CHAPTER XV.

The drive to Blue Hill had been delightful and the view from the top

exceptionally fine, it being one of those clear, still days when distant

objects are brought near. It seemed almost possible to lay one's finger

upon the spires of Boston and the glistening dome of the State-house

miles away.

Bronson had exerted himself to the utmost. He wished to stand well with

all men, and particularly with the Franklin family. From a worldly point

of view it would have a most excellent effect for him to be seen driving

with pretty Edith Franklin, of Oakleigh. He was glad whenever they

passed a handsome turnout from Milton, and he was obliged to take off

his hat to its occupants. He felt that he had really gone up in the

world during the last year or two. It was a lucky thing for him, he

thought, that he had fallen in with Tom Morgan at St. Asaph's. By the

time he left college, which he was entering this year, he would have

made quite a number of desirable acquaintances.

His talk was clever, but every now and then he said something that made

Edith wince. He spoke of Neal, and was sorry he had gone to the bad

altogether. Had he really disappeared?

Edith hesitated; she had not the ready wit with which Cynthia would have

parried the question.

"We think he is in Philadelphia," she said, finally.

Bronson laughed.

"Hardly," he said; "I saw him in Boston a day or two ago. He looked

rather seedy, I thought, and I felt sorry for him, but I didn't stop and

speak. Thought it wouldn't do, don't you know; and I'm glad I didn't, as

you feel this way."

"I hardly know what you mean," said Edith, somewhat distantly; "we are

sorry Neal went away, that is all."

Though she thought he must have taken the money, Edith felt obliged to

defend Neal for the sake of the family honor. She had suffered extremely

from the talk that there had been in Brenton: she did so dislike to be

talked about, and this affair had given rise to much gossip.

"You are very good to say that," said Bronson. "How generous you are not

to acknowledge that Gordon stole the money to pay me."

"Stole!" repeated Edith, shuddering.

"I beg pardon, I shouldn't have stated it so broadly; but I'm so mixed

up in it, don't you know. It was really my fault, you see, that he felt

obliged to--er--to take it. But, of course, I'd no idea it would lead to

any such thing as this. I fancied Gordon could get hold of as much money

as he wanted by perfectly fair means. Will you believe me, Miss Edith,

when I tell you how awfully sorry I am that I should have indirectly

caused you any annoyance?"

He looked very handsome, and Edith could not see the expression of

triumph in his steely eyes. It was nice of him, perhaps, to say this,

even though there was something "out" in his way of doing it.

What was it about Bronson that always affected her thus, even though she

liked him, and was flattered by his attentions? She said to herself that

it was merely the effect of Cynthia's outspoken dislike. Unreasonable

though it was, it influenced her.

But now it came over Edith with overwhelming force that she had done

very wrong to come with Tony Bronson this afternoon. She was disobeying

her step-mother, besides acting most deceitfully. Yes; she had

deliberately deceived Mrs. Franklin when she wrote the note the day

before; for had she not had it in her mind then to allow herself to be

over-persuaded in regard to the drive? These thoughts made Edith very

silent.

And then they had driven through Brenton. Unfortunately an electric car

reached the corner just as they did. The gay little mare from the

livery-stable, which had been rather resentful of control all the

afternoon, bolted and ran. A heavy ice-cart barred the way. There was a

crash, and Bronson and Edith were both thrown out.

It was all over in a moment; but Edith had time to realize what was

about to happen, and again there flashed through her mind the conviction

of how wrongly she had behaved. What would mamma say?

It was significant that she thought of Mrs. Franklin then for the first

time as "mamma."

Bronson escaped with a few bruises, but Edith was very much hurt--just

how much the doctor could not tell. She was unconscious for several

hours.

Cynthia never forgot that night; her father away; her mother, with

tense, strained face, watching by the bedside; and, above all, the awful

stillness in Edith's room while they waited for her to open her eyes.

Perhaps she would never open them. What then? Beyond that Cynthia's

imagination refused to go.

She was sorry that she had been so cross with Edith about Bronson.

Suppose she never were able to speak to her sister again! Her last words

would have been angry ones. She would not remember that Edith had done

wrong to go; all that was forgotten in the vivid terror of the present

moment.

The tall clock in the hall struck twelve. It was midnight again, just as

it had been on New Year's Eve when she and Neal stood by the window and

looked out on the snow. The clock had struck and Neal had not promised.

Reminded of Neal, she put her hand in her pocket and drew out the

crumpled note. It had quite escaped her mind that she was to meet him

to-morrow. To-morrow? It was to-day! She was to see Neal to-day, and

bring him back to her mother. Poor mamma! And Cynthia looked lovingly at

the silent watcher by the bed.

Edith did not die. The doctor, who spent the night at Oakleigh, spoke

more hopefully in the morning. She was very seriously hurt, but he

thought that in time she would recover. She was conscious when he left.

The morning dawned fair, but by nine o'clock the sun was obscured. It

was one of those warm spring days when the clouds hang low and showers

are imminent. Mrs. Franklin was surprised when Cynthia told her that she

was going on the river.

"To-day, Cynthia? It looks like rain, and you must be tired, for you had

little sleep last night. Besides, your father may arrive at any moment

if he got my telegram promptly, and then, dear Edith!"

"I know, mamma," faltered Cynthia. It was hard to explain away her

apparent thoughtlessness. "But I sha'n't be gone long. It always does me

good to paddle, and Jack will be at home and the nurse has come. Do you

really need me, mamma?"

"Oh no, not if you want to go so much. I thought perhaps Edith would

like to have you near. But I must go back to her now. Don't stay away

too long, Cynthia. I like to have you within call."

Cynthia would have preferred to stay close by Edith's side, but there

was no help for it: she must go to Neal. Afterwards, when she came back

and brought Neal with her, her mother would understand.

