Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1896. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.
VOL. XVIII.--NO. 890. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
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[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF GLEN FREON, BY THE MARQUIS OF LORNE.
THE BEGINNING OF THE BATTLE BETWEEN HIGHLANDERS AND LOWLANDERS.]
BATTLE OF GLEN FREON.
BY THE MARQUIS OF LORNE.
This is how the country people still tell the story of the Tragedy of
the Youths, an incident of the time of James VI. of Scotland and I. of
England, about forty years before the sailing of the _Mayflower_ to
America:
There was great destruction brought on the MacGregors, and many lost
their lives, their lands, and their name. And the cause was this: The
widow of a MacGregor dwelt in a place called Tulach, at the nether part
of Glen Streatha. Her house was about half a mile from the place where
the abode of the chief MacGregor himself was. She had two sons, and
these, when they were but young, began to be pack dealers or peddlers,
going to the Lowlands to buy, and going through the Highlands to sell
their wares again. Once they went on a journey to Dumbarton to buy
goods, and on returning homewards they passed along the west side of
Loch Lomond. But as they tramped on by the lands of Sir Humphrey
Colquhoun,[1] of Luss, heavy snow fell, and the track became very
difficult to travel, for there were no roads in those days in the
Highlands that could be used for wheeled carriages or carts, and when
the foot-track was covered with snow a man had to be very well
acquainted with the district not to go astray. The two boys went on
until they reached Luss, a village on the banks of the beautiful Loch
Lomond. There they asked for food, tendering payment, and being asked
who they were, they owned that their name was MacGregor, for they did
not know how much the people whose hospitality they craved hated that
name. Neither for favor nor for payment would the Luss people give the
boys any food. The boys saw well how much they were disliked on account
of their race, and they became anxious to go away. Up Glen Luss and
through Glen-Na-Sreinge was the shortest way in those days for any one
to reach the head of Loch Lomond, but the distance was great and the
snow made the journey most difficult. On the east side of the loch the
most numerous clans were the Curries and the MacGregors, and they
occupied the country from Pollach to near the north end of Loch Lomond,
through what was called the Sho's, or Slope, near to the pass of
Balla-Na-Chatha. The Slope was very rough and difficult to traverse, and
its inhabitants had the reputation of being very fierce. The Slope of
Ben Lomond was called Croigchrosdain, and the people dwelling there were
distinguished by this name from the other MacGregors. The people of Luss
declared these men came frequently in their boats across the Loch to
steal cattle and take whatever they could lay their hands on, and that
when a raid had thus been made it was as much as a man's life was worth
to go to ask for restitution.
[1] The famous Virginian Calhoun came of this family.
It was therefore no wonder that the young lads were badly received, for
they had not disguised their names, and no man would help them to get
home. They consulted together and determined to try to get across the
loch, and went to a place called the Caolaig, where a boat was kept by a
man who, when payment seemed assured, undertook to ferry people over to
the other side. The boys begged that they might be put across the water,
but the night threatening storm and the ferryman disliking to cross,
they were refused. They begged for shelter, but this was also denied
them. Food there was none for them at Caolaig any more than at Luss.
Left by this harsh treatment to shift for themselves, they looked around
for some place where they might find refuge, and at last they found a
goat shelter, and went into this, and lay down in the cold and darkness,
waiting in fear until they thought every one had gone to rest before
they dared try to make a fire. When they thought that they would not be
seen they made search for fuel, and happened on an out-house where a
farmer had left some agricultural implements. The shafts and handles of
these the boys took, breaking them up for fire-wood. A plough that had a
good deal of wood in it they destroyed for fuel, and lit a fire, and
having caught a young goat, killed this and roasted it to satisfy their
hunger. All this had been done, as they supposed, without any one having
been able to notice them, for they had hidden their fire as much as they
could, and the snow and storm made them think themselves secure. But
some one saw the light, followed them, and seeing what they had done,
went to Rossdhu, and told Sir Humphrey Colquhoun that the MacGregors
were at their old work again. A band of men was quickly got together,
and the two youths were caught and taken to Sir Humphrey's place, and
there put in prison. A court was held, witnesses were examined, the case
against them fully proved, and they were sentenced to be hanged on a day
that was named. Whether any of their kindred were present at the trial
is not known, but in a very short time the news spread through the
country that the lads were to be executed, and the men of Glen Gyle and
Croigchrosdain resolved to go in a body under their chief to the place
of punishment and ask for the corpses of the lads to take them back with
them for burial in their own district. When the day arrived Sir Humphrey
had a large force of men besides those from his own estate. He caused
the two prisoners to be brought from the prison of the House of Rossdhu
to a knoll called in the Gaelic Tom-Na-Cruaich (Knoll of the Gallows), a
short distance from the Light Grey Brook, by the side of the highway.
