COAL MINES AT NEWCASTLE--SUGAR PLANTATION IN QUEENSLAND--THE END.
"The region between Sydney and Newcastle," wrote Ned in his journal, "is
a diversified one. Here and there are forests interspersed with open
country. Some of the ground is level, and some of it very much broken
and mountainous. Most of it is fertile, and we passed through many
fields of wheat and other grain. Some of it is devoted to cattle raising
and some to the production of wool, though it is not generally regarded
as a good country for raising sheep. In places the mountains come quite
close to the sea-coast, and there we found the railway winding over a
very tortuous course, where the rocks that rose on either hand, and the
tunnels through which we were occasionally whirled, convinced us that
the building of the railway must have cost a great deal of money. At
several places coal mining was in progress, and it was evident that
Newcastle didn't have an entire monopoly of the coal-producing business.
"Newcastle is quite as much devoted to the coal business as the English
city from which it was named. More than two million tons of coal are
shipped from this port every year, and the engineers who have carefully
examined the coal seams say that there is enough coal under Newcastle
to keep up the supply at the present rate for more than five hundred
years.
"We were first taken to the harbor where the shipments are made. There
we found admirable facilities for loading vessels with the products of
the mines. They claim that they can handle twenty-five thousand tons of
coal daily, and that a good-sized coal steamer can leave port with her
cargo six hours after entering. I'm not an expert in such matters, and
therefore don't know, but from what I saw it seems to me that there is
no difficulty about it.
"The harbor of Newcastle was not a very good one originally, but they
have made it so by extending into the sea a breakwater, which shelters
it from the gales that formerly swept it. It is not a large harbor, but
an excellent one for its purpose.
"We visited some of the coal sheds and coal breakers, and went into one
of the mines. They would gladly have taken us through all the mines in
the place, but as one mine is very much like another, we declined to
make the rounds of all of them. The one that we entered was about four
hundred feet underground. We were lowered in a cage to the bottom of the
mine, and then walked through a tunnel to where the men were at work,
dodging on our way several loaded cars that were going towards the
shaft, as well as empty ones coming from it. The cars were pushed along
by men, each of them carrying a little lantern on the front of his hat;
in fact, every man whom we saw working underground had one of these
lights for his guidance. The tunnel itself was lit up with electric
lights, extending from the shaft to the front of the working; and in
addition to these, each of us carried a lantern, which was of material
assistance in showing us where to place our feet. We had a few stumbles
on the way, but nobody experienced a fall.
"When we reached the front of the working, the sight was a curious one.
A dozen men--I think there must have been that number at least--were
attacking the coal seam, most of them lying on their sides and digging
away with picks at the lower part of it. Some of them had worked their
way in two or three feet, and were almost out of sight, and I shuddered
to think of the possibility that the mass above might fall upon and
crush them. I asked our guide if this did not happen sometimes.
"'Unfortunately, yes,' he replied. 'It does happen now and then, and the
men on whom the coal falls are more or less severely injured, and
perhaps killed. We have to watch the miners constantly, to see that they
do not run too great a risk. If we let them have their own way,
accidents would be much more frequent than they are.'
"'Why do they burrow under the coal in that way?' I asked. 'Couldn't
they get it out in some manner less dangerous than that?'
"'That is the way to which they have been accustomed,' the guide
answered, 'and it is difficult to get them to change. Most of these
people come from the coal-mining districts of England, and they are very
conservative. Machines have been invented for doing this kind of work,
and they are in use in some of the mines, but the men are opposed to
them, and in some instances they have disabled or destroyed the
machines.'
