tom stood with a knife in his hand waiting
to cut the cake. He said afterwards he felt mad enough to jump down off
the platform and pummel half a dozen big boys on the front seat. But he
kept his temper, and when the laugh died down he cut the cake open and
showed the egg, saying something about its being a small-sized egg on
account of spilling a part of it on the way. So that mystified the
people a little and restored the reputation of the performance, at least
for a while.
The next trick was an easy one, and went off without any slip, and was
applauded. Tom and Jonas had the stage to themselves for a while, and I
staid out of sight and scrubbed at the egg. But do what I could, my
shirt bosom was ruined.
Then came the "Watch Mortar" trick, and to my dying day I shall never
forget how that turned out. Neither will Tom.
We had an apparatus made to resemble an old-fashioned druggists' mortar.
It was really made of tin, in two compartments, so that any heavy object
dropped into it would depress a false bottom and drop through on a shelf
back of the magician's table, at the same time letting into the upper
part of the mortar the fragments of an old watch previously pounded into
bits. Then Tom was to pretend to smash the borrowed watch, and
afterwards fire a pistol at me and take the real watch from my vest
pocket, where he would place it when he went back of the scenes for his
pistol.
He described his intentions and asked for a watch from the audience.
Uncle Job Cavendish, the village barber, handed up an old silver-case
time-piece that was worth perhaps $3.
Tom took it, and after a good deal of talk, dropped it down into the
mortar, picked up the ridiculous club used for a pestle, and began to
pound away. There was a great smashing sound, and poor Uncle Job looked
serious. But he did not begin to look half so serious as Tom did, and I
saw in a minute that something was wrong.
He dropped the pestle, and said hurriedly to the audience, "Ladies and
gentlemen, I find I have left my pistol in the other room. Excuse me
while I run after it."
Then Tom came into the wing where I stood, and jerking his own gold
watch out of his pocket, thrust it into mine, and whispered to me
fiercely, "That mortar stuck in some way, and I smashed Uncle Job's
watch into chicken-feed! Here is mine! I'll have to give him something
back, or we'll be mobbed out of the village!"
Then he grabbed up the stage pistol and hurried back. He rammed the
remains of Uncle Job's poor watch down the big mouth of the pistol, and
I stepped forth, baring my egg-stained bosom to the pistol shot. Bang!
went the powder from the false chamber of the pistol, and Tom, with a
ghastly smile, stepped up to me and pulled his watch out of my pocket,
and with the utmost courage leaned out over the edge of the platform and
handed the watch to Uncle Job, saying, "Here you are, sir! Not only as
good as new, but changed from silver to gold!"
Uncle Job was so taken by surprise that he sat with open mouth. He took
the watch and looked at it in dumb astonishment. The audience was taken
as much by surprise as he was.
Tom and Jonas held a hurried consultation, and at once announced the
next trick. There was a great deal of confusion in the hall. Several
voices shouted out, "Show the silver watch!" Tom paid no attention, and
the next half-dozen tricks were so well done that the people applauded,
and we began to gain fresh courage.
But alas! The next on the programme was the "Handkerchief that will not
burn."
Almost any one with a little practice can pass a handkerchief obliquely
through the flame of a candle without burning it. All that is needed is
the proper dexterity. And this caution must be heeded. The handkerchief
must be free from cologne or perfumery, which contains spirits, and is
very inflammable.
This was Jonas's trick. He called for a lady's handkerchief, and who
should hand one up but Sally Conners, the prettiest girl in the village,
and the one of all with whom Jonas was smitten.
But to the grief of Jonas, Sally was very much addicted to perfumery,
and had that evening drenched her handkerchief with it. Jonas lighted
the candle, keeping up a running talk about making the handkerchief
enchanted, and then he passed it through the flame.
The effect could not have been more certain if he had poured kerosene on
the candle. Poor Sally's delicate perfume-drenched handkerchief blazed
up in an instant like a display of fireworks. Jonas squeezed his hands
around the fragments that were left, and danced around the stage,
howling at the sudden pain of the burn. And the audience went wild. I
thought it never would stop laughing. Tom was desperate. I could see he
meant to conclude the performance before we had ruined our reputations
forever.
With becoming modesty he addressed himself to the audience when it had
tired of laughing, and announced that the entertainment would close with
the startling trick, "The pudding in the hat."
He and Jonas had practised this until they felt sure of it. Like all
sleight-of-hand tricks, it is easy enough if properly done.
First Jonas prepared a dish of batter made of eggs broken in, shells and
all, a little flour, milk, raisins, and molasses. A ridiculous mixture,
from which, he assured the audience, would come forth a beautiful
pudding, nicely baked in a stovepipe hat, which he would wear on his own
head to prove that there was nothing in it. A sentence which had a
double meaning, and to which Jonas fully assented in every particular
before the evening was over.
Well, the dish that held the batter was poured into the hat, apparently.
Of course it was really poured into a tin which exactly fitted into the
hat, and which contained also a second tin concealing the pudding,
tipped into it by Tom at the proper moment. Then the next part of the
trick consisted in placing the hat on Jonas's head, while he was to
strut about the stage jauntily. Then the hat would be removed, and lo!
in the centre of it would be found the pudding nicely baked.
[Illustration: THEN THE WHOLE HAT SEEMED TO LET GO LIKE A BROKEN
RESERVOIR.]
Now, whether Tom made some mistake in getting those tins canted into the
hat properly or not will never be known. Perhaps he pulled the hat down
too hard over Jonas's brows when he put it on him, and so loosened
something. At any rate, Jonas had not taken two steps before a streak of
batter was seen running down over his face. Then the whole hat seemed to
let go like a broken reservoir, and the milk and molasses and egg and
flour streamed down in a shower over the miserable Jonas.
He tried to pull the hat off, and did so, leaving on his head, however,
the tins, which gave him the most astonishing appearance possible. Tom
fell back on the table in an agony of laughter, and in doing so sat down
on the dish that had contained the batter. The audience simply cried
itself hoarse with laughter. Sally Conners screamed with all her might,
and all the farmers' boys, who were present for miles around, haw-hawed,
and the old folks almost died looking at poor Jonas. In the midst of it
all, I, Peter Samuels, stage director, drew the curtain, and with the
other two performers stole down the back stairs, and made a run for
home, and so the great sleight-of-hand performance came to an end.
The Colby people never forgot that performance. We never did, either.
