CHAPTER XVI._Harper's Round Table, April 14, 1896

ESCAPE OF THE FIRST MATE AND CREW.

The situation certainly looked hopeless for our lads, and the men on the

sloop were already shouting derisively at them. Alaric caught another

mental glimpse of the government prison, and even Bonny's stout heart

experienced an instant of despair. He was still standing in the stern of

the dinghy and holding the oar that he had used in sculling. Moved by a

sudden impulse, and just as the extended boat-hook was dropping over the

stern of the dinghy, he struck it a smart blow with his oar, and had the

good fortune to send it whirling from the sailor's grasp. With a second

quick motion the lad set his oar against the stern of the yawl, that was

now within four feet of him, and gave a vigorous shove. The slight

headway of the heavy craft was checked, and the lighter dinghy forged

ahead.

"Oh, you will, will you, you young rascal?" cried the sailor, angrily,

as he leaped back to his thwart, and bent to his oar with furious

energy. His companion followed his example, and under the impetus of

their powerful strokes the yawl sprang forward. At the same time Bonny,

facing backward, and working his oar with both hands, was sculling so

sturdily that the dinghy rocked from side to side until it seemed to

Alaric that she must certainly capsize. She was making such splendid

headway, though, that the much heavier yawl could not gain an inch. Its

crew, unable to see the fugitive dinghy without turning their heads, and

having no one to steer for them, were placed at a disadvantage that

Bonny was quick to detect.

Watching his opportunity, he caused his craft to swerve sharply to one

side, and the yawl holding her original course for some seconds before

his manoeuvre was discovered, his lead was thus materially increased.

Just as Bonny was ready to drop his oar from exhaustion a shrill,

long-drawn whistle sounded from the now distant beach. Its effect on the

crew of the yawl was magical. They stopped rowing, looked at each other,

and consulted. Then they gazed at the retreating dinghy and hesitated.

They felt it to be their duty to continue the pursuit, but they also

knew the penalty for disobeying an order from a superior, and that

whistle was an unmistakable order for them to go back.

The cutter's third Lieutenant had returned from his expedition into the

woods with three wretched Chinamen, whom, despite their eagerly produced

certificates, he had seen fit to make prisoners. He was amazed to find

the yawl gone from where he had left it, and the details of the chase in

which it was engaged being hidden from him by the intervening sloop, he

gave the whistle signal for its immediate return.

As the crew of the yawl hesitated between duty and obedience the

peremptory whistle order was repeated louder and shriller than before.

This decided the wavering sailors, and they reluctantly turned their

boat.

As for the fugitives, they could hardly believe the evidence of their

senses. Was the chase indeed given over, and were they free to go where

they pleased? It seemed incredible. Just as they were on the point of

being captured, too, for Bonny now confided to Alaric that he couldn't

have held out at that pace one minute longer. As he said this the tired

lad sat down for a short rest.

Almost immediately he again sprang to this feet, and thrusting his oar

overboard, began to scull with one hand. "It won't do for us to be

loafing here," he explained, "for I expect those fellows have been

called back so that the whole crowd can chase us in the sloop."

"Oh, I hope not," said Alaric; "I'm tired of running away."

"So am I," laughed Bonny--"tired in more ways than one; but if fellows

bigger than we are will insist on chasing us, I don't see that there is

anything for us to do but run. There! thank goodness we've rounded the

point at last, and got out of sight of them for a while at any rate."

"Where are you going now, and what do you propose to do next?" asked

Alaric, who, fully realizing his own helplessness in this situation, was

willing to leave the whole scheme of escape to his more experienced

companion.

"That's what I'm wondering. Of course it won't do to stay out here very

long, for in less than fifteen minutes the sloop will be shoving her

nose around that point. Nor it wouldn't be any use to try and get to

Tacoma--at least not yet a while--for that's where they'll be most

likely to hunt for us. So I think we'd better cross the channel, turn

our boat adrift, and make our way overland to Skookum John's camp. It

isn't very sweet-smelling, and they don't feed you any too well--that

is, not according to our ideas--but just because it is such a mean kind

of a place no one will ever think of looking for us there. Besides,

Skookum's a very decent sort of a chap, and he'll keep us posted on all

that happens in the bay. So if you don't mind roughing it a bit--"

"No, indeed," interrupted Alaric, eagerly. "I don't mind it at all. In

fact, that is just what I want to do most of anything, and I've always

wished I could live in a real Indian camp. The only Indians I ever saw

were in the Wild West Show in Paris."

"Have you been to Paris?" asked Bonny, wonderingly.

"Yes, of course, I was there for-- I mean yes, I've been there. But,

Bonny, what makes you think of turning this boat adrift? Wouldn't we

find her useful?"

"I suppose we might; but she isn't our boat, you know, and you wouldn't

keep a boat that didn't belong to you just because it might prove

useful, would you?"

"No, certainly not," replied Alaric, rather surprised to have his

companion take this view of the question. "I would try and hand her over

to the rightful owner."

"So would I," agreed Bonny, "if I knew who he was; but after what has

just happened I don't know, and so I am going to turn her adrift in the

hope that he will find her. Besides, it wouldn't be safe to leave her on

shore, because she would show anybody who happened to be looking for us

just where we had landed."

"That's a much better reason than the other," said Alaric.

During this conversation the dinghy had been urged steadily across the

channel, and was now run up to a bold bank, where the boys disembarked.

After removing Alaric's bag and the several cans of provisions so

thoughtfully furnished them by Captain Duff, Bonny gave the boat a push

out into the channel, down which the ebbing tide bore her, with many a

twist and turn, toward the more open waters of the sound.

"To be left in this way in an unknown wilderness makes me feel as Cortez

must have felt when he burned his ships," reflected Alaric, as he

watched the receding craft.

"I don't think I ever heard about that," said Bonny, simply. "Did he do

it for the insurance?"

"Not exactly," laughed Alaric; "and yet in a certain way he did too.

I'll tell you all about it some time. Now, what are you going to do

next?"

"Climb that bluff, lie down under those trees while you eat something,

and watch for the sloop," answered Bonny, as though his programme had

all been arranged beforehand.

They did this, and Alaric was so hungry that he made away with a whole

box of sardines and a tin of deviled ham. He wondered a little if they

would not make him ill, but did not worry much, for he was rapidly

learning that while leading an out-of-door life one may eat with

impunity many things that would kill one under more ordinary conditions.

He had just finished his ham, and was casting thoughtful glances toward

a bottle of olives, when Bonny exclaimed. "There she is!"