"Then he went on to explain that the miner makes an opening below the
mass of coal in the manner that we saw, and then drills a hole some
distance above it, in which to explode a charge of powder. This brings
down all the coal below the locality of the explosion. Sometimes it is
broken up into lumps that a man can handle, and sometimes it comes down
in a single block, which requires another blast to break it up, and then
the cars are brought up as near as possible. The coal is loaded into
them, and pushed away to the shaft. Each man is paid according to the
amount of coal he gets out, and some of them receive large wages. There
are about five thousand people employed in the coal mines here, and the
probabilities are that the business will be extended, and the coal
product of Newcastle increased within a year or two from the present
time."
From Newcastle our friends continued their journey northward to
Brisbane, the capital of Queensland. They traveled all the way by rail,
changing trains at Stanthorpe, on the frontier. During the delay
subsequent upon the change of trains, Harry made the following
memorandum in his notebook:--
"It seems to me that it is a great misfortune for Australia that each
colony insists upon having its own particular gauge of track, thus
preventing the running of through trains without change of cars. Some
day the people will find out their mistake, and I believe some of them
realize it already. Dr. Whitney says that there was at one time in the
United States several different gauges of track from four feet, eight
inches and one half up to six feet, and that the railway managers
generally agreed upon four feet, eight inches as the standard gauge.
Since that agreement all other tracks have been changed to make the
tracks uniform. Now any railway car can be run all over the United
States, with the exceptions of a few special lines where the gauge is
three feet, six inches.
"Three feet, six inches is the gauge of the railways of Queensland. That
of New South Wales is four feet, eight and one half inches, while that
of Victoria is five feet, three inches. In South Australia some of the
lines are of five feet, three inches gauge, and others have the same
gauge as the Queensland railways. The narrow gauge is especially adapted
to mountain regions, and also to thinly populated districts. On lines
where the business is light and the distances are not long, this gauge
answers all requirements, but on many lines, especially those having
considerable business, it is not at all advantageous."
During their railway ride our friends observed the strange combination
of aboriginal and English names, and called Dr. Whitney's attention to
it. "Here are Coolongolook and Coonabarabran," said Harry, "and next
come Clarkeville and Smithville. Here are Cootramundra and Illawarra and
Murrumbidgee close by Orange and Richmond. Here are Curabubula and
Waggawagga, with Warwrick and Union Camp. I could go on indefinitely
with those names, and it seems to me that the aboriginal ones are about
as numerous as those of British origin. They are picturesque and perhaps
interesting, but they are very difficult to pronounce."
"Isn't it possible that you will find the same state of things at
home?" queried Dr. Whitney.
"Quite possible; I have never thought of that. Let me see."
"Why, certainly," said Ned. "Go to Maine and New Hampshire and run over
some of the Indian names of lakes, rivers, mountains, and towns in those
States. Think of Kennebec and Penobscot, Winnipesaukee, Pemigewasset,
Passaconaway, and a good many others that I could name. I think it is an
excellent policy to preserve these old names and not let them die out.
Piscataqua is a much prettier name for a river than Johnston or
Stiggins, and Monadnock sounds better as the name of a mountain than
Pike's Peak or Terry's Cliff. The more the native names are preserved,
the better I like it."
"I agree with you," replied Harry; "but I wish they would make the
orthography of those native names a little easier. That's the only fault
I have to find with them."
The region through which our friends traveled was devoted to
agricultural and pastoral pursuits, as the numerous flocks of sheep,
herds of cattle, and fields of grain that they saw gave evidence. They
were told that it was also rich in minerals,--the few surveys that had
been made resulting in discoveries of gold, tin, silver, antimony, and
other metals. Some of the passengers whom they met on the train were
under the impression that Dr. Whitney was looking for a place in which
to invest money, and they were very anxious that he should stop and
investigate their promising properties. Several fine specimens of
gold-bearing quartz rock were exhibited, and the fortunate owners of
these specimens said that the ground was covered with them in the
locality where they were obtained. Dr. Whitney politely declined to
delay his journey, and assured his zealous acquaintances that he was not
looking for any new investments.
When our friends were out of earshot of the would-be speculators, Dr.
