SHOOTING THE RAPIDS
Three months earlier, if anybody had told Adrian he would ever be
guilty of such “squeamishness,” he would have laughed in derision. Now,
all unconsciously to himself, the influence of his summer at Peace
Island was upon him, and it came to him with the force of a revelation
that God had created the wild creatures of His forests for something
nobler than to become the prey of man.
“Oh! That grand fellow! His splendidly defiant, yet hopeless, facing of
death! I wish we’d never met him!”
“Well, of all fools! I thought you wanted nothing but a chance at him
yourself.”
“So I did, before I saw him. What if it had been Madoc?”
“That’s different.”
“The same. Might have been twin brothers. Maybe they were.”
“Couldn’t have been. Paddle, won’t you?”
Adrian did so, but with a poor grace. He would now far rather have
turned the canoe about toward camp, yet railed at himself for his
sudden cowardice. He shrank from looking on the dead moose as only an
hour before he had longed to do so.
They were soon at the spot where the animal had disappeared, and,
pushing the boat upon the reedy shore, Pierre plunged forward through
the marsh. Adrian did not follow, till a triumphant shout reached him.
Then he felt in his pocket and, finding a pencil with a bit of paper,
made his own way more slowly to the side of his comrade, who, wildly
excited, was examining and measuring his quarry. On a broad-leaved rush
he had marked off a hand’s width, and from this unit calculated that:
“He’s eight feet four from hoof to shoulder, and that betters the
King by six inches. See! His horns spread nigh six feet. If he stood
straight and held them up, he’d be fifteen feet or nothing! They spread
more’n six feet, and, I tell you, he’s a beauty!”
“Yes. He’s all of that. But of what use is his beauty now?”
“Humph! Didn’t know you was a girl!”
Adrian did not answer. He was rapidly and skillfully sketching the
prostrate animal, and studying it minutely. From his memory of it alive
and the drawing, he hoped to paint a tolerably lifelike portrait of
the animal; and a fresh inspiration came to him. To those projected
woodland pictures he would add glimpses of its wild denizens, and in
such a way that the hearts of the beholders should be moved to pity,
not to slaughter.
But, already, that sharpened knife of Pierre’s was at work, defacing,
mutilating.
“Why do that, man?”
“Why not? What ails you? What’d we hunt for?”
“We don’t need him for food. You cannot possibly carry those horns any
distance on our trip, and you’re not apt to come back just this same
way. Let him lie. You’ve done him all the harm you should. Come on. Is
this like him?” and Adrian showed his drawing.
“Oh! It’s like enough. If you don’t relish my job, clear out. I can
skin him alone.”
Adrian waited no second bidding, but strolled away to a distance and
tried to think of other things than the butchering in progress. But
at last Pierre whistled, and he had to go back or else be left in the
wilderness to fare alone as best he might. It was a ghastly sight. The
great skin, splashed and wet with its owner’s blood, the dismembered
antlers, the slashed-off nose,--which such as Pierre considered a
precious tid-bit,--the naked carcass, and the butcher’s own uninviting
state.
“I declare, I can never get into the same boat with you and all
that horror. Do leave it here. Do wash yourself,--there’s plenty of
water,--and let’s be gone.”
Pierre did not notice the appeal. Though the lust of killing had died
out of his eyes, the lust of greed remained. Already he was estimating
the value of the hide, cured or uncured, and the price those antlers
would bring could he once get them to the proper market.
“Why, I’ve heard that in some of the towns folks buy ’em to hang their
hats on. Odd! Lend a hand.”
Reluctantly, Adrian did lift his portion of heavy horns and helped
carry them to the birch. He realized that the quickest way of putting
this disagreeable spot behind him was by doing as he was asked. He was
hopeless of influencing the other by any change in his own feelings,
and wisely kept silence.
But they hunted no more that day, nor did they make any further
progress on their journey. Pierre busied himself in erecting a rude
frame, upon which he stretched the moose skin to dry. He also prepared
the antlers and built a sort of hut, of saplings and bark, where he
could store his trophies till his return trip.
“For I shall surely come back this same way. It’s good hunting ground
and moose feed in herds. Small herds, course, but two three make a
fello’ rich. Eh?”