Uncle Job kept Tom's watch until he left for college, and then gave it
back to him, and Tom bought him a new silver time-piece. The widow Colby
and her grandchildren realized a good sum from the entertainment, and
the next vacation we three boys spent in the city. I am afraid Jonas has
lost the favor of Sally Conners, for she never can speak of him without
laughing. But then Sally always did laugh on almost any provocation.
[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]
So far as is known, no schedule of interscholastic track and field
records has ever before been printed, and although the table published
in this issue is as accurate as can be made under the circumstances,
still there are doubtless a few errors scattered around in it somewhere
that will be discovered by sharp-eyed readers in the very near future.
If the latter will inform this Department of the mistakes as soon as
they are found out, the table may be depended upon to be absolutely
exact the next time it is printed--and it certainly will be offered in
better form. To-day I have been obliged to put two bicycle events and
two hammer and shot events on the list, because the interscholastic
associations in the various parts of the country are about evenly
divided in the choice of distances and the use of weights. I have left
out entirely such acrobatic events as the hop, step, and jump, and
throwing the baseball, because they are not athletic, and do not deserve
to be recognized on any interscholastic programme. Perhaps a year from
now the school associations will have come to the conclusion that, take
it all in all, it is really better to have a uniform measure of
efficiency in sport as well as in anything else, and then a comparative
table will be of more value.
INTERSCHOLASTIC RECORDS OF THE UNITED STATES, 1895.
Event. Record. Maker.
100-yard dash 10-1/5 sec. F. H. Bigelow.
220-yard run 22-2/5 " F. H. Bigelow.
440-yard run 50-3/5 " T. E. Burke.
Half-mile inn 2 m. 4-1/5 " J. A. Meehan.
Mile run 4 " 34-2/5 " W. T. Laing.
Mile walk 7 " 17-3/5 " A. N. Butler.
120-yard hurdle 15-3/5 " A. F. Beers.
220-yard hurdle 26-1/2 " Field.
Mile bicycle 2 " 34-1/5 " I. A. Powell.
Two-mile bicycle 5 " 18-2/5 " Baker.
Running high jump 5 ft. 11 in. S. A. W. Baltazzi.
Running broad jump 21 " 6 " C. Brewer.
Pole vault 10 " 7 " B. Johnson.
Throwing 12-lb. hammer 125 " R. F. Johnson.
Throwing 16-lb. hammer 111 " 10 " F. G. Beck.
Putting 12-lb. shot 40 " 3/4 " A. C. Ayres.
Putting 16-lb. shot 39 " 3 " M. O'Brien.
Event. School.
100-yard dash Worcester H.-S.
220-yard run Worcester H.-S.
440-yard run Boston English H.-S.
Half-mile inn Condon, N.Y.
Mile run Phillips Academy, Andover.
Mile walk Hillhouse H.-S., New Haven.
120-yard hurdle De La Salle, N.Y.
220-yard hurdle Hartford H.-S.
Mile bicycle Cutler, N.Y.
Two-mile bicycle Hotchkiss, Lakeville, Conn.
Running high jump Harvard, N.Y.
Running broad jump Hopkinson, Boston.
Pole vault Worcester Academy.
Throwing 12-lb. hammer Brookline H.-S.
Throwing 16-lb. hammer Hillhouse H.-S.
Putting 12-lb. shot Condon, N.Y.
Putting 16-lb. shot Boston English H.-S.
Event. Time and place.
100-yard dash N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1894.
220-yard run N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1894.
440-yard run N.E.I S.A.A. games, 1894.
Half-mile inn N.Y.I.S.A.A. games, May 11, 1895.
Mile run N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1894
Mile walk Conn. H.-S.A.A. games, June 8, 1895
120-yard hurdle N.Y.I.S.A.A. games, May 11, 1895.
220-yard hurdle Conn. H.-S.A.A. games, June 8, 1895.
Mile bicycle N.Y.I.S.A.A. games, May 11, 1895.
Two-mile bicycle Conn. H.-S.A.A. games, June 8, 1895.
Running high jump N.Y.I.S.A.A. games, May 11, 1895.
Running broad jump N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1890.
Pole vault N.E.I.S.A.A. games, June 15, 1895.
Throwing 12-lb. hammer N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1894.
Throwing 16-lb. hammer Conn. H.-S.A.A. games, June 8, 1895.
Putting 12-lb. shot N.Y.I.S.A.A. games, May 11, 1895.
Putting 16-lb. shot N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1894.
INTER-COLLEGIATE RECORDS OF THE UNITED STATES, 1895.
Event. Record. Made by.
{ E. J. Wendell, Harvard; W.
{ Baker, Harvard; C. H.
100-yard dash 10 sec. { Sherrill, Yale; L. Cary,
{ Princeton; E. S. Ramsdell,
{ Penn.
220-yard dash 21-4/5 " L. H. Cary, Princeton.
Quarter-mile run 47-3/4 " W. Baker, Harvard.
Half-mile run 1 m. 55-1/4 " W. C. Dohm, Princeton.
Mile run 4 " 23-2/5 " G. W. Orton, Penn.
Mile walk 6 " 42-4/5 " F. A. Borcheling, Princeton.
120-yard hurdle 15-4/5 " H. L. Williams, Yale.
220-yard hurdle 24-3/5 " J. L. Bremer, Harvard.
Two-mile bicycle 4 " 10 " W. D. Osgood, Penn.
Running high jump 6 ft. 4 in. W. B. Page, Penn.
Running broad jump 23 " L. P. Sheldon, Yale.
Pole vault 11 " 2-3/4 " C. T. Buckholz, Penn.
Throwing 16-lb. ham'r 135 " 7-1/2 " W. O. Hickok, Yale.
Putting 16-lb. shot 44 " 1-1/2 " W. O. Hickok, Yale.
How is it possible to gauge the performances of school champions with
those of others--college-men and athletic club amateurs--when we have no
common ratio? We cannot, of course. For instance, take Beers's record of
15-3/5 sec. in the high hurdles, made at the New York Interscholastics
last May. On paper this looks very well. It apparently beats the
inter-collegiate record made by Harry Williams in 1891, by one-fifth of
a second. But it really does not. Beers ran his race over lower hurdles,
and so it is not possible to make a comparison. The hurdles used by the
N.Y.I.S.A.A. are only 3 feet high, whereas the inter-collegiate sticks
are 3 ft. 6 in. Some of the interscholastic associations use the
standard 3 ft. 6 in. hurdles, but as it was impossible to ascertain
exactly what the records were that had been made over these at school
meetings in the past, I took the fastest time over the dwarfed hurdles,
and let it go in as a fit companion for the 12-lb. shot and hammer and
the mile bicycle-race.