The Colquhouns selected a fir-tree, which grew on the mound, to serve as
a gallows, and the two lads were made to stand up to be hung. But
something went wrong with the withes of the gallows, and the two lads
fell as soon as their weight was on the ropes, and were not much the
worse. Then a great shout went up from the MacGregors and Curries who
had come over the loch. "The sentence of the law is fulfilled. Let the
prisoners go." They rushed to the gallows, intending to rescue the lads,
but their numbers were small in comparison to the followers of Sir
Humphrey, whose men spoke insolently and contemptuously to them, while
they barred the way, and prevented any nearer approach to the place
where the lads lay. Meanwhile new withes or ropes had been adjusted, and
the prisoners were hung up again, and left to die, amid the cries of
their friends, who shouted and yelled beyond the crowd of the men Sir
Humphrey had closely surrounding the mound. When it was evident that the
lads were dead they were let down, and their heads were cut from their
trunks, and the heads were placed on stakes, one on each side of the
gate of Rossdhu. The men who had demanded their pardon went away full of
anger.
The tragedy that had taken place was detailed in all its sadness and
horror to the lads' clansmen wherever they could be found. Messengers
went from village to village recounting the story by the peat fires in
the little cottages, where under the thatched roofs and within the
unmortared walls the cows and the hens and the family lived together.
The messengers always began by saying that if any of the MacGregors had
lost any of their young men, they should go to the gate of Rossdhu
House, and see if in the features of the death heads on the posts on
each side of the gate they could discern the features of their loved
ones. The widow of Tulach in Glen Streatha heard the story, and anguish
came on her as she thought that this cruelty might have been dealt on
her children who had not returned when she expected them home. She made
ready speedily, and went over the moors, travelling without pausing
until she arrived near Rossdhu. She drew near to the gate and saw the
heads, and even from a distance she thought she recognized the shape of
her sons' heads, and coming close to the posts standing there with their
trophies on them, she saw that her forebodings were too true. She took
an opportunity, and had the heads taken down, and tied them up in two
pieces of cloth, and walked back, carrying a head in each hand. And
reaching her own glen she went to MacGregor's house, and laid down the
two heads at his feet, letting them out from the cloths which hid them,
and then burst into lamentation and tears, and at last told him how she
had carried them away with her. Then the chief, who knew and loved the
two youths, was greatly enraged with Sir Humphrey, and resolved to
encounter him. Before he proceeded on his designs he went to the Earl
of Argyll and asked his advice, and his counsel was that MacGregor
should ask to meet Sir Humphrey with a hundred men on each side, so that
an account might be given by the Colquhouns as to what had happened, and
the reasons for the cruel treatment of the lads. For, said the Earl, if
Sir Humphrey has no good reasons he may pay the old ransom called, from
the days of the Norse invasions, "eirig," or a fine for their deaths,
and all fighting be avoided. In any case, he counselled that MacGregor
should not be the first to begin to shed blood, unless in self-defence.
Then the chief went to Ardkinglass, where Mac Ian Riach (Campbell of
Ardkinglass) advised him to go and have an interview with Sir Humphrey,
saying that the MacGregors might go through the Ardkinglass lands and
have a night's lodging in Ganavin at the side of Loch Long, and that the
people there were to ferry the band over the loch on the day following
their arrival. All was carried out as had been suggested by the Earl,
and Sir Humphrey made answer that he would meet the MacGregor chief, and
tell the MacGregors of the crimes of the youths at the upper end of Glen
Freon on a Saturday, and that he desired to explain all that there might
be peace.
As soon as this answer had been conveyed to the district where Alexander
MacGregor had his followers, he assembled two hundred men, giving his
brother the command over one hundred, and himself taking the leadership
of the rest, and marched towards Luss. They left Glen Streatha on
Friday, and went through the Caothran of Glen Fine, and arrived at
Ardkinglass Castle. Then instead of going by the highway of the
Highlanders up between Ben-Nan-Luibhean (Hill of the Herbs) and
Ben-Tomadh, they went through the lands of Mac Ian Riach (Ardkinglass),
over the moors as far as Ganavin. There they got ferried across the loch
to a place called the Tmire Franyach (French Ridge). Landing, they
ascended by the slant of the moor, and passed the top of Sron Mhailein,
crossed the water of the Callanach at the Broad ford, and went on by the
highway of the Highlanders above the place of the Man of Tom-Bhui, until
they reached a brook called Alt-Na-Chle. They halted there to rest, and
took special note of the situation of this place, for the burn had a
very rough course, and formed the march between the land of Fionnart and
Tom-Bhui. There were two fords within a short distance of each other
near the Highlanders' way; but most of the bed of the torrent lay deep,
and abounded in deep hollows, the burn flowing in a series of falls from
a third of the distance from the top of the moor to the shore of Loch
Long. Although the two fords are narrow, yet it was over them that the
cattle were driven when the Highland caterans, or robbers, took spoil
from the Lowlands. The MacGregors thought that this impetuous burn's
course would give an excellent place where a reserve of men might be
left in case the Laird of Luss should prove false to them. So the
chief's brother was left there with one hundred men, while he went
himself with a like number to meet Sir Humphrey.