Adrian said nothing. He occupied himself in what Pierre considered a
silly fashion, sketching, studying “effects,” and carefully cutting big
pieces of the birch bark that he meant to use for canvas. To keep this
flat during his travels was a rather difficult problem, but finally
solved by cutting two slabs of cedar wood and placing the sheets of
bark between these.
Whereupon Pierre laughed and assured the weary chopper that he had had
his trouble for his pains.
“What for you want to carry big lumber that way? Roll your bark. That’s
all right. When you want to use it, put it in water. Easy. Queer how
little you know about things.”
“All right. I was silly, sure enough. But thanks for your teaching.
Maybe, if you were in my city, I might show you a thing or two.”
Both lads were glad, however, when night came, and, having cooked
themselves a good supper and replenished their fire, they slept as
only such healthy lads can sleep; to wake at sunrise, ready for fresh
adventures, and with the tragedy of the previous day partly forgotten,
even by Adrian. Then, after a hearty breakfast, they resumed their trip.
Nothing eventful occurred for some time after. No more moose appeared,
and, beyond winging a duck or two and fishing now and then, Pierre kept
his hunting instincts down. In fact, he was just then too lazy to exert
himself. He felt that he had labored beyond all reason during the past
summer and needed a rest. Besides, were not his wages steadily going
on? If Adrian was silly enough to paint and paint and paint all day,
this old tree and that mossy stump, he was not responsible for another
man’s stupidity. Not he. The food was still holding out, so let things
take their course.
Suddenly, however, Adrian realized that they were wasting time. He
had made sketches on everything and anything he could find, and had
accumulated enough birch bark to swamp the canoe, should they strike
rough water; and far more than was comfortable for him to carry over
any portage. So he one morning announced his intention of leaving the
wilderness and getting back to civilization.
“All right. I go with you. Show me the town, then I’ll come back.”
“Well, as you please. Only I don’t propose to pay you any longer than
will take us, now by the shortest road, to Donovan’s.”
“Time enough to borrow that trouble when you see it.”
But Pierre suggested that, as Adrian wished to learn everything
possible about the woods, he should now take the guidance of affairs,
and that whenever things went wrong, he, Pierre, could point the way.
He did this because, of late, he fancied that his young employer had
taken a “too top-lofty” tone in addressing him; and, in truth, Adrian’s
day dreams of coming fame and his own genius were making him feel
vastly superior to the rough woodsman.
They had paddled over dead water to a point where two streams touched
it, and the question rose--which way?
“That!” said Adrian, with decision, pointing to the broader and more
southern of the two.
“Good enough.”
For a moment the leader fancied there was a gleam of malice in
his hireling’s eye, but he considered it beneath his notice and
calmly turned the canoe into the thoroughfare he had chosen. It was
wonderfully smooth and delightful paddling. In all their trip they had
not found so level a stream, and it was nothing but enjoyment of the
scenery that Adrian felt; until it seemed to him that they had been
moving a long time without arriving anywhere. “Haven’t we?” he asked.
“Oh! we’ll get there soon, now.”
Presently things began to look familiar. There was one
curiously-shaped, lightning-riven pine, standing high above its
fellows, that appeared like an old friend.
“Why, what’s this? Can there be two trees, exactly alike, within a
half-day’s rowing? I’ve certainly sketched that old landmark from every
side, and--Hello! yonder’s my group of white birches, or I’m blind. How
queer!”
A few more sweeps and the remains of the camp they had that morning
left were before them, and Pierre could no longer repress his glee.
“Good guide, you! Trust a know-it-all for a fool.”
“What does it mean?” demanded Adrian, angrily.
“Nothing. Only you picked out a run-about, a little branch of river,
that wanders out of course and then comes home again. Begins and ends
the same. Oh! you’re wise, you are.”
“Would the other lead us right?”
“Yes.”
“But it turns north. We’re bound south.”
“That’s no matter. Can’t a river turn, same as run-about?”
“I give up. You guide. I’ll stick to my brush.”
This restored affairs to the ground which Pierre considered proper,
and, having paused long enough to eat a lunch, they set out afresh. The
new track they followed ascended steadily, and it proved a difficult
stream to warp up; but the ascent was accomplished without accident,
and then the surface of the land altered. Again they reached a point
where two branches met, and Pierre explained that the waters of one
ran due north, but the other bent gradually toward the south and in a
little while descended through one of the most dangerous “rips” he had
ever seen.