In the future, however, I shall give little attention to these one-eyed
records. The college associations have set up a standard of distance and
weight which experience has shown to be a good one. A sufficient number
of interscholastic associations have adopted the same standard, thereby
making it clearly evident that it is none too high for school-boy
athletes. Therefore, in making out a comparative table of college and
school records, this Department will accept the standard established by
the I.C.A.A.A. and adopted by the majority of the interscholastic
associations. If in the near future a general interscholastic league is
formed, I feel sure that its legislators will agree with me in this, and
will adopt the same course when they lay out their programme.
It is to be regretted that the Oakland, Cal., High-School athletic team
was unable to accept the Stockton High-School's challenge for dual games
to be held on June 15th last, but unless something unforeseen turns up
the meeting will be held soon after the next school term begins, which
is in August. The California schools open about five weeks earlier than
our Eastern institutions, and the football season with them, therefore,
starts in the closing days of summer. There will also be the semi-annual
field day of the Academic Athletic League at about that time, or in
September, and bicycle road races, in which teams from the several
schools of the A.A.L. will be matched against one another. At the field
day there will be a contest for the all 'round championship of the
Pacific Coast Association. Five or six events will be selected from the
programme, and every competitor for the championship will have to
compete in each one, the champion to be the winner of the greatest
number of points.
The object of this athletic Department in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE is not
only to criticise and comment upon the various sports of the calender,
but also to explain any intricate points of these games, to answer
questions on matters of sport and athletics, and to give all such
information as shall justly come under the head of Interscholastic
Sport. A number of correspondents have requested that some space be
devoted to an explanation of the "100-up" method of scoring in tennis,
and to give the rules for odds. This "100-up" method, sometimes called
the "Pastime" system, was devised a few years ago to meet the defects of
the old system of scoring, which had been handed down to us from the
ancient English game of tennis. The latter has a good many disadvantages
in spite of its universal use, the chief objection being that it
frequently happens in a match that a player scores more strokes, or even
more games, than his antagonist, and yet is beaten. This, of course, is
manifestly unfair; and as for handicaps, in which more than two players
are competing, the complex and unsatisfactory system of adjusting the
odds according to the old way is unnecessarily complicated.
The rules for the "100-up" method are comparatively simple and very
easily remembered after having been used once or twice. The player who
serves first must serve six times in succession, and then his opponent
does the same, the service changing always after each one has served six
consecutive times. One fault and one good service; two faults; or one
good service counts as a service. After the first, third, fifth, or, in
other words, every alternate series of service, the players change
courts, thus making each six successive services one series of services.
The first player to score one hundred points wins the game; but the
match can be played for any number of points--more or less than a
hundred--as the contestants may agree upon beforehand. The usual figure,
however, is one hundred. If the score comes to be 99-all, play goes on
as before, until one of the players has a majority of two points. He
then wins; but no game can be won by a lesser majority than two points.
The odds in the regular old-fashioned method of counting are, briefly,
thus: A "bisque" is one point that can be taken by the receiver of the
odds at any time during the set except after a service is delivered, or,
if he is serving, after a fault. "Half fifteen" is one stroke given at
the beginning of the second, fourth, and every alternate game of a set,
and "fifteen" is one stroke given at the beginning of every game. In the
same way "thirty" is two strokes given at the beginning of every game,
whereas "half thirty" is one stroke given at the beginning of the first
game, two at the beginning of the second, one at the beginning of the
third, and so on, two and one, alternately, until the end of the set.
"Forty" is three strokes before every game, "half forty" three and two,
alternately, as before. "Owed odds" signifies that the giver of the odds
starts behind scratch. Thus "owe half fifteen" means that one stroke is
owed at the beginning of the first, third, fifth, and every alternate
game of the set. Other "owed odds" are reckoned inversely in the same
manner as given odds. If a player gives odds of "half court," he agrees
to play in a certain half of the court, either the right or the left,
and he loses a stroke whenever he returns a ball outside any of the
lines that bound that half court.
But the newest of all the systems of odds, and the one now most
generally used by experts, is called the "quarter" system. In this
method fifteen is divided into four quarters, and thus a closer handicap
may be obtained. "One quarter" of fifteen is one stroke given at the
beginning of the second, sixth, and every fourth game thereafter in the
set. "Two quarters" (the "half fifteen" spoken of above) is one stroke
at the beginning of the second, fourth, sixth, etc., games. "Three
quarters" is one stroke at the beginning of the second, third, fourth,
sixth, seventh, and eighth games, and so on. When it is "odds owed," as
before, "one quarter" is one stroke in the first and fifth games; "two
quarters" is one stroke in the first and third; and "three quarters" is
one stroke in the first, third, and fourth games, and so on to the end
of the set. In order to get odds at a similar ratio when the match is
being scored on the "100-up" system, the following table of equivalents
has been adopted:
1 quarter of 15 = 5 points per 100
2 quarters " 11 " "
3 " " 16 " "
15 " " 22 " "
15.1 " " 27 " "
15.2 " " 32 " "
15.3 " " 38 " "
30 " " 43 " "
30.1 " " 49 " "
30.2 " " 54 " "
30.3 " " 59 " "
40 " " 65 " "
The principal difficulty about this new system of odds, except for
experts and for those who play constantly, is the difficulty of
remembering it. It certainly takes more study to become familiar with it
than with the old half-point system. In that the odds change at every
game, and change directly back again even when most complicated, so that
really all there is to remember is which odds came with the service. The
chief advantage of the "quarter" system is that it affords greater
accuracy, and to experts this is a sufficient compensation for its
intricacy. I should not advise the average player, however, to bother
with it, for, unless he intends to try for a national championship, life
is too short to devote many hours of study to the "quarter" system.
Another correspondent asks for information as to the best way to get up
a tennis tournament, and now that we are on the subject of tennis, his
query might just as well be disposed of. A tournament, like anything
else, demands time and care in preparation if it is to be a success.