Whitney said that their statement reminded him of an incident which once
occurred at a town in California, where a quartz mill was in successful
operation. Harry and Ned pressed the doctor to give them the story,
whereupon he related as follows:--
"There were many speculative individuals around that town who were
constantly endeavoring to discover deposits of ore. One day one of these
speculators was standing on a street corner, when a solemn-faced Indian
came along, stopped in front of the man, and, after looking around in
all directions to make sure that nobody was observing him, he produced
from under his blanket a piece of gold-bearing quartz. Without saying a
word, he held the bit of rock before the eyes of the speculator.
"The speculator grasped the specimen with great eagerness. Sure enough
it was gold-bearing rock, and no mistake. It was generally believed in
the town that the Indians knew of valuable deposits, but were very
unwilling to divulge their location to the white men."
"'Where did you get this?' the speculator asked.
"The Indian made a sweep of his arm that embraced two thirds of the
horizon, but said not a word.
"'Is there any more where this came from?' queried the speculator.
"'Yes; heaps, heaps more,' and the red man made a circle with his arm
that might mean anything from a mole hill to a mountain.
"'Will you show me where you got this?' said the speculator.
"The Indian said nothing except to pronounce the words 'five dollar.'
"Unlike many of his associates, the speculator happened to have some
money about him. He thrust his hand into his pocket, drew out a
five-dollar gold piece, and placed it in the extended palm of the red
man.
"The latter examined the coin very carefully, even to the extent of
biting it between his teeth. Then he placed it in some mysterious
receptacle under his blanket and said:--
"'You with me come. You with me go share.'
"The Indian led his new partner a long walk, going out of the town on
the side opposite the quartz mill, making a circuit of a mile or two
among hills, and finally fetching up at the dump pile of the mill. The
dump pile, it is proper to explain, is the pile of ore as it is brought
from the mine to be crushed. Having reached the foot of the pile, the
Indian paused and said:--
"'Me get him here. Heaps more here, too.'
"A more disgusted individual than that speculator was at that moment
could rarely be found in the town. He had been completely outwitted, in
fact, sold, and by a savage who couldn't read or write."
From Stanthorpe on the frontier of Queensland the country was much the
same as that through which our friends had traveled from Newcastle,
except that its character was more tropical the further they went
northward. They reached Brisbane in the evening, and were out
immediately after breakfast on the following morning to view the sights
of the place, which were fewer than those of Sydney and Melbourne, as
the city is not as large as either of the others mentioned. The entire
population of Brisbane and its suburbs does not exceed one hundred
thousand. It is named after Sir Thomas Brisbane, who was Governor of the
colony at the time the city was founded. In some respects it may be
called an inland city, as it lies on a river twenty-five miles from the
entrance of that stream into Moreton Bay, which opens into the Pacific
Ocean. It is on a peninsula enclosed by a bend in the river, so that it
has an excellent water front.
Harry made note of the fact that Brisbane resembles Sydney in the
narrowness of its streets, but he added that the surveyors had some
excuse for restricting the amount of land reserved for the streets,
inasmuch as the space between the rivers was limited. The youths were
reminded of New York City when they noted that the streets of Brisbane
ran from the river on one side to the river on the other, just as do the
numbered streets on Manhattan Island. They had a further reminder when
an island in the river was pointed out to them as the site of a prison
during the convict period, just as Blackwell's Island of New York City
is the location of a prison to-day.
Queen Street is to Brisbane as George Street is to Sydney or Collins
Street to Melbourne. The principal shops and several of the public
buildings are located along Queen Street, and our friends observed that
wide verandas extended across the sidewalks from one end of the street
to the other. These verandas enable pedestrians to walk in the shade at
all times, a very wise provision to avoid sunstroke. It must be
remembered that Brisbane is considerably nearer the Equator than either
Melbourne or Sydney, and consequently has a warmer climate. Dr. Whitney
said that he was reminded of New Orleans by the temperature, and on
inquiry he ascertained that Brisbane is fully as warm as the great city
near the mouth of the Mississippi.