“Only saw them once, either. When I went as far as Donovan’s with the
master, year before last.”
“Didn’t know he ever came so far from the island.”
“Why, he goes once every summer, or fall, as far as that New York of
yours. Likely he’ll be going soon again.”
“He does! Queer he never mentioned it.”
“Maybe. I’ve a notion, though, that the things he don’t say are more
important than what he does. Ever shoot a rip?”
“No. I’ve tried and failed. That’s how I happened to get lost and
wandered to Dutton’s.”
“He’s the boss hand at it. Seems as if the danger fired him up. Makes
him feel as I do when I hunt big game. He didn’t need my help, only
fetched me along to take back some truck. That’s how he picked me out
to show you. He knew I knew--”
“And I wish I knew--lots of things!”
“One of ’em might be that round that next turn comes the first dip.
Then look out.”
The stream was descending very perceptibly, and they needed no paddling
to keep them moving. But they did require to be incessantly on the
watch to guard against the rocks which obstructed the current, and
which threatened the safety of their frail craft.
“You keep an eye on me and one on the channel. It’ll take a clear head
to carry us through, and no fooling.”
Adrian did not answer. He had no thought for anything just then but the
menace of those jagged points; which seemed to reach toward them as if
to destroy.
Nor did Pierre speak again. Far better even than his silent companion
could he estimate the perils which beset them. Life itself was the
price which they would pay for a moment’s carelessness, but a cool
head, a clear eye, and a steady wrist--these meant safety and the proud
record of a dangerous passage wisely made. A man who could shoot those
rapids was a guide who might, indeed, some time demand the high wages
Adrian had jeered at.
Suddenly the channel seemed barred by two opposing boulders, whose
points lapped each other. In reality, there was a way between them, by
the shortest of curves and of but little more than the canoe’s width.
Pierre saw and measured the distance skillfully, but he had not counted
upon the opposing force of the water that rushed against them.
“Look--out! Take--”
Behind the right-hand rock seethed a mighty whirlpool, where the river,
speeding downward, was caught and tossed back upon itself, around and
around, mad to escape yet bound by its own power.
Into this vortex the canoe was hurled, to be instantly overturned and
dashed to pieces on the rock.
On its first circuit of the pool, Adrian leaped and landed upon the
slippery boulder--breathless, but alive! His hand still clasped the
pole he had been using to steer with, and Pierre--? He had almost
disappeared within the whirling water, that tossed him like a feather.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
FOURTH OF JULY
Fling out our banner to the breeze,
Our glorious stripes and stars;
Unfurl our flag, o’er land and seas--
Our nation’s stars and bars!
The emblem of our birthright wave,
O’er hill, and vale, and plain,
Till over every patriot grave
Our flag shall float again.
We sing to-day a nation’s pride,
Sung through an hundred years,
Yet pause to bless the brave who died,
And mingle smiles with tears;
For ’neath the hill and on the plain
The fallen heroes sleep,
And while we sing our glad refrain
Their mem’ry still we keep.
Thanks be to Him who rules on high,
For this, our festal day--
Who holds the sparrows as they fly,
And guides a nation’s way;
May Freedom e’er maintain her cause,
Unstained by passion’s wars,
And Freedom e’er proclaim her laws
Beneath the stripes and stars.
--W. F. Fox.
Wood-Folk Talk
By J. ALLISON ATWOOD
AUK’S MYSTERY.
Without doubt most persons, should we ask them where Auk might be
found, would laugh at us. “Auk?” they would say; “why he’s been dead
for over half a century.” This seems very likely, since he has been
neither seen nor heard of for a long time. But let me whisper a word in
your ear: “Auk is still alive.” But why should he hide this way? Well,
there is a very good reason for it, as you will see.
To our mind Auk was badly treated. He was certainly not to blame for
being unattractive: neither was it his fault that he was clumsy. He
had lived on the shore of the Great South Bay for years, and supported
himself comfortably by his industry. But he was kept from making
friends by his awkward manners. It is easy enough for us to see the
meaning of the word awkward now, even if it is spelled with a “w”
instead of a “u,” but that is of little importance.
Auk was a fisherman, and all his time, when not resting, was spent on
the water. Although, as we have said, he was clumsy on land, Auk was a
very graceful swimmer. More than that, he could stay under the water a
long time, so that few fish, indeed, escaped him. This, of course, made
many birds dislike him. They feared that there would be no fish left
for them. To avert this danger, the Heron family, Tern, and most of the
Gulls--all, in fact, except Black-head, who was too happy to quarrel
with anyone--called a council. They would get rid of Auk.