Don't put off everything until the last moment, or the day will surely
be a failure; whereas, if thought is given to all the small details that
go to make such an occasion enjoyable, everything will go as easily as
rolling off a log. In the first place, those who want to arrange a
tournament, or the committee which has been chosen to make the
arrangements, should get together and discuss the situation and decide
what they want to do and how they want to do it. In this preliminary
talk a calculation of expenses should first be made. Find out how much
money will probably be required, and then, as a measure of safety, add
about ten per cent. to that, for expenses are usually underestimated.
Having determined how much money will be needed, make arrangements for
securing that amount either by subscription, entrance fees, or sale of
tickets. If the tournament is to be conducted by a club, there will
probably be some money in the treasury that can be used. It is not
usually advisable, and seldom practicable at an impromptu summer tennis
tournament, to demand admission fees of the spectators.
The financial part of the enterprise having now been attended to, a
treasurer should be appointed to take charge of the funds, and to keep
an account of all receipts and expenditures. Of course, if, as I have
said before, the tournament is being held by a club, many of these
details are already fulfilled by previous organization. The date should
be the next thing decided. In each instance there will be many
circumstances affecting this date. If the idea of having a tournament is
being discussed with a view to holding it later in the summer, find out
what players will be in the neighborhood at that time, and try to invite
players to visit the locality at about that period. If you only have a
week or ten days in which to make your preparations (for a small
tournament), try to fix on a day when there will be nothing else of
importance going on near by. The chief object of the managers or of the
committee should be to secure as large an attendance as possible, for a
crowd will encourage the players to better effort.
The date having been settled upon, send out notices. State clearly all
the facts. Say at what place, on what date, and at what time of day the
tournament is to be held; and also under whose auspices. Give a list of
the events--such as men's singles, doubles, women's singles, mixed
doubles, or whatever there is to be; state the requirements for
entrances, and give the date when entries close. Be sure to give the
name and address of the person who has been assigned to receive these
entries. State also in the notice the hours of play, the number of sets
to the match, the kind of balls that are to be used, and announce any
special regulations that it may have been found necessary to adopt.
Finally, enumerate the prizes; but remember that it is always in better
taste to make these inexpensive and more in the nature of souvenirs of
the occasion than trophies.
The notices disposed of and sent out, the managers should now see that
the courts are rolled and otherwise put in order, so that they may be in
the best possible condition on the day set for the tournament. There
should be a plentiful supply of balls, for sometimes an entire box is
used in a match. In large tournaments I have seen the players dispose of
a box every set. At each end of the net put up a couple of chairs on
boxes for the umpires, and arrange seats about the court for the
spectators. If there are not enough chairs and benches handy, lay boards
on boxes, and so produce impromptu settees. Don't fail to hire a couple
of boys to pick up the balls.
All these details are necessary ones; there are a few others that might
be termed luxuries, such as having printed tickets and programmes, and
an awning stretched along one side of the court to shelter the ladies
from the sun. One more necessary point, however, is to secure competent
judges and umpires, otherwise something might occur during play that
would mar the pleasure of the day. Of course it would be a
misunderstanding, but this can be easily avoided by having officials
fully conversant with the game and familiar with the duties required of
them.
After all the entries have been received, make the drawings, and, if
possible, post them somewhere where all those interested in the coming
tournament will be able to see them. When, on the day set, the hour to
begin play arrives, start promptly. Delay is always fatal to the success
of any sporting event. People don't like to sit around and wait. But all
that I have said here is merely in the line of suggestion. Many little
matters crop up as soon as any enterprise of this kind is entered into,
and these questions have to be settled according to the emergency. Let
the central idea be to anticipate anything that might happen; then, as a
rule, nothing will happen.
THE GRADUATE.
[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]
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.
HOW TO CATCH CLOUDS.
7th. About
11th. this
14th. time
17th. look
21st. out
28th. for
31st. storms.
This was usually the weather warning in the old-time almanacs which the
farmer was in the habit of consulting nightly, in order to make his
plans for his haying or harvesting, his sowing or reaping, the success
of which depended on the state of the weather.
The amateur photographer who makes a specialty of landscapes should put
this warning in his note-book, substituting the word clouds for that of
storms, changing it to read, "About this time look out for clouds."
A picture of a landscape with clouds in the sky is much finer than where
the sky is perfectly white, and cloud pictures themselves are very
interesting.
It is not an easy matter to catch the clouds even when the sky is full
of them. If they are obtained in the negative, they are usually lost in
the printing, as the landscape portion of the negative, being less dense
than the sky, prints much more quickly, and to obtain a print of the
clouds the lines of the landscape would be almost black from
over-printing.
There is a device called a "cloud-catcher," which is a shutter so
arranged with adjustable disks that the foreground or landscape part of
the picture is given a time exposure, while the sky is taken
instantaneously. This is supposed to give the proper time of exposure
for each part of the picture.
The amateur cannot always afford such an attachment, and, in order to
obtain clouds in his landscapes, must resort to various devices of
developing and printing.
The most common method is to take two pictures, one exposed for the sky,
and the other for the landscape, and print from both negatives. In
printing from a "sky"-and-"landscape" negative, print the sky first,
covering the part of the sensitive paper on which the landscape is to be
printed. After printing the sky, place the other negative in the frame
and print the landscape. It does not matter if the opaque paper which
covers the landscape does not follow the horizon lines exactly, as the
darker tones of the landscape will blot out the outlines of the clouds
if they lap on the horizon.
If one has a negative where the clouds are good but will not print out
unless the rest of the picture is over-printed, a good print may be
obtained by this simple device: Take an empty tin-can a little longer
than the printing-frame. Cut off the top and bottom, and cut the can in
two the long way. This will give you a piece of rolled tin. Flatten one
edge, leaving the other curved. Attach the flat edge to the side of the
printing-frame so as to shield the landscape part of the negative. This
will make a shade for this part of the negative, which prints the
fastest, and thus retard the printing, allowing the denser portions a
longer time to print. A shaded negative should always be printed in
diffused light, not in the direct rays of the sun.
Pictures of clouds, or rather, _false_ clouds, are made by holding the
negative over the flame of a candle and letting the glass side become
covered with lamp-black. Then, with a soft tuft of cotton, wipe off the
smoke in places, leaving the outlines of clouds on the glass. Very good
clouds can be made by this method with a little practice. Another way is
to attach a piece of fine tissue-paper to the negative and sketch clouds
in the sky portion, unless the sky is very dense. A thin sky is often
improved by these sham clouds.