The place where the reserve men were thus placed in ambush, or at call,
was a remarkably secret one. There is a rock on the side of Fionnart of
the ford of the highway of the Highlanders, which, although of no great
height, is so wall-like that no one can climb up the face of it. It is
on the moorland side of the track, and there is a little hillock on the
top of it, and at the top of this hillock the waterfall of Alt-Na-Chle
flows with a bend round it, and returns again beneath it to the
Highlanders' way. The water falls steeply below this pass, and again
sixty paces lower, where there is a spot where the torrent can be
passed, but this is practically only at these so-called fords, for below
there is no good passage. John MacGregor and the band selected to remain
at the burn went up and concealed themselves behind the hillock, where
they were near enough to the track to throw stones upon it, although
they could not be seen where they lay. Alexander of Glen Streatha, when
he had seen his brother and his men thus posted, went on to the head of
Glen Freon for the tryst. The anticipated meeting with the Colquhouns
had been much discussed in the country, not only on Loch Lomond side,
but about the banks of Clyde. The MacGregors had the name of being a
fierce people, and as the date of the conference was known, and many
thought there might be fighting, a great crowd gathered to see what
would come of the meeting.
In the town of Dumbarton there was a seminary, and the teachers and
students, participating in the curiosity aroused by the event, went in a
body to see what might happen. Many citizens of Dumbarton followed, and
a hundred men of the Clan-Na-Liendaig marched from that town to help Sir
Humphrey, should he need support. One of the Buchanan lairds marched
also thence with a number of the Clan Cameron and Clan Walter to Glen
Freon. Thus when Sir Humphrey numbered his men he found he had over four
hundred, but he and his friends arranged that he should go forward with
only one hundred, and that the other three hundred should be hidden
behind a hill, ready to move up at a signal, and this signal should be
given if the MacGregor chief did not come to terms. The hill behind
which Sir Humphrey's reserve was concealed was between the hill of Glen
Freon and a place called the Birch Clumps, not far from a part of the
Highland way by which they supposed the MacGregors would return home.
Sir Humphrey meanwhile marched on with his band of a little over one
hundred men, and stood waiting at the place where he had agreed to meet
MacGregor, for he was anxious to put an end to the disagreements and
troubles which had been a cause of warfare and sorrow to both Lowlanders
and Highlanders. MacGregor was soon seen approaching, and both bands
arrayed themselves in ranks, and stood opposite to each other and not
far apart. The Lowlanders wore their great flat bonnets of blue cloth,
and were clad in long jackets and short hose with gray coarse stockings;
the Highlanders, in bonnets also of blue, but of smaller size, and they
all wore red tartan, most of them in kilts, though others had tartan
tight-fitting trousers.
Sir Humphrey went forward into the space between, and there met
MacGregor, who likewise advanced alone, with an eagle's plume in his
bonnet, and the two began to confer together. What passed is not exactly
known, but the conversation lasted long, and then the chief was seen to
turn away from Sir Humphrey, and go to his own men, who stood in their
red dresses on the hill-side, and the listening crowds of Lowland
citizens and Sir Humphrey's Lowland-clad band heard the chief's words to
his men, as he said, "We will go home. There is to be no bloodshed in
the mean time." The MacGregors turned and began their return march, but
instead of going by the Highland way they took a short way through the
glens which lay above Sron Glen Freon, and they thus avoided altogether
passing the Colquhoun men who were lying in reserve behind the hill. Sir
Humphrey and his friends now held a consultation quickly with each
other, and gave orders to those men who were leisurely following the
MacGregors' march. When these orders were delivered it was seen that the
Lowlanders quickened their pace, and a shout went up from them, and Sir
Humphrey's reserve of men rose and joined the advance and pursued the
MacGregors, who fled. The Alt-Na-Chle burn, where they had left their
supports, was nearly four miles away. The Highlanders ran on as fast as
they could, anxious to reach their comrades some time before the
pursuers could come up, so that they could have breath for the fight,
and get into order to receive the attack, which they now saw was to be
made upon them. This they accomplished. They got into order of battle,
and were standing to their arms on the other side of the two fords a
short time before the Colquhoun force arrived at the banks of the burn,
which presented such difficulties to the pursuers that the disparity in
numbers was well balanced by the nature of the position the chief had
gained. So much was this the case that the reserve was told to remain in
ambush until the fight should grow hot. The Colquhouns, pausing for a
moment, got their men in a column, and attempted to rush the ford and
bank beyond, but they could only advance a few at a time, the hill on
the other side giving great advantage to the defence, and the first men
who got over were all killed without a single one of the MacGregors
being harmed. There were seven very brave men among the Colquhouns.
These men were all brothers, and they volunteered to head the attack,
that a breach might be made through the MacGregors' line, but the
devoted brothers were all slain, and lay together in a heap by the side
of the water of the burn, which gave to the pass in after-times the name
of the Brothers Ford.
Now when many of the pursuers were already lying heaped together in the
pass, the chief called to his brother and the hundred who were with him,
still lying beyond the knoll. These men as they rose had but to spring
forward a few steps to gain the top of the rock overhanging the Highland
way, and when they thus crowned the green summit they saw under the rock
wall below them a number of the Colquhouns at the base of the waterfall.