On the water, they knew, they could not harm him in the least: he was
far too good a swimmer for that. But on the land he would be at their
mercy. As every one knows, Auk could not fly. He had been growing too
heavy of late years.
So Tern proposed that the birds wait until night, when it was Auk’s
habit to go back on the shore quite a way from the water to sleep. If
they attacked him there he would be an easy prey.
As soon as the sun had gone down Auk’s enemies gathered on the shore
just below the long sand-bar. About dark Sandpiper at the suggestion of
Night-Heron, stole quietly along the shore to learn if Auk was asleep.
It took him but a few minutes to reach the spot where the great bulky
fellow rested while sitting bolt upright. So excited was Sandpiper that
his heart beat wildly, and he had hardly gotten half way back when he
called out to his friends, “Asleep! Asleep!”
Now Auk, even when in a sound slumber, always kept his ears wide
open. That’s how he happened to hear Sandpiper’s piping voice telling
the other birds that he was asleep. At first he thought he had been
dreaming, but when he saw the dark forms down on the sand-bar he
realized the truth and knew that he was in peril.
Greatly frightened, Auk hurried to the water, as was his habit in all
danger. It was well he did, for, in the next instant. Blue Heron,
Tern, and a host of others came flying swiftly toward him. In another
moment Auk dived headlong into the sea and swam rapidly away, while his
enemies stood on the shore crying out in their disappointment.
* * * * *
Years passed and Auk was forgotten. Everyone supposed that he had
long ago fallen prey to some enemy. Then, one night, Birdland was
astonished. Night-Heron had been to the far north for some time past.
Suddenly he came bursting in upon them. His eyes were wide open with
wonder. All he could say was the word “Quok! Quok!” which everyone knew
was his way of saying “Auk,” Night-Heron being slightly tongue-tied.
After he had gotten over his excitement the birds learned of his trip
to Granite Island. Whom do you suppose he found there? It was no less a
person than Auk.
At first folks thought Night-Heron’s mind had been wandering. But when
he became calmer, and related his discovery, they could no longer
refuse to believe him. All the old anger of the fishing birds seemed to
arouse itself again. For years and years they had thought Auk was dead,
and now they learned that he was still living and probably laughing at
their stupidity.
Quickly gathering together, they started north. This time he would not
escape them. It took many days of tiresome flight, but at last they
could see Granite Island in the dim distance ahead of them. As they
drew near, their anger increased and their cries cut the air. Just try
to imagine their feelings then, when, upon nearer approach, they found
that Auk was not there.
The truth was that Black-head had flown ahead of the party and warned
Auk of his danger. Now he was circling high in air, and every now and
then he would break out in laughter: “Gone! Ha! ha! ha! Gone! Ha! ha!
ha!”
But this defeat only hardened the purpose of the fishing birds. They
still continue to hunt for Auk. Watch any of them if you will while on
the sea-shore. See how tirelessly Tern is searching as he skims over
wave after wave. Will he ever find Auk? At any rate, he will not give
up. But then, when we think of the broad expanse of the Great North
Ocean, and its many rocky islands, we cannot but feel that Auk is
pretty safe after all. He has found a good hiding-place somewhere.
You who have been believing that Auk has been extinct for half a
century, now know that it is not so. But where is he? There is only one
whom you can ask: that is Black-head. He will tell you nothing. Try it
and see. His only reply is a laugh: “Gone! Ha! ha! ha! Gone! Ha! ha!
ha!”
* * * * *
Nay, speak no ill; a kindly word
Can never leave a sting behind;
And, oh, to breathe each tale we’ve heard,
Is far beneath a noble mind;
For oft a better seed is sown
By choosing thus a kindlier plan;
Then if but little good we’ve known,
Let’s speak of all the good we can.
--Anonymous.
[Illustration: WITH THE EDITOR]
WITH THE EDITOR
There is no holiday which appeals so directly to the boy as does the
Fourth of July. Easter with its spirit of hopefulness, Thanksgiving
with its bounty of turkey, or even Christmas with all its cheer and
good will, does not, for some reason, reach the same depths of the boy
nature as does the boom and sizz of fire crackers. There is something
of the savage in him which delights in this almost barbaric method of
commemorating the courage of his forefathers; for the Fourth of July is
pre-eminently a day of courage.