Sure enough, the sloop, with the cutter's yawl in tow, was slowly

beating out past the point on the opposite side of the channel. She

stood well over toward the western shore, and the tide so carried her

down that when she tacked she was close under the bluff on which the

boys, stretched at full length and peering through a fringe of tall

grasses, watched her. She came so near that Alaric grew nervous, and was

certain her crew were about to make a landing at that very spot. With a

vision of McNeil's Island always before him, he wanted to run from so

dangerous a vicinity and hide in the forest depths; but Bonny assured

him that the sloop would go about, and in another moment she did so,

greatly to Alaric's relief.

They could see that Captain Duff was still confined below, and they even

heard one of the men sing out to the officer in command: "There it is

now, sir, about two miles down the channel. I can see it plain."

"Very good," answered the Lieutenant; "keep your eye on it, and note if

they make a landing. If they don't, we'll have them inside of half an

hour."

"Yes, you will," said Bonny, with a grin.

As the sloop passed out of hearing the lads crept back from the edge of

the bluff, gathered up their scanty belongings, and started through the

forest toward the place where Bonny believed Skookum John's camp to be

located.

After an hour of hard travel, they came suddenly on the camp, and were

terrified at sight of the cutter's yawl lying in the mouth of the creek,

and the revenue officer standing on shore engaged in earnest

conversation with Skookum John himself. Soon he shook hands with the

Indian and stepped into his boat. Just as it was about to shove off, a

villanous cur, scenting the new-comers, darted toward their

hiding-place, barking furiously.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[Illustration: MAP OF THE CONGO BASIN.]

STORIES OF CONGO DISCOVERY.

THE SECOND LARGEST RIVER IN THE WORLD.

BY CYRUS C. ADAMS.

[Illustration: A NATIVE RIVER BRIDGE.]

About a hundred years ago the school children of our country were

reading in their Morse's Geography that there were no great mountains in

North America, and that our largest mountains were the Alleghanies,

which were supposed to be a continuation of the Andes, interrupted by

the Gulf of Mexico. Teachers in those days edified boys and girls with

more or less amusing misinformation such as this about the land they

lived in. It was three hundred years after Columbus had discovered

America, and such blunders in the text-books show how very slowly

geographical knowledge had grown in those centuries.

But there has been a revolution. For over fifty years men and women have

been eagerly studying this great house where we abide, with its five big

rooms and its thousands of little ones. No one ever saw before such zeal

for geographical discovery. Africa heads the list, for that continent, a

fourth larger than our own, which was scarcely known a century ago,

except in its outlines and along some of its rivers, has been thrown

open to our gaze in nearly every corner; and the part of Africa where

the greatest amount of work, the largest interest, and the most

surprising discoveries have centred is the basin of the Congo, the

second largest of the world's river systems.

Europe knew of this mighty river before she ever heard of Columbus. For

four centuries sailors of various lands saw the Atlantic tinted for

forty miles from the shore by the yellow Congo tide; but no one knew

till Stanley told, eighteen years ago, where this mighty flood came

from. Livingstone lived and travelled for many months along the far

upper Congo, but the great old man died in the belief that he had traced

one of the sources of the Nile. It was the Niger problem reversed.

Nobody knew for centuries where the Niger River reached the sea. Nobody

knew where the Congo gathered its great floods. One river needed a

mouth, and the other a fountainhead, and so some wise geographers united

the two, making the Niger the upper part of the Congo. Mungo Park, who

traced the upper Niger for a thousand miles, believed it was a Congo

tributary, if not the Congo itself; and the Tuckey expedition perished

of fever among the lower Congo cataracts in 1816, while bravely trying

to fulfil their mission to ascend the Congo to the Niger, if the two

rivers were really one.

Eighteen years ago Stanley traced the Congo from central Africa over

1500 miles to the ocean. His great discovery made him famous, but other

men who followed him, some of whose names are hardly known, except to

geographers, have travelled far more widely in the Congo basin than

Stanley was able to do. He led the way, and forty or fifty followers,

scattering all over the Congo basin, which is half as large as the

United States, have been revealing this land to us; and students of the

ocean have been studying the sea-bed off its mouth. Let us glance at a

few facts that have been learned about this mighty river system.

It is found that more water pours into the ocean through the Congo's

mouth, which is six miles wide, than from all the other rivers in Africa

put together. The soft, dark-colored mud brought down by the river has

been distinctly traced on the ocean bottom for six hundred miles from

the land. In no other part of any ocean do the influences of the land

waters make themselves felt so far out to sea.

But it is not the deep lower Congo, which large steamers from Europe

ascend to the foot of the rapids, nor the roaring torrents along the 235

miles of the cataract region, that have attracted most attention. It is

the placid upper Congo, with its few reaches of rapids, and its many

tributaries, stretching away to far-distant parts of inner Africa, that

has kept the map-makers busy. This is the part of the continent where

explorers have been most active and the results most remarkable. No

part of the world of the same extent ever yielded so many geographical

surprises as did this region from 1885 to 1890. It was simply impossible

for the cartographers to keep their maps abreast of the news as it came

from the upper Congo.

[Illustration: BOMA, THE CAPITAL OF THE CONGO STATE. STANLEY'S BOAT IN

THE FOREGROUND.]

In January, 1885, the missionary George Grenfell started from Stanley

Pool on his little steamboat in quest of villages of friendly natives

where mission stations might be planted with good prospects of success.

He had previously been far up the river, and thought he knew it very

well; but on this trip he accidentally got out of the Congo, and did not

discover his mistake until he had steamed along a whole day, and found

that his little craft was pushing into a region where no white man had

ever been before. Grenfell had stumbled into the mouth of the

Mobangi-Makua River. For more than two years Stanley and his followers

had been travelling up and down the Congo, but they never saw--or at

least they never recognized--this great affluent, which is larger than

any European river except the Volga and the Danube. Grenfell forgot his

missions for the time, became the zealous explorer, and kept on his

course up the wide river until he was stopped by rapids, having left the

Congo about 400 miles behind; and while he was threading the virgin

stream Stanley was in England making his large map of the Congo, on

which not a trace of its greatest tributary appeared. The distinguished

explorer was the first victim of the swarm of discoveries which from

that day for years made every new map of the Congo behind the times as

soon as the next mails arrived from the river.

Perhaps some of the other white men had seen the mouth of the

Mobangi-Makua, and thought it merely an arm of the Congo enclosing an

island; for this is the region of the sealike expansion of the river,

where only a water horizon could be seen from either shore if it were

not for the myriad islands that cut the river into scores of tortuous

channels. There were white men on these Congo banks who neither saw nor

heard of the fleet of vessels that passed them a few miles away,

carrying the hundreds of men of the Emin relief expedition. Before

Stanley came whole tribes on one shore had never seen the people who

lived across the river.