There is a fine bridge of iron which crosses the river between North and
South Brisbane. It is more than one thousand feet long, and has a draw
in the center to permit the passage of ships. Ned and Harry strolled
across this bridge when they reached the end of Queen Street, and on
arriving at its farther end they turned around and retraced their steps.
When back again in the principal part of the city, they continued to the
end of the peninsula, where they had expected to find huge warehouses
and places of business fronting the river. Instead of these edifices
they found the Botanical Gardens and other parks occupying the point of
land where the river makes its bend. It was an agreeable surprise to
them, and they remained in and about the gardens for an hour or more.
Whenever they came to any of the public buildings during their stroll,
they ascertained the name of each edifice from some by-stander or
shop-keeper. They observed that all the buildings were handsome and of
good construction, with the exception of the court house, which had a
very low and mean appearance. The curiosity of the youths was roused by
this circumstance, and Harry spoke to a good-natured cab driver to
ascertain how it happened.
"That's easy to tell, when you know," the driver answered.
"Well," said Harry, "if you know, won't you kindly tell us?"
"Certainly, sir," the driver responded. "You see this is the way of it.
That court house there used to be the female prison in the old times,
and for years it was crowded with women that the government had sent out
here to punish 'em. They were lifers, most of 'em, and I suppose they
are pretty near all dead now. If any of 'em is alive, they're pretty
old. Them that was kept in prison had to do hard work, making clothes
and that sort of thing, but a good many of 'em went out as assigned
servants to do housework, and they had to work in the fields, too; but
those days is gone now, and all the prisons we have in Brisbrane in
these times is for them that commits crimes right here on the spot."
"Do you mind that round building up there with the mast on it," said the
cab driver, pointing to a structure that looked like a windmill with the
arms of the mill removed.
"Yes, I see it," said Harry; "what about it?"
"We call it the Observatory," was the reply, "and that's what it is.
That mast there is for signaling ships when they come into the harbor.
In the old times there was a windmill there, where they used to grind
grain into flour and meal for the convicts to eat, and I guess other
folks ate it, too. When the wind blew the arm went round and round, the
machinery worked, and the stones revolved and ground out the meal.
Sometimes they didn't have no wind, because it didn't blow, but they had
a treadmill there, and then they used to bring up a string of convicts,
and put them on the treadmill to run the machinery and keep up the
grinding of the grain. I suppose you know what a treadmill is?"
"I have heard about a treadmill," said Harry, "but I never saw one." Ned
nodded, and said that he was in the same predicament.
"Well," said the driver, "I have seen one in the old country; I never
saw the one here, because it was gone before I came to Brisbane. What I
saw was a wheel in the shape of a long cylinder with twenty-four steps
around the circumference of it; in fact, it didn't look much unlike the
paddle-wheel of a steamboat, where the men stood to turn it. Each one of
'em was boarded off from his neighbor so that they couldn't talk to each
other. There was a hand rail for them to hang on to. The weight of the
prisoners' bodies on the steps caused the wheel to turn, and they sent
it around about twice a minute. A man on a treadmill has got to work, he
can't get out of it. If he tries to avoid stepping, he's got to hang his
weight on the hand rail with his arms, and after he has tried that for a
minute or so he's glad to go back to stepping again."
"I should think," said Ned, "that it would be difficult to adapt it to
the weight of different individuals, and also to their height. While it
might not be too much for a strong man, it might be for a weak one; and
if the position of steps and rail were adapted to a tall man, they
wouldn't be for a short one."
"I believe that's just the trouble they found with it in the old
country," was the reply; "and it's mostly been given up there. They've
got a machine in the place of it which they call 'the Crank,' which can
be adapted to anybody. It's a wheel with paddles to it, and turns inside
a box. They put gravel in the box, graduated to the strength of the man
who is to turn it, and the prisoner's hard labor consists in turning the
crank."