They plied their bows sharply now, sending down their arrows on the
pursuers, who, pent together, could not escape them. Every shaft told,
and the Colquhouns, despairing of forcing the ascent, gave way and fled
back, the MacGregors crossing over after them and keeping above them as
they ran along the hill face, continuing their arrow fire and doing much
hurt. The whole crowd of pursuers and pursued ran aslant the moor until
they reached a little plain called Tom-Na-Folaich (or the Little Bush
and of the Rank Grass), where the Colquhouns, turning, attacked the
nearest of their enemies, who gave way in their turn, running over the
hill to a place where there was a gap between two ridges of rock. There
they faced round, filling up the gap. The Colquhouns hurried onward
until they were nearly within sword-stroke of their enemies. Here again
the skill of the Highland bowmen decided matters, for crossing the top
of the rock on the left of the Lowlanders they killed a great number,
while they could not be much harmed themselves. In the Gaelic speech
that gap is still called the Chasm of Misfortune, and the rock is yet
known as the Bowmen's Crag. The Lowlanders gave way. Meanwhile the
remainder of them, under Sir Humphrey, had been fighting the rest of the
Highlanders, and a like result had overtaken them. All the MacGregors
were now in pursuit of the Colquhouns, running along the Highland way
over the large brook, the Alt-Mor, at the smithy's ford, and when some
distance beyond, an unfortunate minister, who was a teacher at the
seminary of Dumbarton, was overtaken as he was fleeing with the people
who had rashly come out as spectators, and was killed. The chief's
brother happened to be pursuing a young man of the Clan-Na-Liondaig who
had been with Sir Humphrey, and the young fellow turned on the
chieftain, and cut him down near a great gray stone that was often
pointed out as marking the Highland chieftain's death-place. At the head
of Glen Freon the Colquhouns attempted to rally, by the persuasions of
Sir Humphrey, but he could not get them into any order until they
arrived at a large level field called Acha Haich. Here he managed to get
them again into array, but the Highlanders, seeing them make a stand,
halted to form their line, and quickly attacked. Hardly a minute passed
before Sir Humphrey's men turned their backs, and all that can be said
of what followed is that chase and flight went streaming down both sides
of Glen Freon.
When the rout reached the middle of the glen the victors, who were
slaying as they went, overtook the principal of the seminary, who with
his students were showing every sign of terror. But the MacGregors took
no heed of them. The principal hastened to the chief, and said to him,
"These youths are unarmed and in great fear. Now that you have won the
day, I intrust them to your forbearance." There was a barn near the
place where they stood, and the chief ordered them into the barn,
putting over them as guard a man named Black Hugh of the Dhu-Leitir, who
came from his own Glen Streatha. It is said that this man was not a
MacGregor, but a MacCalister, who had gone from the district where his
youth was spent to the MacGregor country, taking their name on account
of some crime that he had committed.
He heard his chief now say to him, "Hugh, here are thirty-seven youths.
Stand at the door. I confide them to you. Take good care of them," and
as he obeyed he saw his chief hurry on in the pursuit. Hugh began his
sentry duty, and allowed none of the youths to leave the barn, believing
that they should be treated as prisoners; but as the lads could speak no
Gaelic, and Hugh no English, there was not much attempt at communication
between them.
We will follow the pursuit from which Hugh was debarred by his duties as
jailer. The MacGregors harassed the Colquhouns in their retreat
persistently, sparing none whom they found with arms in their hands, and
among these were many of the citizens of Dumbarton. Of the incidents of
the pursuit, men remember that at Tigh-Na-Goaithe, or the House of the
Winds, in the glen, one of the MacGregors took note of a gentleman among
the Colquhouns who was on horseback. He rushed at the rider, who fled,
yet the Highlander was so swift of foot that he kept up with the pace of
the horse all the way between the place called the Hill of the Wind and
the waterfall of the Finglass. The mounted officer missed a passage or
ford which existed, and came to a place where it was difficult to cross
the burn's ravine, called the "churn." It was about twenty feet in
depth, and there was a pool below, the chasm being about ten feet broad
above and sixteen feet below. The horse took the leap, and bad as was
the take off, carried his rider across in safety. The pursuer could not
take the leap, but shot an arrow, which missed the rider, who coolly
dismounted, picked up the arrow, and shot it back from his own bow,
killing the man who had first shot it.
At the lower part of the glen Sir Humphrey's people scattered widely,
each trying to save his own life. Some went the way of Luss, others fled
towards the Leven. But MacGregor did not care to see his men disperse
themselves so widely, and stopped the pursuit. He called them to him,
and told them it was now best to return the road they had come. They
obeyed him, and the march home was commenced. When they were ascending
the upper part of Blar-Na-Chietein (or the Plain of April) the piper
struck up, playing an extemporized tune, which was known afterwards as
the "Bout of Spoils on Colquhoun." They went along rejoicing, but they
soon had cause for grief.
MacGregor now observed Black Hugh among his followers, and inquired of
him, "What have you done with the young lads whom I intrusted to you?"
Hugh replied by drawing a dirk from his belt, and shaking it above his
head, said, "Ask that dirk and God's mercy what has become of them!"
"May God look on us!" said MacGregor. "If you have killed the lads, no
mention shall be made of a MacGregor henceforth." He hurried to the
barn, and there were all the youths lying where they had been butchered,
cold in their blood! The chief turned angrily and called up Black Hugh.
"Why have you done this?"
And Hugh answered: "After the youths had been for a time in the barn
they became turbulent, I do not know why; but they spoke a great deal of
English, and I could not understand a word of what they said, but I
shook the dirk at them and told them to keep quiet in Gaelic, which they
should have understood, and I asked, and I asked, and I asked them to
keep quiet, but they would not, and attempted to get out in spite of me.