A little later in 1885 a steamboat was sent up the Congo to the mouth of

the big river that enters it at Equatorville. No vessel could have a

more pleasant mission, for this steamer was the bearer of loving letters

from home and fresh supplies of European food for Wissman's party of

explorers, who had been in the African wilderness for many months, and

might be in sore need of succor. It was thought the party was quite

certain to emerge from the great unknown region south of the Congo at

Equatorville, and the reason for this belief is interesting.

[Illustration: NATIVE VILLAGE WHERE WISSMAN STARTED DOWN THE KASSAI.]

Many years before, Livingstone had crossed the upper waters of a river,

the Kassai, now known as the second largest Congo tributary. Stanley

believed the Kassai emptied into the Congo at Equatorville, and all the

map-makers adopted his hypothesis. Captain Wissman and his comrades were

sent from Germany to march inland from the Atlantic to the upper waters

of the Kassai, and then to follow it to its mouth; and as this point was

supposed to be at Equatorville, the mails and supplies for Wissman were

sent there, and the officers of the steamer expected any day to see his

expedition float into view.

Wissman reached the upper Kassai, and discovered there a remarkable

tribe, the Baluba, whose chief had cut down all the palm-trees in his

country to keep his people from getting drunk on palm wine. This chief

helped Wissman to hollow big canoes out of tree-trunks, and then he and

many of his subjects, who engaged with the explorer as paddlers, set out

with the white men down the unknown stream.

Wissman expected that the river would carry him far to the north, but in

a few days he was much surprised to find that he was travelling much

further west than north. Day after day he floated further and further to

the west, and after many weeks, and some curious adventures that cannot

be told in this chapter, he reached the Congo. A few days later another

stern-wheeler ascended the Congo, and at Equatorville pulled up to the

shore alongside the waiting vessel.

"What are you doing here?" asked the Captain.

"Oh, we're waiting for Wissman, and it's high time he came."

"Let's see; how long have you been waiting for Wissman?"

"Well, we've been here a little over two months. We're running short of

supplies ourselves, and if the party doesn't turn up here within the

next week, we shall leave Wissman's mails and boxes, and go back to

Stanley Pool."

"Well, Wissman has the start of you. He's at Stanley Pool now."

"You don't mean it! Reached the Congo? How long ago?"

"Just a week."

"Why didn't he follow the Kassai to its mouth, as he was ordered to do?"

"He did. You see, this river here isn't the Kassai. The Kwa River is the

Kassai. Wissman reached the Congo at Kwamouth over 200 miles south of

here."

More work for the map-makers. This story illustrates the surprises that

came to Europe month after month from the Congo basin. The geographers

had to pull to pieces most of their preconceptions about the lay of the

land and the extent and direction of the rivers. The waters of the

Sankuru, for instance, which Livingstone and Stanley had crossed in

their upper part, were found to reach the Congo about 700 miles from the

supposed point of confluence. Lakes that had appeared on the maps, on

native or Arab authority, were wiped out. A part of the Lualaba, or

western head stream of the Congo, was found to have no counterpart in

Africa. The narrow gorge, forty-three miles long, through which it

flows, walled in by perpendicular rock masses rising a quarter of a mile

above the stream, resembles our great Western cañons. In these few years

nearly all of our notions of Congo hydrography away from the main stream

were completely changed.

This was not all. While threading these numerous rivers in their little

steamboats, the explorers found many new peoples who had been buried

from the world's view in the dark Congo forests or on the vast inland

plains. You have read of the ancient troglodytes and of the prehistoric

lake-dwellers of Europe. Proofs of their existence are found among the

earliest evidences of human life; but the Congo basin to-day has two

large centres of lake-dwellers. Many thousands of people live in huts

reared high on piles out of reach of floods; and a few lakes are dotted

with these habitations, thus placed beyond the easy reach of enemies.

The explorers discovered the widespread haunts of the Batwa dwarfs--the

keen little hunters who had been seen when Stanley wrote his book, _The

Congo_. Their researches proved that the Congo basin is the greatest

hotbed of cannibalism the world ever saw. These and many other

discoveries kept geographers on the alert. Thus the Congo basin has

contributed a chapter to geographical and anthropological discovery that

has scarcely been surpassed in importance or romantic interest.

THE BROKEN CHARGE.

BY JAMES BUCKHAM.

Would you hear of the bravest, coolest deed

Ever inspired by a nation's need?

Thomas McBurney--a Kansas-bred Scot--

Lay in his rifle-pit, waiting a shot.

Over him whistled the enemy's balls;

_Ping!_ and they struck in the rampart walls.

Suddenly out of the woods there broke

A line of cavalry gray as smoke.

A troop--a regiment--a brigade.

Oh! what a rush and a roar they made!

A wild, swift charge on the frail redoubt,

Carbines ready and sabres out.

Hither and thither, like frightened hares,

Fled the sharpshooters out of their lairs.

All save Thomas McBurney; he

Thought not first what _his_ fate might be.

Uppermost thought in his hero soul,

To save the fort, and the field control.

On they thundered, the cavalcade.

McBurney waited; his plan was made.

Fifty yards from his cairn of rocks--

Up he popped, like a Jack-in-the-box!

_Bang!_ and the leader's horse went down,

Neck outstretched in the wire-grass brown.

Over him tumbled a dozen more,

And the Colonel--his heart and his head were sore.

"Halt!" he cried, and the broken line

Stopped, strung out like a trailing vine.

Lo! in the valley's dim expanse

Tossing flags and bayonets' glance.

Re-enforcements! At double-quick

They cross the meadows and ford the creek--

Boys in blue, with their banners bright,

Just in season to turn the fight.

Thomas McBurney, as cool as you please,

Settled down on his dust-grimed knees.

To pray? Yes, thankfully--and to run

A well-greased cartridge into his gun!

THE VANISHED ISLAND.

"Let her go off a little, Ralph; you'll come out better in the end if

you don't jam your boat too close to the wind. Keep your sail full, even

if you don't point quite so high, and you'll go faster through the

water, and get quicker to the place you're bound to."

So spoke Grandfather Sterling one summer afternoon to his grandson as

the old Captain's cat-boat _Mabel_ was being tacked across the bay,

after a day spent in picnicking on one of a number of the little islands

that were to be found within a few miles of the Captain's down-east

home.

"Grandfather," said Ralph, after letting the boat run up in the wind to

ease her of a strong and sudden puff, "while we were fishing to-day you

made the remark that the last time you had fished off an uninhabited

island you were a good many thousands of miles from this part of the

world. Is there a good story connected with it?"