"It doesn't serve any useful purpose, as the treadmill does, I presume?"
said Harry.
"No; there is no useful purpose about it. A man has to turn that crank
because he's been sentenced to hard labor, and there's nothing else they
can put him to, that's all. And they don't by any means use the
treadmill all the time for turning machinery and grinding grain, or
doing some other work. Most of the treadmills I ever knew anything about
in the old country were just treadmills, and that was all."
Our friends were invited to visit a sugar plantation in Northern
Queensland. They accepted the invitation, and one morning embarked on a
steamer which took them in the direction which they wished to go. The
steamer called at several places on the coast, including Rockhampton,
Bowen, Mackay, Keppel Bay, and Somerset; the last-named place was their
destination, and it was here that they landed.
"We utilized the time of stoppage at each port by going on shore," said
Harry in his journal. "Except for the exercise of the trip, we might
about as well have stayed on board, as there was very little to be seen
at any of the places. The coast towns of Queensland are pretty much all
alike. They have from one to two thousand inhabitants each, and though
they're pretentiously laid out, they consist of little more than a
single street. On the streets, other than the principal one, there are
scattered houses, where the owners of land have endeavored to increase
the value of their property by putting up buildings, but generally with
poor success. For pavement the natural earth is obliged to answer, as
most of these towns are too poor to afford anything better. The streets
are very dusty in dry weather, and very muddy after a rain. At one of
the places where we landed there had been a heavy shower the night
before, and the main street was a great lane of mud. Ned said the street
was a mile long, eighty feet wide, and two feet deep; at least, that was
his judgment concerning it.
"One thing that impressed us in these towns was that hardly a man in any
of them had a coat on. Everybody was in his shirt sleeves, and if he had
a coat with him, he carried it on his arm. For the novelty of the thing,
we took dinner at a hotel in Mackay, more with a view of seeing the
people that went there, than with an expectation of a good meal. There
were squatters from the back country, planters, clerks, merchants,
lawyers, and doctors, all with their coats off, and we were told that
this habit of going without coats is universal. One man who had lived
there a good while said, 'You may go to a grand dinner party, and find
the ladies dressed in the height of fashion, and the gentlemen in their
shirt sleeves.' I don't wonder that they have adopted this plan, as the
climate is very warm. The region is decidedly tropical, the air is damp
and oppressive, and in the daytime especially the heat is almost
insupportable. I wonder, though, that they don't adopt the white linen
jacket for dinner purposes, just as the Europeans living in China and
Japan have done.
"Somerset, where we landed, is principally a pearl-fishing station, and
the pearl fishers who live there are a very rough-looking lot. The
business is very profitable, those engaged in it estimating that the
pearls pay all the expenses of their enterprise and a little more, while
the _nacre_, or mother-of-pearl, the smooth lining of the shells, is a
clear profit. The exportation of shells from Queensland is worth,
annually, about half a million dollars. The pearl shells sell ordinarily
for about one thousand dollars a ton. They are gathered by black divers
under the superintendence of white men.
"These white men own the sloops and schooners devoted to the pearl
fishery, and they go out with these craft, taking along a lot of black
men as divers. The diving is done in the same way as in pearl fisheries
all over the world, so that there is no necessity of describing it. The
shells are like large oyster shells; in fact, they are oyster shells and
nothing else. They are about twenty inches long, and from twelve to
fifteen inches from one side to the other; so, you see, it doesn't take
many oysters to make a load for a diver. The divers are paid according
to the number of shells they gather, and not by fixed wages. A man
familiar with the business said, that if you paid the men regular wages,
you would be lucky if you got one dive out of them daily.