[Illustration: PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN THE TYROL, SHOWING CLOUD EFFECT.]
The picture which we reproduce here was taken by Sir Knight Sidney
Stearns, of Cleveland, Ohio. It was taken at Halle in the Tyrol, time
nearly sunset. The sun, as may be seen by looking at the picture, is at
the left of the camera and well toward the front. This is usually the
best direction from which the strongest light should fall, either from
the left or right and near the front of the camera. One should seldom or
never take a picture with the sun directly behind the camera.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power.--Latest U. S. Gov't Report.
[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]
[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE
WATER]
[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.
[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 final run into Albany on the road from New York, according to the
plan which we have been following--that is, of making the journey in
four days--is from Hudson to Albany, a distance of twenty-eight to
thirty miles. Leaving Hudson, which was the northernmost point reached
on last week's map, the rider goes out on to the main road by the way of
Fourth Street and Pond Road, and thence follows the telegraph poles
direct to Stockport, passing through Stottville. The road is hilly while
running from the town of Hudson, and about half-way from Stottville to
Stockport there is another rather stiff hill. The distance is a little
over five miles, and the road is poor, on the whole, owing to its
rolling nature and the fact that the road-bottom is largely clay. From
Stockport to Stuyvesant Falls it improves a little, though it is
somewhat hilly. The rider should follow the telegraph poles all the way,
and keep a sharp lookout for L.A.W. signs, which will be of great
assistance wherever they are found. This run is about three and
three-quarters or four miles, and the next stage, from Stuyvesant Falls
to Kinderhook, is four miles. There is no difficulty in following the
road, with the possible exception of an abrupt fork about one and
one-half or two miles out of Stuyvesant Falls. Here, of course, the
rider should keep to the right on the main road. From Kinderhook to Pine
Grove is a little under five miles. Keep to the left at Kinderhook after
leaving the Kinderhook Hotel, keeping always to the Albany Post Road
with the telegraph poles. Thence continue from Pine Grove to Schodack
Centre, and when you have made four and one-half miles, and crossed two
small bridges, turn to the right at Willow Trees, whence the run to
Schodack Centre is clearly marked, a distance, in all, of a little over
eight miles. From here the run to the Hudson, opposite Albany, passes
through East Greenbush, three miles away, and finally brings up at the
Hudson at South Bridge, a little less than five miles further. This last
stage of the journey is somewhat hilly again, and there is a bad descent
just before reaching Greenbush, where the rider should take the utmost
care, owing to the fact that the hill itself is bad, and the difficulty
complicated by a railroad crossing. On reaching the Hudson the rider
should cross on South Bridge, and running into Albany turn into
Broadway, thence to State Street, thence to North Pearl Street, and
finally put up at the Kenmore Hotel.
While this run from New York to Albany is in parts hilly, and while
occasionally the rider will strike a bit of difficult road, it is
nevertheless one of the best bicycle trips in the United States, not
only on account of the condition of the roads, but on account of its
picturesque and historical interest. As was said last week, any one who
intends to take the trip, or who can give the time to it, is strongly
advised to take a week to do it in, to cross the Hudson several times on
the way, and make short runs into the country on the other side. It is
possible in this way for a rider of reasonable experience to see
practically the whole of the Hudson River valley between these two
points, and to have a fine outing without doing too much "scorching,"
or, on the other hand, taking the journey too slowly. The distance from
New York to Albany, or rather from Central Park and 110th Street to the
Kenmore Hotel, is one hundred and fifty-three and three-quarter miles,
and by taking seven or eight days to the trip, the rider can easily
cover three to four hundred miles in his excursions off the main route.
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.
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in
No. 818.
[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.
I have talked to you about notes and letters in a previous number of the
paper, but some of my ROUND TABLE readers ask to have the subject
treated again, with special attention to correspondence of a ceremonious
character.
A note of invitation should be very cordial, affectionate, and explicit.
You should state clearly in such a note the day and train which you
would like your friend to take, and the length of time you expect her to
stay with you. Formerly it was regarded as inhospitable to limit in any
way the duration of a friend's visit, but we understand now that it is
more convenient and comfortable for all concerned to have the precise
number of days or weeks indicated. This arrangement enables your friends
to make other engagements, and leaves you free to invite other friends
if, as often happens, you can have the pleasure of entertaining
successive guests during a summer. Let me give you some examples.
Mary Hills wishes to ask Abby Lewis to spend a week with her at Dove's
Nest in the Catskills, Mary's country home. Her letter of invitation
might be written as follows:
DOVE'S NEST, TANNERSVILLE P.O., NEW YORK.
DEAREST ABBY,--It seems very long since I saw you. Mamma and I
were talking last night about the delightful visit we had at your
home just before the Van Blarcoms went abroad. It is very lovely
at Dove's Nest now, and we are anxious to have you see the place
while our sweet-pease and nasturtiums are in bloom. Won't you come
on Thursday, the twentieth, by the ten-o'clock train (West Shore),
and stay with me till Monday, the thirty-first? I will meet you at
the station on Thursday afternoon. We have a new golf course, and
all sorts of pleasant things are going on.
Hoping soon to see you, I am, dear Abby,
Yours lovingly,
MARY HILLS.
July fifteenth, eighteen--
Abby's reply would probably be somewhat like this:
182 SEVENTY-EIGHTH STREET, NEW YORK.
DEAR, DEAR MARY,--How good you are to ask me for so charming a
visit! It will give me the greatest pleasure to go to you on the
twentieth and to stay for ten days, as you suggest. You may expect
to see me flying down the station to meet you when the ten-o'clock
train reaches the mountains on that afternoon. I can hardly wait
for the blissful time to arrive. Mamma sends her love, and I am,
as ever,
Devotedly yours,
ABBY LEWIS.
A household critic suggests to me at this point that "Dearest Abby" and
"Dear, dear Mary," are rather gushing, and not quite in the approved
literary style which ought to be shown to girls. But I am talking to
real girls, and I know how they write, and I don't mind in the least a
little effervescence in the way of adjectives. I like girls to call me
"Dearest" when they write to me, and I don't mind their saying "Dear" to
one another over and over again.
How much luggage you must take when going on a visit depends on the
length of the visit and the number of engagements it will include. As a
rule, in our changeable climate you will need, in going away from home,
something thick and something thin. A trunk is a great comfort, though
one can manage with a large bag or a telescope, while a man's suit-case
lends itself finely to the folding of a girl's gown.