Without doubt we all admire bravery, but, while we are honoring those
who so willingly exposed themselves to the bullet and bayonet, let us
not lose sight of that courage which, though silent, was in reality the
strength of the American Revolution--the courage born of conviction. It
was this spirit which spoke through Richard Henry Lee when he proposed
that the United Colonies, with a few poorly-armed troops, should
renounce their allegiance to the most powerful nation in the world. It
was this which prompted John Adams to second the movement in Congress,
and there, by his eloquence, to uphold it day after day in the face of
an opposition so strong that Jefferson compared it with the ceaseless
action of gravity.
The desire for independence was not bred of impulse. No one foresaw the
danger of thus defying England more clearly than those who cried out
for the separation. They knew that it would expose them, individually
and collectively, to all the penalties of treason. But they had become
convinced that it was right, and, to them, that fact was sufficient.
Seemingly there is something of elasticity in this moral courage which
leaps over obstacles before which mere physical courage would halt.
Under the warmth of this spirit, with the strength of Patrick Henry,
John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson behind it, the opposition slowly
melted away, until, on July 4, 1776, the entire body declared for the
Declaration.
The representatives of the thirteen colonies had assembled in the old
State House at Philadelphia. An anxious throng, from far and near, had
gathered about the rough brick walls, for within was being discussed
the momentous question of their liberties. Of a sudden, the ponderous
bell overhead awoke and sent its pealing echoes from river to river,
and at the same instant, as from one voice, a wild, excited cheer burst
forth from the crowd below, to be taken up in every city in the land.
Thus, in one of the darkest hours of their history, the colonies had
declared themselves independent of a nation which had considered them
all but conquered.
Now, when we celebrate the one-hundred-and-twenty-sixth anniversary
of our country’s birth, let us remember and honor those who made it
possible. There is still, and will ever be, a call for the same moral
courage which, in the face of such overpowering obstacles, built our
nation. Not only on the Fourth of July, but during every day of the
year, let us keep their example before us.
EVENT AND COMMENT
Seventeen-Year “Locust”
An occurrence sufficiently rare to awaken interest, which has taken
place during the past month, is the arrival of the seventeen-year
cicada, commonly, though improperly, termed locust.
These insects, which since the year 1885 have spent their entire lives
in the ground, have, during the past six weeks, appeared in great
numbers in various localities throughout the country.
In any of these areas, if we observe the ground closely, we will see
it dotted here and there with small holes. Through these the cicadas,
after living underground for seventeen years, have now made their way
to the surface. Here, with the shedding of the old shell, they take on
a pair of wings, and after a short but noisy life of perhaps six weeks,
they die. But in the meantime they have laid the eggs which insure a
future brood of cicadas.
The recording of the periodical visits of this insect dates as far back
as 1633, when, it is stated, that a swarm was observed by the Puritans
at the Plymouth Colony in Massachusetts.
For many years our knowledge of the cicada, because of its underground
habits, has been extremely limited, but at a comparatively recent
date the Biological Survey at Washington has made a series of careful
investigations, resulting in a very full history of the life and habits
of this curious insect.
* * * * *
Among other facts relating to the cicada, brought out by the research,
is that, as is the case of many creatures of which we know little, the
damage done by it to agriculture has been greatly overestimated.
The Boer War Ended
War in South Africa was formally brought to an end when, on May 31st,
the Boer delegates at Pretoria signed the documents containing the
terms of surrender.
The war began on October 11th, 1899, and has lasted two years seven
months and twenty-one days. It has cost England $1,200,000,000, besides
which they have suffered a loss of 21,966 killed and 75,000 prisoners
and wounded.
The estimated loss of the Boers is 19,000 lives and 40,000 captured.
The greatest force of troops which England had in the field at any one
time was 280,000, while estimates of the Boer army vary from 25,000 to
50,000.
* * * * *
The terms of peace allowed to the Boers are, perhaps, the best ever
offered to a conquered people. Among its conditions are: Immunity
from war indemnity, the substitution of representative for military
administration, and a gift of fifteen millions of dollars for the
re-stocking of their farms.