"I tried to ascertain the value of some of the pearls obtained here,"
continued Harry, "but my information was not very definite. They told me
that several pearls worth five thousand dollars each had been taken, but
they were not very common, the value ordinarily running from a few
dollars up to one hundred or two hundred dollars each. My informant said
that the best pearls were found on the coast of West Australia, but that
the fishery in that locality was more dangerous than on the coast of
Queensland. He said that the sea in that locality was subject to
hurricanes, and sometimes an entire fleet of pearl-fishing boats would
be overwhelmed and sunk, hardly a man escaping. 'These disasters,' he
said, 'do not deter those who survive from taking the risk over again,
and there are always plenty of black men who go out as divers there
whenever a boat is ready to start.'"
To go to the sugar plantation to which our friends were invited, they
had to make a journey inland, in a wagon over a rough road about forty
miles long. The plantation was located on both sides of a small river,
and employed, at the time of their visit, about one hundred and fifty
men. One of the owners was there, and exerted himself to his fullest
ability to make the strangers comfortable and have them see all that was
to be seen. They visited the crushing mills and the boiling rooms, and
learned a great deal about the process of manufacturing sugar from the
sugar cane.
"We may say briefly," said Ned, "that the cane-stalks are crushed
between rollers, and the juice is caught in vats, whence it flows in
troughs or pipes to the evaporating house. Here it is boiled till it is
reduced to syrup, and then it is boiled again, until it is ready for
granulation. Then it is placed in perforated cylinders which revolve
with tremendous rapidity. By means of centrifugal force all the moisture
is expelled and the dry sugar remains behind."
Our friends visited the fields where the luxuriant cane-stalks were
growing, but they were quite as much interested in the men they saw at
work there as in the fields themselves. Harry remarked that the men
seemed to be different from any of the Australian blacks they had yet
seen in their travels.
"These are not Australian blacks at all," said their guide; "they are
foreigners."
"Foreigners! Of what kind?"
"They are South Sea Islanders principally from the Solomon Islands; some
of them are from the New Hebrides and some from the Kingsmill group."
"You import them to work on the plantations, I suppose?"
"Yes; that's the way of it. You see this country is too hot for white
men to work in the field, just as your sugar-growing States in America
are too hot for him to work in. The blacks are the only people that can
stand it, and as for the Australian blacks, they're no good. There are
not enough of them anyway, and even if there were, we couldn't rely upon
them. An Australian black will never stay in one place for any length
of time, as you have doubtless learned already. He is liable to quit at
any moment, and that sort of thing we can't stand on a sugar plantation.
We must have men to work steadily, and the only way we can get them is
by hiring them under contract from some of the Pacific Islands."
"I think I have read about that somewhere," remarked Harry. "You send
small ships out among the islands to pick up the men, and the business
is called 'black-birding,' is it not?"
"Yes, that is the name of it, or rather used to be," was the reply.
"Black-birding," along in the seventies, was an outrageous piece of
business no better than slave-stealing on the coast of Africa. In fact,
it was slave-stealing and nothing else. A schooner would appear off an
island, drop anchor and wait for the natives to come out in their
canoes, which they were sure to do. Then forty or fifty of them would be
enticed on board, and perhaps invited one by one into the cabin, whence
a door had been cut through into the hold. They were shoved along one by
one until a sufficient number had been obtained and imprisoned below,
and then the schooner set sail and left the island.
"Sometimes one of the officers was dressed up like a clergyman, with a
white necktie, broad-brimmed hat, and blue spectacles, and wrapped in a
long black cloak. He carried a large book under his arm, and was a very
good counterfeit of a missionary. He was rowed to the shore, where he
would inform the natives that their old friend, Rev. Dr. Williams, was
on board the vessel and would like to see them, and he would very much
like some fresh fruit. He explained the doctor's failure to come on
shore by saying that he had fallen on deck and broken his leg the day
before, and was then confined to his cabin.