With two or three pretty shirt-waists and a nice skirt, a simple dress
for evenings, and a warm stuff costume of serge or flannel for cool or
rainy mornings, a girl will be supplied for every needful requirement.
One's own dainty home wardrobe is sufficient for a visit, and if the
sailor hat be trim, the shoes and gloves in order, and the girl carry
herself gracefully, nobody will think a second time about her dress.
As soon as possible after a journey lay aside your travelling dress, and
make a fresh toilette before joining the family. Try to ascertain the
family habits, and conform to them.
I heard not long ago of a girl, said to be very clever and bright, who
exclaimed: "Make my own bed! Why, I wouldn't know how to begin! I
couldn't get the sheets on straight!" She wasn't a Pudding Stick girl of
mine, I'm happy to say. More on this subject next time.
[Illustration: Signature]
* * * * *
SICKNESS AMONG CHILDREN
is prevalent at all seasons of the year, but can be avoided largely when
they are properly cared for. _Infant Health_ is the title of a valuable
pamphlet accessible to all who will send address to the New York
Condensed Milk Co., N. Y. City.--[_Adv._]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Arnold
Constable & Co
* * * * *
MISSES' AND CHILDREN'S
Wash Suits
GREATLY REDUCED PRICES.
* * * * *
Broadway & 19th st.
NEW YORK.
[Illustration]
Trilby's Foot
was perfect (perhaps yours is), but even perfect feet get tired, and
nothing takes out the tired aches like Pond's Extract.
Avoid substitutes; accept genuine only, with buff wrapper and yellow
label.
POND'S EXTRACT CO., 76 Fifth Ave., New York.
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.
=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]
Commit to Memory
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always including good Songs and
Hymns. It is surprising how little good work of this kind seems to be
done in the Schools, if one must judge from the small number of people
who can repeat, without mistake or omission, as many as =Three= good
songs or hymns.
Clear, Sharp, Definite,
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent thing, whether in School or
out of it, among all ages and all classes. But let that which is so
learned be worth learning and worth retaining. The Franklin Square Song
Collection presents a large number of
Old and New Songs
and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully selected, comprising
Sixteen Hundred in the Eight Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice and profitable Reading Matter relating to Music and Musicians. In
the complete and varied
Table of Contents,
which is sent free on application to the Publishers, there are found
dozens of the best things in the World, which are well worth committing
to memory; and they who know most of such good things, and appreciate
and enjoy them most, are really among the best educated people in any
country. They have the best result of Education. For above Contents,
with sample pages of Music, address
Harper & Brothers, New York.
PRIZE-STORY COMPETITION.
SECOND-PRIZE STORY.
An Exciting Game. By Nancy Howe Wood.
It was when I was a struggling young physician in a small country town
that I passed through an adventure which I would not care to repeat,
although now I can plainly see its humorous aspect.
I had but shortly before graduated from a medical college, and was
trying hard to get my living in a little village where there were two
other older and more experienced doctors. I was becoming greatly
disheartened, when one day, on my return from a visit to a poor woman of
the village, I found an official-looking letter awaiting me. I opened it
with some degree of excitement, and was astonished to find that it was
an offer to me of the position of resident physician in the Blankville
Insane Asylum, situated about two miles away. A salary was named which
seemed a fortune to me, poverty-stricken as I then was. (I afterwards
learned that the offer was made to me through the efforts of an
influential friend.)
At first the letter gave me unlimited joy, and I shouted like a
school-boy; but when I began to think what it would actually mean my
heart sank. All my life I had had a nervous horror of insane persons,
and if I should accept this offer I would be obliged to stay with them,
eat with them, and live among them almost as one of themselves. At this
thought I fairly shuddered, and was forced to confess to myself that I
could never endure such a strain on my nerves, doctor though I was.
The next morning, however, when I again read the letter, the offer
seemed so tempting that I said to myself: "Pshaw! I will not be
conquered by an attack of nerves. Come, brace yourself up, man. Why, a
few years at that salary will be enough to set you up for life!"
Nevertheless, I determined to go up the following day, and _look over_
the place before deciding on my final answer.
So early the next morning I presented myself at the asylum, all my
nervousness gone. I was so politely shown about, and everything looked
so orderly and well cared for, and the grounds without seemed so
peaceful and quiet, that I was delighted with it all. My misgivings had
almost vanished, and I had so nearly made up my mind to accept the
lucrative offer, that I said to the smiling and complaisant guard who
was acting as my guide:
"Tell the superintendent that if he will kindly allow me to stroll in
the garden and think the matter over, I will give him my final answer
within the hour." So saying, I began to pace up and down the
flower-bordered walks.
I was by this time in such a well-satisfied frame of mind that I
promptly dispelled the last remnants of my former nervousness.
I was just on the point of re-entering the asylum to say to the
Superintendent that I gratefully accepted his offer when I was startled
by the sound of crackling twigs behind me. Turning quickly, I found
myself face to face with a man whom I supposed at first to be one of the
guards. But as soon as I moved away from him to go toward the house he
sprang forward with hand outstretched to clutch me, uttering an idiotic
chuckle. Cold shivers chased up and down my back as the thought flashed
upon me that it was an escaped patient! With a shriek I ran down the
path at the top of my speed, my fear increased by the sound of pursuing
steps behind me.
I doubled and turned on the track, striving to distance or elude my
dreaded pursuer, but in spite of my frantic efforts, he kept closely at
my heels. Finally in one of my windings I was confronted by the six-foot
stone wall that surrounded the asylum on every side. Glancing backward,
I saw that the maniac--as I now knew him to be--was almost upon me, and,
making a desperate effort, I succeeded in reaching the top of the wall.
For a moment I fancied myself secure: but my pursuer darted behind the
shrubbery, and pulled out a small ladder, evidently used by the
gardeners. Seeing him thus prepared to follow me, I hurriedly dropped to
the ground outside, and scrambled to my feet just as the lunatic's head
appeared above the top of the wall. Again I had only a short start
before he was once more on my track.
And now began an exciting race "over brush, brake, and brier"; sometimes
I stumbled over a protruding root and fell headlong, but was up again in
a twinkling; sometimes my pursuer was so close upon me that I could
easily hear his panting breath. At the end of the first mile and a
quarter I thought myself done for, but my college training, which,
luckily, I had not forgotten, stood me in good stead, and I desperately
ran on.