The Cuban Republic
On May 20th, Governor-General Wood, according to his instructions from
the President of the United States, turned over to President Palma and
his Congress the government and control of the island of Cuba.
During the impressive ceremony President Palma, amid the cheers of the
spectators, expressed his thanks to the Government of the United States
for the fulfillment of its pledges and its kindly services to the new
republic.
According to the _Boston Herald_, “the American flag was never more
highly honored than when it was hauled down by Governor-General Leonard
Wood from the Government building at Havana.”
* * * * *
There is probably no parallel in history of this act of the United
States in which a nation, after having won so rich a territorial prize
in war, eventually turned it over to its people for free government.
The New Trains
One of the most significant railway trials ever held in this or any
country was that recently made between New York and Chicago, by the
special train of the Pennsylvania Railroad and the “Twentieth Century”
of the New York Central.
Although the two trains went by widely separate routes, they covered
the required distance, over nine hundred miles, in the same time to the
minute--19 hours and 57 minutes.
This is three minutes less than the schedule time allowed, and is fully
three hours faster than any speed previously made over the same course.
* * * * *
As these new trains are now regularly on the schedules of their
respective roads, the race will hereafter be an every-day occurrence,
and we may look forward even to the lowering of this record.
Foreign Immigration
During the month of May the total number of immigrants arriving at New
York was between 85,000 and 90,000.
This exceeds any monthly record for the past twenty years. The majority
of the new arrivals were from Austria-Hungary, Italy, and Russia. In a
count of 51,000 immigrants it was found that 14,000 could neither read
nor write.
* * * * *
Although at present this does not promise much for the standard of
American citizenship, we can reasonably hope that in time our system of
education will convert their descendants, at least, into very useful
citizens.
[Illustration: OUT OF DOORS]
OUT OF DOORS
The great event at the recent intercollegiate athletic meeting held in
New York, was the hundred-yard run made by Duffy, Georgetown’s little
sprinter, who covered the distance in the remarkable time of 9 3-5
seconds. This has been a long-coveted speed among runners, and is very
likely to stand for some time as the world’s record.
The outcome of the meeting in points was as follows: Harvard, 34; Yale,
30; Princeton, 27.
* * * * *
At the time of writing interest in the rowing world centers in the
regatta of the Inter-collegiate Rowing Association, to be held at
Poughkeepsie, on June 21. Here Cornell, Columbia, Pennsylvania,
Wisconsin, Georgetown, and Syracuse will enter eight-oar crews, in
addition to which the first three will make entry in the four-oar
contest. All but Georgetown will also participate in the Freshman race.
* * * * *
Oarsmen in this country are interested in learning that the American
Henley has been decided upon as an annual feature in the rowing world.
This is the result of the meeting of the American Rowing Association,
which held its session in New York on May 10th.
The event will be held annually in July on the Schuylkill River, at
Philadelphia, and will be so arranged as not to interfere with the
schedules of the colleges, in order that each one may be able to enter
a crew.
* * * * *
As the season of college base-ball draws to a close the facts indicate
that Harvard has had the best team in the field. Second to her, to the
surprise of many, comes the University of Illinois, who has defeated
Yale, Princeton, and Pennsylvania, and was only beaten by Harvard by a
score of 2 to 1.
Both Annapolis and West Point, considering the difficulties under which
they practice, have made such a good showing that we naturally look
forward to their taking a more prominent place on the diamond in future.
* * * * *
In spite of the fact that polo is only locally well known in this
country, it has already taken a strong hold upon the people. An
evidence of this may be found in the American team which went over to
London to compete with the best English players. During their stay the
visitors will be royally entertained, and will remain in England to
observe the coronation.
Interest in the games has been increased because of the fact that they
will be attended by King Edward, who has always been an enthusiastic
supporter of the sport.
[Illustration: IN-DOORS]
IN-DOORS
PARLOR MAGIC
By Ellis Stanyon
The first of this series of papers on Magic, commencing with the March
number, included directions to the beginner for Palming and the Pass.
Tricks with Handkerchiefs.--For the following experiments, you will
require three fifteen-inch silk handkerchiefs, an ordinary small
sliding match-box, a candle in a candlestick, and a conjuring wand;
also a false finger and a conjuring pistol, hereafter described.