"The natives would hasten to gather a large supply of fruit and take it
on board the schooner. Their fruit was piled on deck, and one by one
they were taken below, ostensibly to see their disabled friend, but
really to shove them forward into the hold in the manner I have
described. When a sufficient number had been entrapped the schooner
sailed away, and there was little probability that the deceived natives
would ever see their island again.
"That was the method formerly in vogue for supplying labor to the sugar
plantations in Queensland. The matter became so notorious that the
government investigated it and put a stop to 'black-birding.' At present
the business of obtaining men from the Pacific Islands is fairly well
conducted. On every ship that goes out for that purpose there is a
government officer whose duty it is to see that no deception or trickery
is practised, and that the contracts with the natives are fully
understood on both sides before they are signed.
"We hire these people for three years, and when that period has expired
we are obliged to return them to their homes. Formerly, they had the
option of renewing their contracts here without going away, and a good
many planters were careful to see that the men were heavily in debt at
the expiration of their term of service, so that they would be obliged
to engage again in order to get themselves out of debt, which they never
did. Now the government regulation forbids the renewal of a contract
here, and in order to have the agreement a valid one, it must be made
in the island whence the man was brought. Of course this is a hardship
where a man really does not want to go home, but, on the whole, it is
for the best."
Harry asked how they managed to get along with the natives of the
different islands, and if they proved to be good laborers.
"As to that," was the reply, "there is a great deal of difference among
them. The most of them are industrious and do fairly well, but nearly
all need a little urging. We don't flog them, as flogging is forbidden
by law, but the overseers generally carry long, supple sticks which they
know how to handle. They have to be careful, though, in using these
sticks, as some of the Kanakas, as we call the South Sea Islanders, are
revengeful, and they're very handy with knives.
"The men from the Solomon Islands are the worst to deal with, as they
have ugly dispositions; they are inclined to resent what they believe to
be an insult, and they are a strong, wiry race. They are quarrelsome
among themselves, and probably their tendency to quarrel is increased by
the fact that many of them are cannibals. Sometimes we miss one of these
fellows, and though we hunt everywhere, it is impossible to find him.
There are vague rumors that he has been eaten by his friends. The whole
business is carefully concealed from us, and it is very rarely the case
that we are able to get at the facts. It generally turns out, when we
ascertain anything about it, that the man was killed in a fight, and was
then cooked and eaten, to prevent his being wasted."
Harry remarked that the Solomon Islanders, as he saw them on the
plantation, were not a prepossessing lot of people, and he would not
care to be among them even for a single day.
The natives of the Kingsmill group were much more attractive in their
appearance, but even they were nothing to be fond of. On the whole,
neither of the youths took a liking to the laborers on the sugar
plantation, and as the place was said to be infested with snakes, they
were quite willing to cut their visit short and return to the coast.
THE END.
* * * * *
W. A. Wilde & Co., Publishers.
ABOVE THE RANGE. A Story for Girls. By Theodora R. Jenness. 315 pp.
Illustrated. Cloth. 12mo. $1.25.
An Indian story for girls. A mission school for the daughters of the
Dakota tribes is most interestingly described. The strange ideas and
beliefs of these wild people are woven into the thread of the story,
which tells how a little white girl was brought up as an Indian child,
educated at a mission school, and was finally discovered by her parents.
SERAPH, THE LITTLE VIOLINISTE. By Mrs. C. V. Jamison. 298 pp.
Illustrated. Cloth, $1,50.
A most charming and delightful story of a little girl who had inherited
a most remarkable musical talent, which found its natural expression
through the medium of the violin. The picturesqueness of Mrs. Jamison's
stories is remarkable, and the reader unconsciously becomes Seraph's
friend and sympathizer in all her trials and triumphs.
ORCUTT GIRLS; or, One Term at the Academy. By Charlotte M. Vaile. 316
pp. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
Mrs. Vaile gives us a story here which will become famous as a
description of a phase of New England educational history which has now
become a thing of the past--with an exception here and there. The
Academy, once the pride and boast of our fathers, has given way to the
High School, and girls and boys of to-day know nothing of the
experiences which "The Orcutt Girls" enjoyed in their "One Term at the
Academy."