The old mariner nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Yes, my lad, as usual I have an exciting yarn to spin you, even if the

subject is nothing more than that of an uninhabited island, and

to-night, after dinner has been tucked away, you may expect to hear it.

But here's the dock, so mind your eye, and let me see you bring the

_Mabel_ to it in ship-shape style."

Ralph steered so as to go to leeward of the pier, calculating the

distance his boat would reach after she had been thrown up in the wind,

and a moment later he put the tiller down and gathered in his sheet. The

_Mabel_ shot ahead with considerable speed for a moment, then her way

became slower and slower, and when her snub nose touched the dock there

was not enough force in the contact to send a tremor through the boat.

"That's Boston fashion, my boy," said Captain Sterling, regarding his

grandson proudly.

That evening Ralph's grandfather related to the lad a story, which he

named, "The Yarn of the Vanished Island."

"It is so many years ago now that I dislike to tell you the number, for

fear that you will think that I am growing old; so I will simply say

that when I was a hearty young seaman I found myself out in San

Francisco 'on the beach,' as sailors put it when they have neither money

nor employment. I could have had both by remaining on the _Dove_, the

vessel in which I had sailed around Cape Horn, but the treatment

received on board had been so bad that all hands deserted as soon as she

reached California. I made myself scarce until the ship sailed, then

found a berth on a top-sail schooner called the _Queen_, that traded

around the Sandwich Islands, bartering all kinds of trinkets with the

natives for sandal-wood and the plumage of beautiful birds, which in the

days I refer to were common on all the islands. The sandal-wood and

feathers were carried to China and traded for tea, and this was taken to

California and sold in different ports along the coast.

"We were a happy family on board the _Queen_, for we all lived in a big

cabin aft, and Captain Josiah Crabtree, the master of the schooner, who

was a very eccentric and pious old fellow from Massachusetts, and who

had made a considerable fortune in the trade, kept strict order among

us, and seemed to consider himself responsible for our spiritual as well

as earthly welfare, for he held church service regularly every Sunday

morning on deck, and obliged all hands to be present. He quoted

Scripture on all occasions, and always had an appropriate verse handy

for anything and everything, whether it was a call to meals or an order

to tar down the rigging. In spite of his peculiar ways we respected him

so much that during the time I served on the schooner I never heard a

profane word used--in fact, it would have been unhealthy to do so, for

Captain Crabtree was over six feet in height, and was what is called a

'muscular Christian.'

"On the voyage I sailed with him, the master of the _Queen_ was to try a

new plan. The supply of feathers had been falling off for the last two

or three voyages, so he determined to go hunting on his own account. He

explained to us that there were a number of small islands to the

northward and westward of Hawaii that were uninhabited, and that he

proposed to visit several of them, leaving a man on each, supplied with

provisions, a shot-gun, and plenty of ammunition, and that during the

short time we were to play Robinson Crusoe he expected us to shoot as

many birds as possible, and to carefully save their feathers until he

should come back and pick us up. This plan suited us first rate, for we

looked upon it as promising a great lark, and were anxious for the

_Queen_ to cover the twenty-five hundred miles of water that separated

us from the little islands with their delightful climate on which we

were to picnic.

"After a long passage, for the schooner was a slow sailer, we sighted

the first of the group, and one of the men was set on shore. I was left

on the second one, and found it a paradise, with its snow-white beach,

its beautiful, luxuriant vegetation and woods, and its balmy air laden

with the odor of flowers. The Captain told me to look out for his return

about a fortnight later.

"As there was a rivalry among the sportsmen on account of a money prize

offered for the one who secured the largest amount of gay-colored

feathers, I soon got my little camp in shape, and settled down to

business. So numerous were the birds, and so proficient did I become in

the use of my fowling-piece, that by the time the two weeks had passed

my store of treasure almost filled the large sack that I had brought

from the schooner.

"It was the night of the fifteenth day that I had been on the island.

Ever since early morning the atmosphere had been so stifling that I had

lain under the trees almost suffocated. The earth itself seemed to burn.

It was not only the fearful heat and the absence of anything like a

breeze, but there was a sulphurous smell in the air, and the water from

the spring had tasted so hot and bitter when I tried to drink it that I

was not able to swallow it.

"At length I fell asleep, but only to be awakened by a fearful rumbling,

followed a moment later by a crash that threatened to rend the island in

twain. At the instant I took it to be thunder, but the starry splendor

of the sky told me to look elsewhere for the cause. Almost before I

could reason, the island commenced to rock and heave as though it was a

ship at sea, and such an overpowering smell of sulphur was sent forth

that I fell to the ground overcome with terror and faintness. During the

remainder of the night the rumbling went on at times deep down in the

heart of the island, but there were no more of the awful shocks and

crashes that had stunned me in the beginning. Slowly the daylight came,

bringing with it a gentle breeze that cleared away the sickening

atmosphere, and then as the day broadened I made out, to my joy, the

_Queen_ standing toward the land.

"An hour later, when the schooner's boat touched the beach, I threw my

bag of feathers into her and followed them. Then on our way to the

vessel, which was hove to about a mile off-shore, I gave my companions

an account of my last night on the island. When we reached the _Queen_ I

rehearsed my story to the Captain. He was deeply interested in its

details, and was in the middle of a scriptural quotation when he stopped

suddenly, gave a cry, and pointed to the island.

"We were not more than two miles from it at the time, so that it lay in

full view from our deck in the brilliant sunshine. The dazzling white

beach had disappeared, and the sea looked to be creeping up toward the

trees that grew on the higher ground inland. As we all gazed, fascinated

at the scene, the trees were sucked down slowly into the deep. Soon

nothing but the tops of the tallest ones were left, and a moment later

even these had entirely disappeared, and the ocean swept clear to all

points of the horizon. The beautiful island on which I had lived for two

weeks, and through whose woods and vales I had roamed, was swallowed up,

to be seen no more forever, and amid the foliage in which I had lain two

hours before the fishes were then sporting at the bottom of the

Pacific."

A WIDE-AWAKE COLLECTOR.

One of the most enterprising stamp-collectors that has ever come to our

notice was a small Swiss boy, who, during the late war between Japan and

China, wrote the following note to Marshal Yamagata, in command of the

Japanese forces:

HONORED MARSHAL,--I am only a school-boy ten years old. I live at

Berne. Upon the map, Switzerland is smaller than Japan. I was very

pleased to hear that you have been serving the Chinese as my

ancestors served their enemies. I hope that you will conquer all

China, and throw down the famous wall which prevents people from

going there. No doubt it is because of that wall that I have not

got any Chinese stamps in my album. You must have captured a lot

where you are, and I should be pleased if you would send me some.