It seemed to me that I might just as well lose my own life as let a
prisoner escape; and as they came forward one by one to get out I killed
them as quickly as they got within reach. I do not know what it means,
but every one as he was pierced with the dirk seemed to me to cry out a
sound like 'God's mercy.'"
"It was not to hurt them or keep them prisoners that I sent you there,
but to protect them from harm," sternly replied MacGregor.
It was only then that Hugh perceived that he had blundered. All the
MacGregors were sorrowful at the event, and the chief himself deeply
distressed. They continued their march in gloom, taking home with them
the body of the chief's brother, for they found him where he had fallen
on the hill-side. Although the fight has been named after the glen, it
was really at Alt-Na-Chle that it began, about four miles from the glen,
and a much larger number of the Colquhouns were slain on the land of
Fionnart than at the head of the glen, but the pursuit did not take them
through Glen Freon.
After the battle, and on the retreat of the Highlanders, the Lowland
party were greatly enraged. They went and buried the dead, and kept
their bloody shirts that they might be shown to the King, and Sir
Humphrey and his friends got 220 women to ride to Edinburgh, each woman
carrying on a spear as a banner a blood-stained shirt which she said had
belonged to a man massacred by the MacGregors. The youths who had been
killed by Hugh were of good parentage, and the indignation caused by
their death was not allowed to sleep by their kinsfolk and tutors. The
King was greatly enraged against the MacGregors, having had a hatred of
them on account of old strifes. He appointed a day for a court of
justice, and MacGregor was summoned, but durst not appear. Neither was
there any one to speak for him, and in his absence he and his clan were
sentenced to lose their lands and name.
[Illustration: "WHO DONE THAT?" SHOUTED MR. CUMMINGS.]
THAT DISREPUTABLE SCHOOL-HOUSE STOVE.
BY ARTHUR WILLIS COLTON.
The district school-house in Hagar was very old, but it never looked so,
on account of the paint. When the Selectmen concluded not to do
something that ought to be done, because it would cost too much, they
violently painted the school-house instead. It relieved their feelings
and did not cost too much. Also, the school-house standing prominently
by the cross-roads, it gave a thrifty appearance to the village.
The inside of the school-house was seldom painted by the violent
Selectmen, or its individuality interfered with in any way. Its desks
became more whittled from year to year, its ceiling smokier, and its
blackboards dingier with adding and subtracting. The water-pail that
stood over the cellar stairs was often upset for different reasons, so
that now and then there was a new water-pail. The stove stood in front
of the teacher's desk, and, on cold days, an enormous distance from the
back seats. The stove-pipe was strung along the ceiling on precarious
wires.
This stove was not an adequate stove. The sphere of its influence fell
short of the back seats. It was an uncertain and variable stove. It
sulked; sometimes it dropped legs and severed connections with the pipe.
On windy days it shook, roared, threw sparks, and interrupted lessons.
The Selectmen, namely, Deacon Crockett, Harvey Cummings, and Mr.
Atherton Bell--who had been to the Legislature--were told that the stove
was not an adequate stove, and denounced the school-house as a source of
endless expense.
In the fall and spring the school was taught by different young ladies,
who were much to be pitied. In the winter it was taught by a man--for
some years by a man named Pollock, who had ideas. When the school became
very unruly he flung the bell on the floor to produce silence. It was a
large yellow-colored bell. When it was rung, the sound of it was as the
sound of lamentation, and when it was flung on the floor it made us
think of a number of funerals all mixed up. Mr. Pollock also taught
algebra to those whom he thought deserved it; that was his idea of
rewarding merit. It seemed to us that his idea was wrong.
But this story which I have to tell is not about the school in general,
but a particular story intended to bring out a moral about the putting
of horse-chestnuts in a stove, namely, that it is very revolutionary,
and a good way to play nihilists, if you wish to play nihilists. It
concerns one Willy Flint, who was an imp; not one of those nervous black
little things, however, such as you would expect an imp to be. He had
light hair, rather thin red eyelids, and no nerves; but for all that he
was an imp. His sister's name was Angelica Bertina and some other names.
She also was an imp. I believe she was, or grew up to be, a very pretty
girl, but at that time I had no opinion of such matters.
* * * * *
Angelica kicked the snow against the entry-door and mentioned a desire
to smash things. She felt that way, perhaps, more often than most
people, but we all know how it is when it is a relief, although nothing
in particular has happened, to get a large club and pound a rock. It is
partly surplus energy and partly discontent. Bobby Bell stared at
Angelica admiringly. It was the noon-hour. Willy Flint reached the
bottom of his lunch-pail, shook up the crumbs, and fitted it deftly on
the head of Bobby Bell, who escaped and ran into Angelica. Angelica
collared him and shook him out of the dinner-pail, but respectfully, for
Bobby Bell was a gentleman, though very little, and though only five or
six years old, greatly admired Angelica.
"You let Bobby alone," snapped Angelica; but Willy Flint was thinking of
something else. Angelica, holding Bobby by the collar, brushed off the
crumbs, and Bobby became contented and conversational.
"My fatha's comin' to thee the thtove," he announced.
"How do you know?" asked Willy Flint, blinking his red eyelids.
"My fatha thaid tho. Tho'th Deacon Cwockett. Tho'th Mithta Cummin'.