"Oh," thought I, wildly, "where are the villagers? Isn't anybody near?
But there was no road leading out of the village in that direction, and
few people passed that way. At last, after years, it seemed to me, we
entered the village, and tore at full speed down the main street. If I
had longed before for some human soul to help me, I now as earnestly
prayed that I might unobserved gain my own door, and so be safe. But no;
some small boy, busily engaged doing nothing, soon raised the cry,
"Say, here comes the fresh young doctor a-tearing down the street like a
steam-engine!"
Then, almost tired out, and seeing the door of a small house standing
open, I dashed in, passed through the hall and dining-room, where the
astonished family were sitting at dinner, and out into the back yard,
where, completely exhausted, and utterly unable to run a step further, I
dropped behind a barrel.
My hope had been that the people of the house would have understood my
predicament and stopped the madman, but they evidently had not taken in
the situation, or else he had been too quick for them, for from behind
the barrel where I had concealed myself I could hear him come through
the open doorway and search the yard for me.
And now I feared that my panting breath would betray me--and it did, for
I heard his stealthy steps approach the spot where I lay quaking, and
his ugly, leering face peered round at me, and he sprang forward and
touched me, calling out, as I fell back almost fainting with terror:
"_Tag! You're it!_"
In an instant the meaning of his words flashed over me, and I cursed
myself for my foolish nervousness. The confounded fool had taken it for
a game of tag!
By this time quite a little crowd of villagers had gathered around me,
and the escaped lunatic was secured to wait for the arrival of his
keeper, and I managed to reach my home, after being fortified by a glass
of wine.
It was several days before my nerves recovered their usual steadiness,
and it is perhaps needless to add that I did not accept the situation.
The Helping Hand.
The Lancelot Chapter, of Newtonville, Mass., has nine members, and each
earned twenty-five cents. Then the Chapter added a little, and the
secretary forwarded $3 with the best of Lancelot wishes Names of the
contributors are Ella A. Gould, Marion Drew Bassett, Adella J.
Saunderson, Ethel T. Gammons, Alice L. Harrison, Esther H. Dyson, Lulu
Ulmer, Mabel Glazier, and Hazel L. Bobbins.
The Edison Chapter, of Bangor, Me., send $2 for the Fund. This Fund is,
you know, to help build the Round Table Industrial School-house at Good
Will Farm, where poor boys are educated. The Table is raising this Fund,
and it asks contributions from all who want, first, to help chivalrous
young persons who are trying to help others, and second, to help in the
best possible way boys who need help.
Any sums, sent by anybody, will be thankfully received and acknowledged
in the Table. Members of the Edison Chapter, which sent the $2 the other
day, earned the money folding and carrying papers, getting out ashes,
and washing dishes--truly practical methods of being truly generous.
Founders of the Order of the Round Table want $1000 to complete this
School Fund. Who will help them?
From Some Far-Away Members.
The Table loves to hear from far-distant places, and to have members
tell us how their country looks, and what the people do. Here is news
from three friends:
SPRING CREEK, MARLBOROUGH, NEW ZEALAND.
New Zealand is a far-away country to you, yet I have seen some
letters from here. The town I live near is not very large. It is
subject to floods, and last year the water came thirteen times
into some of the shops. I have not travelled about much, so I
cannot describe to you my journeys as many other girls do. The
North Island of New Zealand is very volcanic, especially near the
centre. There are many hot springs there, some just warm, and
others boiling. The Maories, as the natives are called, boil their
potatoes in them, by letting them down into the springs in
baskets.
Out of one of the volcanic mountains the lava that streamed down
the sides was a pale pink. It was formed into terraces all down
the mountainside. On another mountain it was much the same, only
the terraces were white. A few years ago a great eruption caused
them to entirely disappear. Since then some brown ones have begun
to form, but they are very inferior to the former ones. When the
eruption took place there were loud noises heard almost all over
New Zealand. Many people who lived near were wellnigh smothered
with mud, and for miles the country was covered with ashes and
mud, in many places several feet thick. Most of the deposit was of
a steel-gray color, and just like knife-polish in texture. My
younger sister and I collect stamps. As yet we have very few. I
have seen letters asking for girls to write and exchange stamps. I
would much like some girls to write to me, and send the stamps of
their countries. In return I will send them New Zealand ones.
JEAN CHAYTOR.
* * * * *
BLENHEIM, MARLBOROUGH, NEW ZEALAND.
I am collecting stamps, and would be glad if any girls would write
to me and send me some stamps of their country, and I will send
them some of mine. There is a Maori pah about two miles from here.
Some time ago the chief died, and they had a great tangi, which
lasted for a fortnight. In old times Maoris used to bury their
dead head down and all their goods with them, and then stick a
canoe at the head of the grave.
CONSTANCE CHAYTOR.
* * * * *
BLENHEIM, MARLBOROUGH, NEW ZEALAND.
There was a chrysanthemum show here last Thursday, and there were
some lovely flowers at it. I think the chrysanthemums are
beautiful flowers, especially the Japanese ones. We have big
floods in Blenheim. I think they are great fun, but they do great
damage, especially to the farms. Once when we had a big flood my
sister was sitting on the bed taking off her boots. She forgot
about the water, and dropped her boots into it, and they floated
about the house all night.
A month ago Rev. Mr. Brittain, a Melanesian missionary, and
twenty-two Melanesian boys came to Blenheim; only a few of the
boys could speak English. The others speak Mota. It was
interesting hearing all about the islands. At Norfolk Island there
is a large college. There is also a beautiful church. All the
seats are inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Last summer all our family
and several others went down to White's Bay, which is about ten
miles from Blenheim, camping. We had three tents. We staid two
weeks, and had a splendid time. I collect stamps, and would be
very glad if any of the girls would write to me and send some, and
I in return would send them some New Zealand ones.
MILLIE DOBSON.
Chin-Kiang, China.
I wrote a long letter which was accepted for publication in the
Table, and every time I get a new number I look for it, but am
always disappointed. In the last one there was a letter from
Juliet Bredon, with whom I spent several weeks in Japan, which
interested me very much, and made me wish all the more to see mine
in print. It will be soon, won't it? I will write something more
about Chin-Kiang by-and-by if it will interest other members of
the Table.
MILDRED C. JONES.