Unfortunately for this record of his enterprise, the boy's name is

unknown to us, but it is stated that the Marshal, having received the

letter, was so much amused by it that he took the trouble to secure a

large number of Chinese stamps and to send them to his lively little

correspondent.

[Illustration: From Chum to Chum.]

BY GASTON V. DRAKE.

XI.--FROM BOB TO JACK.

LONDON, _July_ --, 189-.

Dear Jack,--We're still in London, and I guess if we stay here

until we've seen it all we'll never get to Hoboken. Talk about your

three-ringed circuses! London beats 'em all for side-shows and go.

When you think you've seen all there is to see you come across an

entirely new lot of museums, and parks, and hysterical spots to be

visited, and I'm just dizzy trying to remember what Pop told me not

to forget. What with St. James's Palace and Madame Tussaud's

wax-works, the Zoo and the National Gallery, I hardly know what I

saw where, except that of course I didn't see any wax-works at the

Zoo.

I think altogether the Zoo and the wax-works are the things I've

liked best of all about here. The National Gallery is pretty good,

but after you've seen about forty-two miles of pictures, some of

'em as big as a farm your eyes get tired and the back of your neck

sort of hurts. Still, I went through it because Pop said I ought

to, and whenever I have a nightmare nowadays instead of seeing

boojums and snarks I see old masters. You never saw an old master

did you? Well you needn't be in any hurry to. They aren't the sort

of things boys like very much. They're generally cracked so's to

look like a go-bang board and keep you guessing about what they're

pictures of, but Aunt Sarah who studied art last winter in Yonkers

says they're very educating, and I guess she knows. She says she

does anyhow and I don't think she'd say a thing that wasn't so. I

can't say that I've learned much from 'em except perhaps that the

pictures you and I draw in the backs of our spelling books aren't

so bad after all.

[Illustration]

Pop says he's learned one thing from 'em too. There used to be a

fellow named Gainsborough that painted acres of pictures every

year, and Pop says his things are fine and prove that theatre hats

aren't modern inventions and he's right about it. He's got several

pictures in this gallery that would drive me crazy if I had to sit

behind 'em at a matinee. There were some pictures there though that

I'd give house-room to if they asked me, by Sir Edwin Landseer.

Pictures of dogs. I tell you he could paint dogs that bark. It was

as much as I could do to keep from whistling to 'em and patting 'em

on the head, and one little spaniel was painted so well that it

seemed to me I could see his tail wag. Pop says that that was all

imagination, but Aunt Sarah said no it was art, and I let 'em argue

it out between 'em. Whatever it was though that painted dog's tail

wagged and it was worth travelling miles to see.

I was kind of disappointed with St. James's Palace. I expected to

see something like a transformation scene at Humpty Dumpty, gold

doors, and fountains, and bands playing and all that. You'd think a

Palace would be different from a factory anyhow, but it wasn't,

very. It didn't look any livelier than a jail would, and as far as

the outside of it was concerned I couldn't see that it was any

handsomer than the Grand Central Depot in New York, and not half as

big. They wouldn't let us inside. I thought perhaps the Queen was

asleep and they were afraid I'd whistle, but Pop said she didn't

live there any more, and I didn't blame her. I wouldn't either if I

could help it. I dare say it's very fine inside, with onyx

stairways and solid gold banisters for the children to slide down,

but outside I wouldn't give a cent for it. If it wasn't for the

soldiers with their big bear-skin hats and robin-red-breast coats

on I wouldn't have cared if we never saw it. The soldiers were

worth looking at, though most of 'em have such great big bulgy

chests you'd take 'em for pouter pigeons.

Right alongside of the Palace is where the Prince of Whales lives

and while we were looking at it he came out in a cab. He was

another disappointment. He wore a beaver hat just like Pop's, and

instead of having a scepter in his hands he carried an umbrella and

a cigar; just the sort of man you'd expect to meet on Broadway any

day of the year. Somehow it's hard to get used to the idea of a

real live Prince wearing a beaver hat and carrying an umbrella, and

it almost makes me sorry I came. I suppose if I could really find

out how to go to Fairyland and should go there I'd find all the

fairies dressed up in pea-jackets and sailor hats like most of the

boys we see nowadays, and probably they'd be playing ball or riding

bicycles instead of flying about on gossamer wings and swinging on

cobwebs.

[Illustration]

I spoke to Pop about it, and he said it was because the Prince

loved the people that he didn't dress up like Solomon. All the men

feel that they've got to dress like the Prince of Whales and if he

came out in a bathing suit and a blue plush smoking-cap on his

head, every man in England and New York that wanted to be

fashionable would do the same thing, and if he dressed as

magnificently as he knew how, in a diamond-studded dress-suit and

gold trousers, it would ruin everybody to go and do likewise. So he

wears clothes that are within the reach of all, which I think is

very nice of him, though I wish I could see him on Sunday when he

puts on his best. Pop says the way the men imitate him is very

funny. He says there was an actor once disguised himself as the

Prince who went riding through the Park on a donkey with bells on

its hoofs, and next day sixty-three of the most fashionable young

men of London appeared the same way, and when they found out that

they had been fooled they were so angry that they wouldn't go to

that actor's theatre again, but everybody else thought it was such

a good joke that they went and the actor made a fortune.

[Illustration]

I was going to tell you about the wax-works at Madame Tussaud's and

the Zoo in this letter, but Pop says it's time for me to go to bed,

because we are going to have a hard day to-morrow. We're going to

take a coach and drive out to Hampton Court and back, so I'll have

to close here. I wish you'd ask that Chicago boy if he's a

grand-nephew of Baron Munchausen. I told Pop about that

prairie-yacht and how Billie's seal-skin cap saved him from being

scalped, and Pop was very much interested and said he thought he

knew now who Billie was, and when I asked him who, he said the

grand-nephew of Baron Munchausen, a man who never told the truth

unless it was absolutely necessary.

Yours ever,

BOB.

P. S.--I've just got out of bed for a minute to tell you that you

never saw such monkies as they have at the Zoo. They look almost as

human as some of our Aldermen in New York, Pop says.

[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORTS]

[Illustration: E. W. MILLS.]

The success of the New Manhattan Athletic Club in managing the recent

in-door interscholastic games has suggested the possibility of having

the club manage the National meet in June. This would be a very good

scheme, if practicable, because experience has shown that hitherto the

chief obstacle in the way of success for scholastic meetings has been

poor business management.