Tho'th my fatha."
Willy Flint blinked his eyelids at Bobby Bell for some minutes, and
then, without looking to the right or left, started on a run through the
drifts to the road and along the road eastward. The entire school
stopped snowballing and watched him in dumb amazement. Just as he turned
into the Flints' gate, a quarter of a mile away, Mr. Pollock came to the
entry and rang the lamentable bell. Therefore Willy Flint was late, and
had to do a strange sum, involving two men who exchanged commodities in
such a manner as never ought to be done in this world.
* * * * *
Willy Flint sat, pretending to do this sum, on the seat behind the
stove, because he was an imp, and Mr. Pollock wished to keep an eye on
him. The scholars on the back seats were good but cold; those in between
were middling. Angelica Bertina was reciting geography, which she did
very well. I suppose it practised her memory to remember her name. When
one can say Angelica Bertina and the other names easily, it helps one
out with Liberia and Porto Rico.
Willy Flint looked at Mr. Pollock, who looked at him, and asked Angelica
about the products of Liberia. Willy Flint sighed despondently and drew
spindle-legged people on his slate. Angelica stated the products of
Liberia to be coffee, ivory, and rofia-palm fibre, and Mr. Pollock did
not deny it, though of course rofia-palm fibre belongs with Madagascar
and not with Liberia. He was wondering what Willy Flint was about to do.
Angelica saw his abstracted eye and went on, "Arrowroot, sugar,
chewing-gum."
Here Moses Durfey giggled and Mr. Pollock started.
"What's that?"
"Cotton," said Angelica, "cocoa, oranges, and lemons."
"Ah," said Mr. Pollock. "Correct."
And Willy Flint looked more cheerful.
This was the situation when the Selectmen came: the stove behaving in
various ways, Willy Flint considering what he was about to do, Mr.
Pollock wondering what that was, and Angelica reciting geography.
There was a loud knock at the entry-door, and Mr. Pollock and the entire
school, with the exception of Willy Flint and Angelica, left whatever
they were doing, and concentrated their minds on the door. Willy Flint
leaned swiftly forward and slipped something through the damper of the
stove. Angelica cast a glance after Mr. Pollock, closed her eyes, and
recited in a loud voice:
"Abyssinia, eastern Africa, three kingdoms--Shoa, Tigre, and Amhara,
elevated table-land, of which majority of people--m-m-m-m--pastoral
pursuits."
Willy Flint again leaned forward and slipped something through the
damper.
"Ah!" said Mr. Pollock, at the door. "Come in." And the violent
Selectmen entered, namely, Deacon Crockett, Harvey Cummings, and Mr.
Atherton Bell--who had been to the Legislature. Again Willy Flint leaned
forward.
"Exports, skins," shouted Angelica, "ivory, gums--"
"Angelica," said Mr. Pollock, sternly--"Angelica Flint, that will do."
And Angelica, with an eye on Willy's movements, thought that very likely
it might.
"We've come to see about that stove," said the fluent Mr. Atherton Bell.
"Now I don't see anything the matter with the stove. Do you, Deacon? It
appears to me to have an excellent draught."
Deacon Crockett nodded gloomily.
"Furs rate," said Mr. Cummings.
"A good serviceable stove," said Mr. Atherton Bell.
Bang! went something in the stove; boom! crack! bang!
The top of the stove rose and danced about in an angular manner. The
pipe came down and covered Deacon Crockett and Willy Flint impartially
with soot. Legs went here and there. The door bounced off, followed by
ashes and coals, and smote Mr. Cummings sorely on the foot. Then the
stove settled down, propped only by one leg plainly showing and
declaring itself the most disreputable stove in the town of Hagar; and
the school resolved itself into anarchy, which proves just what all wise
men say, that nihilism results in anarchy.
"Who done that?" shouted Mr. Cummings, angrily. Deacon Crockett said
nothing, but glared. Willy Flint, being also covered with soot, looked
in every respect like the down-trodden victim of conspiracy. Mr. Pollock
wiped his glasses, which meant that he intended to maintain his presence
of mind; and Mr. Atherton Bell, whom neither soot had touched nor flying
missile smitten anywhere, seeing the misfortunes of his colleagues,
immediately saw also the humor of the thing in a broad and liberal
manner, thumped his sides and laughed loudly.
"Now, Harvey, tut, tut! Now, deacon--"
Then Bobby Bell, who greatly admired his father, joined in shrilly; then
the rest of the school saw the humor of it too. Mr. Cummings, polishing
his toe, smiled feebly. Mr. Pollock's eyes, as he brushed the Deacon's
back with the broom, twinkled behind his glasses. The only persons who
seemed really chagrined were Deacon Crockett and Willy Flint. Such it is
to have an eye for the humor of a thing.
"Why--why," gasped Mr. Atherton Bell, "Pollock--Pollock--you don't mean
to tell me it acts like this--I might say--customarily?"
Mr. Pollock wiped his glasses slowly. "No," he said, "I never saw it act
just like that before--not so badly as that."
And all the school agreed that it had never acted so badly as that
before.
* * * * *
And so it came about, what with Mr. Atherton Bell's sense of humor and
the intense dislike which Harvey Cummings conceived for the ancient
stove, that a new stove was put in--a large flat-topped satisfactory
stove on which could be baked nearly a quart of chestnuts.