Your letter shall appear in due time. Yes, tell us more about China and
the Chinese. We are much interested--all of us.
[Illustration: Ivory Soap]
When you pack for the sea shore or the mountains, fill a tray of your
trunk with Ivory Soap and require your laundress to use it. Light summer
garments should be washed only with a pure white soap.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI.
[Illustration]
Not of the preparations of coloring matter and essential oils so often
sold under the name of rootbeer, but of the purest, most delicious,
health-giving beverage possible to produce. One gallon of Hires' is
worth ten of the counterfeit kind. Suppose an imitation extract costs
five cents less than the genuine Hires; the same amount of sugar and
trouble is required; you save one cent a gallon, and--get an unhealthful
imitation in the end. Ask for HIRES and _get_ it.
[Illustration: HIRES' Rootbeer]
THE CHAS. E. HIRES CO., Philadelphia.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures in one loading--re-loading
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
=DEAFNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED= by my =INVISIBLE= Tubular Cushions. Have
helped more to good =HEAR=ing than all other devices combined. Whispers
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Book of proofs FREE
[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE
WATER]
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent by mail to any
address on receipt of ten cents.
By W. J. HENDERSON
* * * * *
Elements of Navigation
With Diagrams. 16mo, Cloth, $1.00.
Afloat with the Flag
Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25.
Sea Yarns for Boys
SPUN BY AN OLD SALT. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental,
$1.25.
* * * * *
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: THE BABY ELEPHANT'S MISADVENTURE, OR THE SATISFACTION OF
HAVING AN EFFICIENT PARENT.]
A SAFE METHOD.
The treasures of the Bank of France are said to be better guarded than
those of any other bank in the world. At the close of business hours
every day, when the money is put into the vaults in the cellar, masons
at once wall up the doors with hydraulic mortar. Water is then turned on
and kept running until the cellar is flooded. A burglar would have to
work in a diving suit and break down a cement wall before he could even
start to loot the vaults. When the officers arrive the next morning, the
water is drawn off, the masonry is torn down, and the vaults opened.
AN INDIAN TRADITION.
Here is an Indian version of the story of the flood, as it was taken by
a writer connected with an Australian journal. Says he: "All of the
northern coast Indians have a tradition of a flood which destroyed all
mankind except a pair from which the earth was peopled. Each tribe gives
the story a local coloring, but the plot of the story is much the same.
The Bella Coola tradition is as follows: The Creator of the universe,
Mes-mes-sa-la-nik, had great difficulty in the arrangement of the land
and water. The earth persisted in sinking out of sight. At last he hit
upon a plan which worked very well. Taking a long line of twisted walrus
hide, he tied it around the dry land, and fastened the other end to the
corner of the moon. Everything worked well for a long time; but at last
the Spirit became very much offended at the action of mankind, and in a
fit of anger one day seized his great stone knife, and with a mighty
hack severed the rope of twisted skin. Immediately the land began to
sink into the sea. The angry waves rushed in torrents up the valleys,
and in a short time nothing was visible except the peak of a very high
mountain. All mankind perished in the whelming waters, with the
exception of two, a man and his wife, who were out fishing in a great
canoe. These two succeeded in reaching the top of the mountain, and
proceeded to make themselves at home. Here they remained for some time,
until the anger of Mes-mes-sa-la-nik had cooled, which resulted in his
fishing up the severed thong and again fastening it to the moon. From
this pair thus saved the earth was again populated."
WHERE IT WENT.
Lunatics often assume a superiority of intellect to others which is
quite amusing. A gentleman travelling in England some years ago, while
walking along the road not far from the side of which there ran a
railway, encountered a number of insane people out for exercise in
charge of a keeper. With a nod toward the railway tracks, he said to one
of the lunatics,
"Where does this railway go to?"
The lunatic looked at him scornfully a moment, and then replied:
"It don't go anywhere. We keep it here to run trains on."
A HUGE PIE.
The largest pie ever known was that described in the Newcastle
_Chronicle_ for the 6th January, 1770. It was shipped to Sir Henry Gray,
Baronet, London, Mrs. Dorothy Patterson, housekeeper at Hawic, being the
maker. Into the composition of this great pie entered two bushels of
flour, twenty pounds of butter, four geese, two turkeys, two rabbits,
four wild ducks, two woodcocks, six snipe, four partridges, two neats'
tongues, two curlews, seven black-birds, and six pigeons. It weighed
twelve stone, and was nine feet in circumference at the bottom. It was
furnished with a case on wheels, for convenience in passing it round to
the guests.
The receipt for this pie is given here as a hint to those of our readers
who may be thinking of getting up a picnic within the next two or three
weeks. A half dozen pies of this size ought to be enough for at least
one picnic.
A STRANGE SUIT.
According to the Pittsburg _Journal_, Peter Gruber, the Rattlesnake King
of Venango County, has made the most unique costume any man ever wore.
It consists of coat, vest, trousers, hat, shoes, and shirt, and is made
entirely of the skins of rattlesnakes. Seven hundred snakes, all caught
and skinned by Gruber during the past five years, provided the material
for this novel costume. To preserve the brilliancy and the flexibility
of the skins in the greatest possible degree, the snakes were skinned
alive, first being made unconscious by chloroform. They were then tanned
by a method peculiar to Gruber, and are as soft and elastic as woollen
goods. The different articles for this outfit were made by Oil City
tailors, shoemakers and hatters, and the costume is valued at $1000.
A FEW NOTES ABOUT COINS.
The rei of Brazil, like the mill of our own money table, is an imaginary
coin, no piece of that denomination being coined. Ten thousand reis
equal $5.45.
Vermont was the first State to issue a coinage on its own authority.
Copper coins were issued in 1785.
The first woman's face represented on a coin was that of Pulcheria, the
Empress of the Eastern Empire.
The Chinese stamp bars or ingots of gold or silver with their weight and
fineness, and pass them from hand to hand as coin.
The first Maryland coins were minted in 1662, and were put in
circulation by act of Council ordering every householder to bring in
sixty pounds of tobacco and receive ten shillings of the new money in
exchange for it.
In 1634 the Massachusetts General Assembly made bullets a legal tender
by the following enactment: "It is likewise ordered that muskett
bulletts of a full boare shall pass currently for a farthing apiece.
Provided that noe man be compelled to take above XIId att a tyme in
them."
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, July 9, 1895, by Various