* * * * *
You prepare for the series of tricks by rolling up one of the
handkerchiefs very small and pushing it into the match-box, which you
open about one inch for the purpose; another is rolled up and placed
behind the collar on the left-hand side of the neck; and the last is
loaded into the false finger and placed in the right-hand trousers
pocket. You are now ready to commence.
* * * * *
Handkerchief and Candle.--“Ladies and gentlemen, the following
experiment was suggested to me at the age of twelve, while studying
chemistry. I then learned that all matter was indestructible. Proof of
this, as you are well aware, is afforded with an ordinary candle. You
may light a candle at one end and let it burn to the other, but you
do not destroy the matter of which it is composed. What really takes
place is the formation of new substances, as hydrogen, carbon, water,
etc., which any of the text books on chemistry will explain. I will,
however, give you one striking illustration.”
Pick up the match-box and, while taking a match therefrom, push the
handkerchief into the right hand, and throw the box down on the table.
Take the candle from the candlestick and place it in the right hand,
which masks the presence of the handkerchief. You now appear to take
something from the flame of the candle with the left hand, which you
close as if it really contained an article. Open the hand slowly,
looking surprised to find that you have failed and remark: “Well,
really, I cannot understand this. I am generally successful with this
trick. Oh! I know what is the matter. You see, I am using the left
hand. If you do things left-handed they can’t possibly be right. I will
try the right hand.” Saying this, you place the candle in the left
hand and immediately produce the handkerchief from the flame, closing
the hand as before. It now only remains for you to open the hand and
develop the silk slowly.
To Fire a Handkerchief into a Gentleman’s Hair.--For the purpose of
this trick you will have to make use of what is known as a conjuring
pistol, which, being in constant use in magical surprises, I will
describe. It consists of an ordinary pistol fitted with a conical tin
tube eight inches long. The mouth of this tube is about two inches in
diameter, and is supplied with a tin cup one and one-half inches deep,
having its outer edge turned over all around so as to afford a ready
grip to the palm. The conical tube is fitted with an inner tube to keep
it firm on the barrel of the pistol (Fig. 10).
[Illustration: Fig. 10]
Taking up the pistol, you place the two handkerchiefs, which look like
one, in the cup; push them well down and remark: “I shall now fire
direct at the gentleman’s head, and after the shot the handkerchief
will be found firmly imbedded in his hair, and will, not unlikely, be
seen protruding from one of his ears. It just depends on the force of
the shot, you know, and I need hardly say I loaded the pistol myself,
and am totally ignorant of firearms. Are you ready, sir? Then good-by!”
Place the muzzle of the pistol in the left hand while you shake hands
with the gentleman. In taking the pistol back into the right hand
to fire it, you leave the cup behind in the left hand, and, at the
instant you pull the trigger, you drop it into the pocket on the left
side. When discharging the pistol you will, of course, stand with your
right side to the audience.
You now ask the gentleman to take the handkerchief from his hair,
telling him that it is just behind his left ear; and, while he is
trying to find it, you stand with your hands in your trousers pockets,
telling him to make haste, you cannot wait all evening. When he has
tried some time and failed to find it, you take your hands from your
pockets, having got the false finger into position between the second
and third fingers. Showing the hands back and front (the addition of
the extra finger will not be noticed), you pass them several times over
the head of the gentleman, then, lowering them to his head, you detach
the finger and draw out the handkerchief. The false finger is then laid
down on the table under cover of the handkerchief.
[Illustration: Fig. 11]
The finger is made of thin spun brass, painted flesh color. It is quite
hollow from tip to root, and is shaped for fitting between the second
and third fingers (Fig. 11). It can be used in many tricks, and is
really an indispensable accessory to the amateur magician.
[Illustration]
THE OLD TRUNK
The following are the names of the winners of May puzzle contest:
Harrie C. Knightly, Randolph, Mass.
R. E. Williams, Bloomington, Ill.
Leslie W. Quirk, 614 Jefferson St., Madison, Wis.
* * * * *
Answers to June Puzzles.
1. Diamond, pearl, opal, topaz, ruby, amethyst.
2. O
A P T
A L T A R
O P T I C A L
T A C I T
R A T
L
3. Dewey.
4. Systematic, phlegmatic, chromatic, acroamatic, diplomatic, pragmatic.
5. Rock-dock-lock-clock.
6. S A L A D
A L I C E
L I V R E
A C R I D
D E E D S
7. “Practice makes perfect.”