It is not always possible for young men who have nearly all they can

attend to at school to devote enough time to the business management of

an athletic meeting to make it a thorough success; and it is therefore

well, when possible, that this kind of work should be turned over to

those who have more time and greater experience for the amount and kind

of work required. The N.M.A.C. handled the recent games in a

satisfactory way, and there is no reason to think that it would not

carry out the plans for the National meet fully as well.

At the in-door games the club assumed the entire financial

responsibility, and offered prizes besides; but the managers would

naturally feel some hesitancy about doing the same thing for an

out-of-door meeting, where the weather must have so much to do with the

attendance. The constitution of the National Interscholastic Association

stipulates, I believe, that the prizes in each event shall amount in

value to $25. The N.M.A.C. would not care to saddle itself with the

responsibility of offering thirteen or fourteen sets of $25 medals,

besides paying the rental of the grounds and other incidental expenses;

but I am informed on good authority that the club would be perfectly

willing to assume the responsibility of securing grounds and of making

all arrangements for advertising and management, as they did for the

in-door games, at their own risk. Should there be any surplus after

these expenses have been defrayed, this would go toward paying for the

prizes--no set of medals to cost more than $25; and should there still

be a surplus after that, the money would be turned over to the National

Association's treasury. The club, I am sure, does not wish to make any

profit out of the enterprise.

By such an arrangement, of course, there would be no shining medals on a

table in the middle of the Berkeley Oval for the contestants to admire

before they had been defeated in their events, and that would doubtless

detract much from the interest in these games of our friends the

medal-hunters; but on the other hand it would be a good thing if it

could be announced that there would not be any medals on show that day,

as this might keep these same medal-hunters off the grounds--which would

be an advantage.

The prizes, as I have frequently said, are purely a secondary

consideration; and even if there was not enough money left over, after

all the expenses had been paid, to get anything better than ribbons, the

success of the National Association would not suffer, for the games are

not held for the purpose of distributing gold and silver disks, but for

the purpose of encouraging amateur sport and to bring about meetings

between the strongest athletes in the schools of the country. At the

Olympic games which have just closed in Athens the victors received mere

olive wreaths, but these wreaths are as precious to them as if they were

of gold or precious stones. It is not the value of the wreath itself, it

is what the faded leaves represent that the true sportsman cherishes.

[Illustration: H. J. Brown. O. Lorraine.

D. P. White. O. E. Robinson. C. M. Hall.

B. Kinney. E. L. Johnson. A. Robinson. S. L. M. Starr.

W. L. Van Wagenen. H. W. Goldsborough.

ST. PAUL'S TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM,

Winners of First Place at the N.M.A.C. Interscholastic Games, March 28,

1896.]

It would not be fair to ask the N.M.A.C. or any club to assume the

responsibility for the rent of the grounds and other necessary expenses,

and for the medals too. It is a sufficient risk for them to undertake

to pay for the former, without going into jewelry. I hope the National

Association's Executive Committee will see the advantage of having the

games--their first venture--managed by a club or an association of older

and more experienced men, and come to an understanding on some such

lines as the N.M.A.C. may propose.

A number of letters have come to this Department recently asking for

suggestions about the construction of hard tennis courts. There are

several kinds of these, the gravel court being by far the best of all. A

gravel court is laid out by first digging about fifteen or eighteen

inches down and filling this hole with broken brick, stone, and other

coarse rubbish to within six inches of the top. Then coarse gravel of

any kind should be put on and well packed down with a hose. This layer

should come up to within two inches of the top. The last two inches

should be filled in with fine screened gravel, and if this will not

bind, add a little clay. On top of all this put from one-eighth to

one-quarter of an inch of the finest red gravel--just enough to give

color to the court. If too much of this red gravel is put on it will not

bind well. It soon wears off, and then more should be laid on, and after

this has been done a few times a court will keep its color all summer.

The advantage of such a court is that it needs but little care. All you

have to do is to sweep the gravel off occasionally, and water and roll

it. A light roller is sufficient for this purpose, as it is expected to

affect the top layer of the gravel only. The best way to mark out a

gravel court is with an inch tape nailed down with tacks. Whitewash will

not do, as it spreads. The least satisfactory kind of hard court is made

of cinders. These pack fairly well; but a cinder court requires a great

deal of care to keep in order, and is always a dirty place to play on,

the balls becoming black after a few sets, and consequently useless.

In nearly every city of the Middle West high-school associations have

been organized during the past year or so, and these associations have

done much toward encouraging school sport, and toward making the

contests among their members more systematic than they have been

heretofore. In Wisconsin interscholastic football and baseball games

have until recently been carried on in a haphazard fashion, without any

special attempt toward the formation of a union that might properly

recognize the claims to supremacy of the successful team.

Last fall, however, the initial steps toward placing all branches of

sport on a sound and permanent basis were taken. The season of 1895

clearly showed the need of an organization, and in December

representatives from the schools of all the principal cities of southern

Wisconsin met in Milwaukee and formed the Southern Wisconsin

Inter-High-school League. The purposes of the organization are to

develop all kinds of athletic sports in the schools, and to encourage a

friendly rivalry in the various contests among its members. It also aims

to correct some abuses which have crept into interscholastic

sport--abuses which always will creep into any kind of sport where there

is no restriction of government or organization. The league is divided

into four circuits, each embracing the cities located in a certain

territory, and the team which carries off the honors in its own circuit

contests for the State Championship with the leaders in the other

circuits.

The constitution of the Wisconsin League, while placing many wise

restrictions upon its members, leaves them free to arrange their own

schedules of games and to manage their own affairs as may seem best and

wisest to them. The league will open the season of 1896 with baseball

and track athletics--the field day for the latter to be held in Madison

on June 9th. The first interscholastic field day of the Wisconsin

schools was held June 8th of last year, under the auspices of the

Wisconsin University Athletic Association. Twelve high-schools were

represented, and many good records were made, a brief account of which

was given in this Department in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE for July 2, 1895.

Much interest is being displayed now in the coming meeting, and

doubtless even a better showing will be made than that of last season.

It is in football, however, that the various schools of the league

expect to see developed the hardest struggle for the championship. Last

fall, although no organization had been effected, the contest for first

place was a hard one, and the interest aroused in the schools was

intense. Madison High-school justly deserves to rank at the head of the

scholastic teams of that section. Her eleven won every game played. In

fact, M. H.-S. has only been defeated once in football since it put an

eleven into the field, three years ago. Of the eighteen contests in

which it has engaged only one was lost, and that to the strong team of

the St. John's Military Academy, which ought not to be classed as a

school team, or played against by school teams, so long as the academy

authorities sanction the methods at present in vogue at Delafield. The

reason for M.H.-S.'s good record rests, doubtless, in the fact that

Madison is an enthusiastic football town, and the school team gets much

valuable experience and benefit from playing against the university

eleven.