MALVERN. A Neighborhood Story. By Ellen Douglas Deland. 341 pp.
Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
A most attractive and interesting story by a writer who has won a vast
audience of young people by her stories. Malvern is a small suburban
town in New Jersey. The neighborhood furnishes a queer assortment of
boys and girls. How they felt and acted, what they did, and how they did
it, forms an interesting narrative.
LADY BETTY'S TWINS. By E. M. Waterworth. With 12 illustrations. 116
pp. Cloth, 75 cents.
A quaint little story of a girl--a little girl--who had a propensity for
getting into trouble, because she had not learned the lesson of
obedience. She masters this, however, as the story tells, and in doing
so she and her brother have a number of experiences.
THE MOONSTONE RING. By Jennie Chappell. With 6 full-page
illustrations. 116 pp. Cloth, 75 cents.
An old ring plays an important part in this charming little story. It
brings together a spoiled child, the granddaughter of a rich and
indulgent old lady, and a happy little family of three, who, though
poor, are contented with their lot. This acquaintance proves to be of
mutual advantage.
THE MARJORIE BOOKS. 6 vols. Edited by Lucy Wheelock. About 200
illustrations. Price of set, $1.50.
A new set of books for the little ones, better, if possible, than even
Dot's Library, which has been so popular. Full of pictures, short
stories, and bits of poetry.
Boston: W. A. Wilde & Co., 25 Bromfield Street.
* * * * *
W. A. Wilde & Co., Publishers.
WAR OF THE REVOLUTION SERIES.
By Everett T. Tomlinson.
THREE COLONIAL BOYS. A Story of the Times of '76. 368 pp. Illustrated.
Cloth, $1.50.
It is a story of three boys who were drawn into the events of the times;
is patriotic, exciting, clean, and healthful, and instructs without
appearing to. The heroes are manly boys, and no objectionable language
or character is introduced. The lessons of courage and patriotism
especially will be appreciated in this day.--Boston Transcript.
THREE YOUNG CONTINENTALS. A Story of the American Revolution. 364 pp.
Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
The second volume of the War of the Revolution Series gives a vivid
and accurate picture of, and the part which our "Three Colonial Boys"
took in, the events which led up to the "Battle of Long Island," which
was thought at the time to be a crushing defeat for the Continental
Army, but which in fact was the means of arousing the Colonies to more
determined effort.
OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.
TRAVEL ADVENTURE SERIES.
By Col. Thos. W. Knox.
IN WILD AFRICA. Adventures of Two Boys in the Sahara Desert. 325 pp.
Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
This story is a fascinating and instructive one, and we cheerfully
commend the book to parents and teachers who have the responsibility of
choosing the reading for young readers.--The Religious Telescope,
Dayton.
THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO. Adventures of Two Boys in the Great Island
Continent. 318 pp. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
The late Col. Thos. W. Knox was a famous traveler and writer of boys'
books of travel and adventure. His last book (finished only ten days
before his sudden death) describes a portion of the world in which he
took a vast interest, and of which little is known in this country.
Australia, the great island continent, the land of the kangaroo, and a
country of contradictions, is most interestingly described.
OTHER VOLUMES IN THIS SERIES ANNOUNCED LATER.
QUARTERDECK & FOK'SLE. By Molly Elliot Seawell, author of "Decatur and
Somers," etc. 272 pp. Illustrated. $1.25.
Miss Seawell is exceptionally gifted in the line of instructing and
amusing young people at the same time, and many a boy pricks up his ears
at the sound of her name, in the hope of another of her lively, and at
the same time instructive and high-spirited volumes. This one will
sustain her reputation well, and will be read with eager
interest.--Congregationalist, Boston.
Boston: W. A. Wilde & Co., 25 Bromfield Street.