8. Lance.
The first five perfect solutions were received from:--
Elizabeth Warren, Harry J. Sanford, Eleanor M. Lavine,
Mary Folsom Pierce, John L. Crawford.
* * * * *
UNBOUNDED STATES.
The names of these states are mixed up. Can you straighten them?
Nisniscow.
Naidnai.
Nitmanose.
Nicolraaif.
Nazoair.
Naaiiousl.
--Charles C. Lynde.
* * * * *
THE MENAGERIE.
In the following paragraph there are the names of twenty
animals--spelled backwards.
It accidentally happens that the lumber now occasionally found in oil
regions every six or seven years is such that no Occidental country
produces. I am sure editors so agree. So omitting any explanation, I
merely state the fact. Tippoo-Tib bargains for all of it. Overflowing
with oil it is always in a bad muss. Oporto is the place to which it
is shipped. When it arrives whole machines are made from it, giving, I
presume, employment to many persons who are constantly on the go during
business hours, the parents and children working side by side. All
sorts of religionists there mix, Ebionites even being found among them,
who strive and fret to make converts to their faith, and they, as those
at the Po let names weigh more than deeds. I would not say this did I
know it to be false.
--R. E. Williams._
* * * * *
DIAMOND.
1, a consonant; 2, a serpent; 3, juvenility; 4, consumed;
5, a consonant.
--Lillian C----.
* * * * *
A NOVEL ACROSTIC.
If the words indicated below be written one beneath another, the finals
will spell a national holiday, and the initial letters will form the
plural of something which is used on that day.
A leaf of blank paper.
A dye.
A kind of ancient poetry.
Part of the head.
An animal.
A fresh water fish.
Likewise.
A leader.
A boy’s name spelled backwards.
A large bird.
A small brook.
Cunning.
--Katherine D. Salisbury.
[Illustration: WITH THE PUBLISHER]
WITH THE PUBLISHER
YOUTH
An Illustrated Monthly Journal for Boys and Girls
Edited by HERBERT LEONARD COGGINS
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well as in interest.
_TO CONTRIBUTORS_
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are the latest and best stories of the most popular writers for boys
and girls. They are beautifully illustrated and handsomely bound. The
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for any one to add to his library with little effort, and we trust that
a very large number of our subscribers will quickly avail themselves
of this special offer. This, of course, does not apply to those taking
advantage of our other subscription offers.
Earning Her Way By Mrs. Clarke Johnson
Her College Days By Mrs. Clarke Johnson
A Maid at King Alfred’s Court By Lucy Foster Madison
A Maid of the First Century By Lucy Foster Madison
A Yankee Girl in Old California By Evelyn Raymond
My Lady Barefoot By Evelyn Raymond
Dorothy Day By Julie M. Lippmann
Miss Wildfire By Julie M. Lippmann
An Odd Little Lass By Jessie E. Wright
An Every-day Heroine By Mary A. Denison
Uncrowning a King By Edward S. Ellis, A. M.
At the Siege of Quebec By James Otis
In the Days of Washington By William Murray Graydon
On Woodcove Island By Elbridge S. Brooks
Under the Tamaracks By Elbridge S. Brooks
The Wreck of the Sea Lion. By W. O. Stoddard
The Young Financier By W. O. Stoddard
True to His Trust By Edward S. Ellis, A. M.
Comrades True By Edward S. Ellis, A. M.
Among the Esquimaux By Edward S. Ellis, A. M.
The Campers Out By Edward S. Ellis, A. M.
The Young Gold Seekers. By Edward S. Ellis, A. M.
Andy’s Ward By James Otis
Chasing a Yacht By James Otis
The Braganza Diamond By James Otis
The Lost Galleon By W. Bert Foster
Exiled to Siberia By William Murray Graydon
The Lost Gold Mine By Frank H. Converse
A Cape Cod Boy By Sophie Swett
Making His Mark By Horatio Alger, Jr.
The Young Boatman By Horatio Alger, Jr.
The Odds Against Him By Horatio Alger, Jr.
Transcriber’s Notes:
A number of typographical errors have been corrected silently.
Archaic spellings have been retained.
Irregular closing quotes were not modernized.
Page 191 number of 51,000 immigrants is unreliable as the “1” is unclear.
Spelling of “Seesame and Lilies” has been corrected to “Sesame and Lilies”.
Cover image is in the public domain.