The formation of the Twin-City Dual Interscholastic League, which was

mentioned in this Department last week, was brought about by

complications which arose in the league formerly composed of the St.

Paul High, the Minneapolis High, and the Duluth High schools. The old

league fell to pieces, and the new one was constructed on different

lines, which promise to make the venture a success. I am glad to say

that I was misinformed concerning the presence of the standing jumps on

the card. Mr. George Cole is the President, Stewart J. Fuller, the

Vice-President, George Angst, Secretary, and Chester H. Griggs,

Treasurer. These young men have all been prominent for some time in

interscholastic sport, and if they can control the policy of the league,

it will doubtless earn a high standing among similar associations.

The organization does not aim to control track athletics only, but will

also look after the football and baseball interests of the St. Paul and

Minneapolis schools. Track athletics have only been taken up

systematically for the past five years in these two cities, and yet the

schools have made rapid strides in this short time, and have sent a

number of clever men to Eastern colleges. The St. Paul High-School has

perhaps done better than most of the schools in that section in sending

good men East. Winters, the well-known Yale tackle, Cochran, the

end-rusher, and Langford, the stroke of the present Yale crew, are all

graduates of that institution.

The Inter-collegiate Association has stricken the bicycle race from the

regular schedule of the spring games. It would be a very good thing if

the New York and Brooklyn I.S.A.A.'s, and, in fact, if all

interscholastic associations would follow their example. The New York

and Brooklyn associations could combine and have a bicycle field day in

the same week of the annual interscholastic meetings, or at any other

time that might seem more convenient, and do away with the unpleasant

bicycle event at the track-athletic meeting altogether.

I suggest that the New York and Brooklyn associations combine, because

it seems to me that it would be more profitable, on account of the

larger number of entries, the greater interest, and the greater

attendance such a union would command. Should the bicycle event be

stricken from the interscholastic card, an excellent substitute would be

a relay race. Relay races, as I have frequently said within the past few

weeks, are becoming more and more popular all over the country, and

sooner or later the relay race will become a standard event on every

track-athletic card. Therefore, the sooner the interscholastic managers

recognize this fact and put the race on their schedules, the better. If

the entries for the relay races are so numerous in an association as

large as the New York or Boston I.S.A.A. it would be possible to have

the preliminary heats run in the morning, and have only finals at the

games in the afternoon. This is a matter well worthy of consideration.

THE GRADUATE.

[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.

Portugal announces a new set of commemorative stamps to be issued

shortly. The designs have been accepted, but the colors and values of

the stamps have not yet been decided upon. Nicaragua has issued a set of

postage-stamps--1, 2, 5, 10, 20, and 50 centavos, 1, 2, 5 pesos. Also

the same stamps surcharged "official." In addition, a new set of

postage-due stamps--1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 30, and 50 centavos, all in orange

color--and an "Officially Sealed" stamp in blue. Porto Rico has changed

the colors on the current set of adhesives, thirteen stamps in all.

Honduras has also just issued a new set. The Cuban Republic stamps, 2,

5,10, and 25 centavos, are sold by some of the smaller dealers.

All the above would probably come under the ban of the S.S.S.S. as

unnecessary, and issued for revenue only. The work of eliminating or

diminishing "speculative" stamps is very slow; but progress is steadily

made, and the number of new issues during the past six months is less

than the average.

J. L. HUNTER.--The coin is a French 5 centimes of 1856. No premium.

H. VAUGHN.--The probabilities are that the Cuban Republic stamps

will be accepted by the great majority of collectors; but as yet

the advanced philatelists will not admit them in their albums. They

seem to me purely speculative, hence uncollectable. The $20 U.S.

revenue is worth $1.50; the 24c. and 30c. War Departments are worth

50c. and 30c. respectively.

F. B. KINGSBURY.--Your coin is worth 6c.

J. SCHMIDT.--The 24c. 1869 U.S., with reversed centre, is worth

$100 if in good condition.

G. B. SNIDER.--The only way the number of the sheet can be known is

by the printed margin of the sheet. All the stamps on a sheet are

identical.

R. S. CHASE, 30 Alumni Avenue, Providence, R. I., wishes to

exchange stamps.

R. F. T.--Stamps printed "Marca di Bolo" are Italian Revenues. The

25c. Venezuela 1892 are common; millions were printed and used.

F. H. HORTING, F. J. WATTSON, D. W. HARDIN.--The coins are common.

No dealer would pay a premium on them, as he picks them up in the

regular course of business at face value. When dealers sell they of

course ask an advance on face. They have to pay rent, clerk hire,

advertising, and their own living expenses.

E. L. H.--The 8d. yellow New South Wales, 1860 issue, is worth 25c.

The Canada 12-1/2c., 1868, is worth 18c.

D. W. H.--The millennial stamps have not been accepted as

collectable by the majority of philatelists; but, of course, that

is a matter to be settled by each collector for himself.

PHILATUS.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

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Constable & Co

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[Illustration: Hartford Rubber Works Co.]

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And he found a crooked Hair-Pin against a crooked stile;

And if to see this pin yourself you happen to insist,

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[Illustration]

By the makers of the famous DELONG Hook and Eye.

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[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]

A cream-of-tartar baking powder. Highest of all in leavening

strength.--_Latest United States Government Food Report._

ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., NEW YORK.

[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

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LOOK HERE, YOUNG PEOPLE!

Until May 25th, we will accept =10 Cents= in payment of one year's

subscription to =THE MONTHLY JOURNAL=, a literary magazine, published and

edited by young people for young people. Address

The Monthly Journal, New Brunswick, N. J.

[Illustration]

The Eight Numbers of the Franklin

Square Song Collection contain

1600

of the Choicest Old and New Songs

and Hymns in the Wide World.

Fifty Cents per Number in paper; Sixty Cents in substantial Board

binding; One Dollar in Cloth. The Eight Numbers also bound in two

volumes at $3.00 each. Address Harper & Brothers, New York.

[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYE WATER]

[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, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.]

Continuing the journey from where it was left last week, proceed from

Lyons westward up hill, turn left at the top, and proceed downward, over

the canal, and thence, keeping to the right, cross the canal again, turn

sharp left up a hill, and cross the bridge into Newark. This is eight

miles from Lyons. The road, except at the hills, is in very good

condition. Leaving Newark, take the second turn to the right and cross

the canal, but instead of proceeding straight ahead towards East

Palmyra, turn sharp to the left, and crossing the canal again, proceed

to Fort Gibson, three miles further on. It is better to take this road

and to proceed direct to Palmyra over the turnpike, which is reached at

Fort Gibson by turning sharp to the right, than to pass through East

Palmyra itself, though it is possible to take the direct road, which is

somewhat shorter, and proceed through East Palmyra. From Palmyra run out

over Main Street, using the side-paths and side-walks where available,

until the yellow mills are reached, thence cross the canal, turning to

the right, and keeping to the left, follow the turnpike to Macedon.