I remember distinctly how Chub Leroy, Moses Durfey, and I argued it
over, and concluded that Willy Flint was to be a nihilist. After that we
collected horse-chestnuts, and did things with them for which Moses
Durfey was spanked. And Angelica, whose language was vigorous, like her
stride, remarked that Mr. Pollock was "game." He was, in fact, a very
honest and kindly gentleman, who always maintained his presence of mind,
and that was about what Angelica meant.
FRENCH BOYS' GAMES.
The games of the children of France are the games of the children of the
world--for games are the same all the world over.
This discovery is a great blow to your patriotic feeling of
proprietorship in them. "Hide-and-Seek" and "Blind-Man's-Buff" are as
much American to us as "The Star-spangled Banner" and "Yankee Doodle."
English children might perhaps know them, because the English are our
cousins and speak our language; but they had certainly never got so far
from home as across the Channel. And now, when you begin to look into
the subject, you find that "Hide-and-Seek" is represented in one of the
old paintings found in the ruins of Herculaneum, and that not only
children, but grown people as well, played this fascinating game in
India long before we Americans were born or thought of. Rousselet, a
French traveller who wrote about India, says that an Indian Emperor in
the sixteenth century built a palace expressly for playing it. The
palace contained a wonderful labyrinth in marble, and little cabinets
for people to hide in, with a marble pillow in the centre for a goal.
And "Blind-Man's-Buff" is equally of very ancient lineage, and is really
a French game, though it is not called by that name in France. This is
the way it came to be invented: In the year 999 Robert, the son of Hugh
Capet, had attached to his service a warrior named Colin, surnamed
Maillard, or Mallet, because a mallet was his favorite weapon. In a
campaign against the Count of Louvain, Colin Maillard had his eyes put
out; but he kept on fighting, guided by his squires. So, in memory of
his bravery, King Robert established a military game, a sort of
tournament named after him, which was nothing more nor less than
"Blind-Man's-Buff." One of the titles to distinction of the celebrated
crusader Godfrey de Bouillon was his having kept successfully the rôle
of Colin Maillard five times.
Bowling is another very old French game, and the French word _boulevard_
comes from it. It is made up of _boule_, or bowls, and _vert_, or green;
so that the word means "the green bowling-place." The celebrated French
boulevards, overhung by their green trees, were once upon a time the
places where people congregated to bowl, and you can see how easily
_vert_ became _vart_, and how that was changed again into _vard_. Even
nowadays one sometimes sees it written in old signs _boulevart_.
So in nearly all of the French games we find some of our old favorites,
only changed more or less, according to the imagination of the people
who have played them. The French are very imaginative, and the children
always personify something or somebody in their games. For instance,
"Tag," which is as popular here as at home, becomes "Chat," or "Cat."
The person who is "it" is always a cat, and the others playing are
generally supposed to be mice. There are several varieties of "Chat,"
such as "Chat perché" and "Chat coupé." In "Chat perché" the mouse is
allowed to perch on anything it pleases, and is safe so long as it can
hang on. Or the cat perches, and the mice watch the moment when the cat
can no longer hold on and must fall. Generally the players agree that
nobody is to be kept perched too long at a time. In "Chat coupé," the
person who is cat chooses one person to run after. Any one else playing
may cut in between the two running, when the cat changes her course to
run after him.
Girls play "La Mère Gigogne," a running game in which one of the players
is chosen to be the old Mother Gigogne. A line is traced, or some sort
of boundary is decided on, behind which la Mère Gigogne is supposed to
live. She calls out "La Mère Gigogne va sortir" (Mother Gigogne is going
out), and then makes a dive for the children, who run as hard as they
can with the mother Gigogne after them. The children, as they are caught
one after the other, are put inside the boundary, and must take hold of
hands in a line until all are taken. This line can bar the passage of
the others, so the Mother Gigogne can catch them more easily. This is a
favorite game in the girls' _pensions_ or schools, and in the _lycées_
and common schools both girls and boys alike play the "Jen de Barres,"
or "Prisoner's Base."
"Prisoner's Base" is exactly like our own "Prisoner's Base," and perhaps
it may interest you to know that this game was invented by the Greeks
about five hundred years before Christ. That and "Theque" are perhaps
the two favorite boys' games in France. "Theque" is a kind of feeble
imitation of our baseball, played in a babyish sort of way that would
make an American college team faint. Indeed it is only lately that they
are beginning to realize in France that boys need a certain amount of
athletics to make them healthy and manly, and are trying to encourage
out-door sports in all the schools. There has recently been held in
Paris a grand international congress to promote the re-establishment of
the old Olympic games, but exactly what these re-established Olympic
games are going to be it is too early to say yet. Meanwhile lawn-tennis
is getting to be as popular in France as at home, and croquet is a
perpetual favorite.
The French have all sorts of pretty rounds, like the charming old "Pont
d'Avignon"--when they used to dance "en rond"--which is not so popular
as a round now as it used to be in the olden time; but there are many
others. Instead of "Little Sally Waters," all the "babies in our block"
in Paris would sing, "J'ai un joli bouquet, à qui le donnerai-je?" (I
have a charming bouquet, to whom shall I give it?) or "Nous n'irons plus
au bois."