Macedon is twenty-one miles from Lyons, and from this point the route to

Rochester is easily followed. The road is in good condition, and the

rider will find no difficulty in keeping to the road from Macedon to

Pittsford, and thence to Rochester itself.

Entering Rochester, ride in through Monroe Avenue to Clinton Street,

thence to East Main Street, where the Powers House will be easily found.

Rochester is another place where there is great interest taken in

bicycling. There are several good routes in the vicinity of the city.

One of these is to Elmira, the route being to return, as already

described, to Pittsford; thence proceed to Canandaigua, to Reed's

Corners, Gorham, Ferguson's Corners, Penn Yan, Milo, Dundee, Rock

Stream, Reading Centre, Watkins, Montour Falls, Mill Port, Pine Valley,

Horseheads, into Elmira. This is a run of one hundred miles. Another run

is to leave Rochester and run out to Sodus Bay, passing through West

Webster, Webster, Union Hill, Ontario Centre, Ontario, Williamson,

Sodus, and Alton, to Sodus Bay, a distance of thirty-nine miles. Another

interesting but much shorter run is to proceed from Rochester out

through Genesee Street to the end of the street, thence following the

road along the banks of the Genesee River, through Buttermilk Hill, to

Scottsville. Thence proceeding to Spring Creek Hotel, which is

twenty-one miles from Rochester, you will get a good dinner for fifty

cents. After dinner it will be interesting to go over the State

Fish-hatcheries. There are several different routes of greater or less

distance by which you may return to Rochester.

EDWARD J. BROWN.--There are several kinds of chain-cleaners, but

none of them are of very much use. An ordinary rag that is clean,

used with some care, is quite as effective as anything else.

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. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in No.

820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822.

Philadelphia-Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West

Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City--First Stage in

No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland--First

Stage in No. 827; Second Stage in No. 828. New York to

Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth

Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833.

Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to

Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to

New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839.

Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to

Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843.

Philadelphia to Washington--First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in

No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth Stage in No. 847; Fifth

Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849. City of Albany in

No. 854; Albany to Fonda in No. 855; Fonda to Utica in No. 856;

Utica to Lyons in No. 857.

[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly

answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to

hear from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.

TIME-SAVING HINTS FOR THE AMATEUR.

When one has a quantity of aristo prints to mount which he does not

intend to have burnished, he must be careful not to wet the face of the

print, as it destroys the gloss imparted by the ferrotype plate. The

usual method is to lay the print face down on a sheet of glass and paste

it, cleaning the glass after each print has been mounted. A much simpler

way is to take pieces of newspaper several sizes larger than the prints

to be mounted, lay them in a pile on the table at the left hand, lay a

print face down on the top piece of paper, paste it, and drop the piece

of newspaper in the scrap-basket. Continue thus, using a fresh piece of

paper for each print, till all the prints are mounted. The newspaper

makes a good surface to paste on, as the print does not slip, as it does

sometimes on the glass if not held very firmly. This way of pasting

prints saves a great deal of time and trouble.

Before beginning to mount pictures trim each one and lay it on the card

on which it is to be mounted. Some amateurs when mounting pictures

always mark where the picture is to be placed on the card. This is not

necessary, for the eye can be readily trained to see when a picture is

straight if the picture itself is properly trimmed.

A simple arrangement for drying negatives is made by taking a stout

wire, bending it in the middle at a right angle, and then bending the

ends over to make short hooks, which clasp the edges of a plate. The

wire should be bent close enough so that it is necessary to spring it a

little to fit it to the plate. Put the wet side of the plate toward the

wire, and set the plate on a shelf with the edge resting on the shelf,

the wire supporting it somewhat after the fashion of an easel.

In filtering solutions, unless one has a fluted glass funnel, the

filtering paper adheres to the glass and allows the liquid to pass

through very slowly. A simple way to hurry the process is to fold the

circle of filtering paper together, and then fold it from the centre

back and forth like a fan. Crease the folds so that they will remain,

and when put in the funnel there will be spaces between the glass and

the paper through which the solution will run very quickly.

Films are quite inclined to curl both in the developing solution and in

the fixing solution. This necessitates pushing them down into the fixing

bath, and often causes much annoyance to the operator. If the hypo is

put into a large glass tumbler the film may be curled round a bottle,

and the bottle set in the tumbler of hypo, which will do away with any

trouble of keeping the film down into the hypo. The bottle should be

clean, and filled with water so that it will set flat in the tumbler.

SIR KNIGHT FRANK EVANS, JUN., 1116 Brown Street, Philadelphia, Pa.,

wishes to correspond with some of the Camera Club members. Sir

Knight Frank says he has some good formulas which he would be

pleased to send to the Camera Club. We shall be glad to have them

and to publish them. Send full directions for use, please, and

write on one side of the paper only.

SIR KNIGHT RAGEAN TUTTLE, Auburn, Col., asks where to get the

photographic supplies mentioned in the ROUND TABLE. They may be

bought of any reliable dealer in photographic goods.

LADY MANA M. MONAHAN, of Michigan, asks the address of a good

school of photography. At Effingham, Ill., is a school of

photography called Illinois College of Photography, where all the

branches of photography are taught.

SIR KNIGHT HERSCHEL F. DAVIS wants to know the right exposure for a

moonlight view, with largest stop, and if it will blur the plate to

include the moon in the picture. From a half-hour to an hour is the

usual time given for a moonlight view, according to the brightness

of the light. The moon may be included in the picture, and will not

have a halo; but the moon, instead of being round, will make a

longer or shorter streak on the plate, according to the length of

time it is exposed, as, of course, with the motion of the earth and

moon, it will have traversed quite a space in the course of an

hour.

* * * * *

A CHANCE FOR AN EXPERIMENT.

Have plants intelligence? Do they ever think? These are interesting

questions that would have to be answered by the statement of an observer

of the ways of pumpkins and melons. Says he: "Plants often exhibit

something very much like intelligence. If a bucket of water, during a

dry season, be placed a few inches from a growing pumpkin or melon vine,

the latter will turn from its course, and in a day or two will get one

of its leaves in the water."

We do not vouch for the truth of this, but if there be any young

gardeners among the readers of the ROUND TABLE it might make an

interesting experiment for them next summer when they are pursuing their

avocation.