Perhaps this last is the most popular of the French rounds, so that it
is given in full. The idea is something like this: "We will go no more
to the wood, for all the laurels are cut. But the beautiful one I
present to you will go and pick them up. Enter into the dance, sing and
waltz, and embrace the one that you love the best."
"Nous n'irons plus au bois,
Les lauriers sont coupés;
La belle que voilà ira les ramasser.
Entrez dans la danse;
Voyez comme on danse;
Chantez, valsez, embrassez celle que vous aimez."
Another game that is a sort of round is called "Mon beau Guillaume." All
the players form a circle, while "handsome William" stands in the
centre. Then he asks, "Where are you going, mes belles dames?" And the
belles dames answer that they are going to take a walk. "Mes belles
dames, you will wear out your slippers." "Mon beau Guillaume, you will
mend them for us." "Mes belles dames, and who will pay me for it?" "The
one that you catch." Then beau Guillaume closes his eyes, and the circle
turns around very fast three times, when beau Guillaume must catch
somebody and guess who it is.
The French play some pretty in-door games which are not known in
America, a favorite of which is "Why am I on the sellete?" _Sellette_
means literally "stool," and it is represented by a chair in the centre
of the room. One person goes out, while another of the players goes
around and asks each one why So-and-so is "on the sellette." When all
the answers are given, the player who has gone out is called in, and
takes his place on the chair. "Why am I on the sellette?" he asks, and
the person who has collected the answers gives one after another, while
the person in the centre tries to guess who are their authors. You can
see that all the fun of this game, like that of many others, depends
upon the cleverness of the players, for each one tries to make a witty
hit in his answer at some characteristic or some event in the life of
the person in question that is known to the speaker alone. If the person
on the sellette guesses the author of the answer, the latter takes his
place on the sellette.
"If I were a little piece of paper, what would you do with me?" is
another game of the same sort, where the interest depends on the
cleverness of the answers. "I'd make you into a bank-note." "I'd make
you into a love-letter." You can see how an endless number of bright
replies is possible. "I've lost my valise--what was there in it?" is
another, in which any little foible or characteristic of the questioner
is good-naturedly hit off. "Pigeon, vole, oiseau, vole," is a game very
much like our "Simon says thumbs up." You twirl your two forefingers and
put them down on your knees, saying, "Pigeon, fly, bird, fly," etc. But
if you say "rabbit, fly," or any other animal that hasn't wings, and any
fingers go down, their owners must give a forfeit.
And now to end with one more game, "Marriage and Divorce." All the
players but one form in couples, one behind the other. The one left out
stands in front of them in this way .::: and claps his hands three
times, when the last two players run, one on one side and one on the
other, and try to come together again and join hands behind the one
standing alone before he shall have been able to catch either one of
them. If he does not succeed in doing this the couple are still married,
and take their place at the head of the others. If he succeeds, the one
caught takes his place, and he "marries" the other, and takes his place
with his bride at the head.
IMPORTANT "TRIFLES" ON WAR-SHIPS.
BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.
I.
Suppose that a state of war exists between the United States and some
other country well supplied with modern war-ships. Suppose, also, that
one of our best battle-ships--like the _Kentucky_, soon to be built--is
cruising off New York Harbor. A monster battle-ship of the enemy
appears, and the ships are to fight until one is sunk or conquered. The
alarm for general quarters has sounded. Every gun is loaded; the decks
are cleared; ammunition is ready for instant use. The captain has taken
his place in the conning-tower. The enemy approaches. The signal runs
through the ship, "Stand by to fire!"
When the enemy gets within 3000 yards, the _Kentucky_'s 13-inch forward
guns will each hurl a monster bullet, weighing more than a thousand
pounds, at the other vessel. Not a shot must be fired until the enemy is
exactly 3000 yards away. Both ships are moving swiftly. In less than one
second the enemy will be exactly 3000 yards off. An awful roar follows.
A tongue of fire, followed by a rolling, bounding ball of smoke, darts
from a great cannon. Nearly a quarter of a mile away the eye can see the
half-ton projectile darting straight toward the other ship. It hits the
very place it was intended to hit. Half a dozen such shots, or perhaps
fewer, may send the other vessel to the bottom. The battle rages. Shot
after shot is fired, and finally one vessel hoists the white flag, or
careens, and the order is given for every man to save himself as she
plunges to the bottom.
[Illustration: THE RANGE-FINDER.]
Marvellous as the shooting has been, still more marvellous is the way it
has been done. The gunners have fired without seeing, or even looking to
see, the other ship. They have fired by looking rather at little dials
close by each gun. They have aimed each gun without trying to see the
enemy. Still, each shot goes straight to the mark, and the havoc is
terrific. How is it all done? Long before the firing began you might
have observed a sailor-man, half-way up each mast of the battle-ship,
looking at the enemy through a telescope. Attached to each telescope are
a telephone-receiver and mouth-piece. The receiver is fitted to the
sailor-man's head, and the mouth-piece comes close to his lips as he
looks through the telescope. One of the sailor-men says to the other,
through the telephone:
"I am looking at the forward smoke-pipe. Keep your eye on that until I
tell you to change."