She was soon in the canoe, paddling rapidly down-stream. A year had not

made great alteration in Cynthia's appearance. As she was fifteen years

old now her gowns were a few inches longer, and her hair was braided and

looped up at the neck, instead of hanging in curly disorder as it once

did; and this was done only out of regard for Edith. Cynthia herself

cared no more about the way she looked than she ever did. She did not

want to grow up, she said. She preferred to remain a little girl, and

have a good time just as long as she possibly could.

It was quite a warm morning for the time of year, and the low-hanging

clouds made exercise irksome, but Cynthia did not heed the weather. Her

one idea was to reach Neal as quickly as possible and bring him home.

How happy her mother would be! She wondered why he had not returned to

the house at once, instead of sending for her in this mysterious

fashion; it would have been so much nicer. However, she was glad he had

come, even this way. It was far better than not coming at all.

Her destination lay several miles from Oakleigh; but the current and

what breeze there was were both in Cynthia's favor, and it was not long

before she had passed under the stone bridge which stood about half-way

between. She met no one; the river was little frequented at this hour of

the morning so far from the town, for the numerous curves in the Charles

made it a much longer trip by water than by road from Oakleigh to

Brenton. A farmer's boy or two watched her pass, and criticised loudly,

though amiably, the long free sweep of her paddle.

Cynthia did not notice them. Her mind was fully occupied, and her eyes

were fixed upon the distance. As each bend in the river was rounded she

hoped that she might see Neal's familiar figure waiting for her.

And at last she did see him. He was sitting on the bank, leaning against

the trunk of a tree, and when she came in sight he ran down to the

little beach that made a good landing-place just at this point.

"Cynthia, you're a brick!" he exclaimed. "I was afraid you were not

coming."

"Oh, Neal, I'm _so_ glad to see you! Get in quickly, and we'll go back

as fast as we can. Of course I came, but we mustn't lose a minute on

account of Edith. Hurry!"

"What do you mean? I'm not going back with you."

"Not going back? Why, Neal, of course you are."

"Not by a long shot. Did you think I would ever go back there?"

"Neal!"

Cynthia's voice trembled. The color rose in her face and her eyes filled

with tears.

"Neal, you can't really mean it?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why did you send for me?"

"Because I wanted to see you. There, don't look as if you were going to

cry, Cynthia. I hate girls that cry, and you never were that sort. I'll

be sorry I sent for you if you do."

Cynthia struggled to regain her composure. This was a bitter

disappointment, but she must make every effort to prevail upon Neal to

yield.

"I'm not crying," she said, blinking her eyes very hard. "Tell me what

you mean."

"I don't mean anything in particular, except that I wanted to see you

again, perhaps for the last time." This with a rather tragic air.

"The last time?"

"Yes. I've made up my mind to cut loose from everybody, and just look

out for myself after this. If my only sister suspects me of stealing, I

don't care to have anything more to do with her. I can easily get along

until I'm twenty-five. I'll just knock round and take things easy, and

if I go to the bad no one will care particularly."

"Neal, I had no idea you were such a coward!" exclaimed Cynthia,

indignantly.

"Coward! You had better look out, Cynthia. I won't stand much of that

sort of thing."

[Illustration: "YOU WERE AFRAID TO BRAVE IT OUT. AFRAID!"]

"You've got to stand it. I call you a coward. You ran away like a boy in

a dime novel, just because you couldn't stand having anything go wrong.

You were afraid to brave it out. _Afraid!_"

There was no suspicion of tears now in Cynthia's voice. She knelt in the

canoe very erect and very angry. Her cheeks were crimson, and her blue

eyes had grown very dark.

"I tell you again to take care," said Neal, restraining his anger with

difficulty. "I did not send for you to come down here and rave this

way."

"And I never would have come if I'd thought you were going to behave

this way. I'm dreadfully, _dreadfully_ disappointed in you, Neal. I

always thought you were a very nice boy, and I was awfully fond of

you--almost as fond of you as I am of Jack, and now--"

She broke off abruptly and looked away across the river.

If Neal was touched by this speech he did not show it at the moment. He

stood with his hands in his pockets, kicking the toe of his boot against

a rock.

"Of course I couldn't stay there," he said, presently. "Your father as

good as called me a thief."

"He didn't at all. He didn't really believe you had taken the money

until you ran away. Then, of course, every one thought it strange that

you went, and I don't wonder. And I couldn't tell how it really was,

because I had promised you; but I'm not going to keep the promise any

longer, Neal. I am going to tell."

"No, you can't. You've promised, and I won't release you. I am not going

to demean myself by explaining; they ought to have believed in me. But I

wish you would stop scolding, Cynthia, and come up here on the bank. I

can't talk while you are swinging round there with the current."

After a moment's hesitation Cynthia complied with his request. It

occurred to her that perhaps she could accomplish more by persuasion

than by wrath. Neal drew up the boat and they sat down under the tree.

"Where have you been all this time?" asked Cynthia.

"In Boston, first. I've been staying with several fellows. I gave out

that I was going to Philadelphia, for I thought you would be looking for

me, and it is true, for I am going, some time soon. Then I went to

Roxbury, and yesterday I walked out from there and found that little

shaver to take the note to you."

"Have you told your friends that you ran away?"

"No. Why should I? Fortunately I took enough clothes, though these are

beginning to look a little shabby. I spent last night in a shed. I've

only got a little money left, but it will answer until I get something

to do."

"Neal, do you know you are just breaking mamma's heart?"

Neal said nothing.

"She has looked so awfully ever since you left, and she wrote to you in

Philadelphia, and papa went on, but we had to send for him to come back

on account of Edith."

"What about Edith?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? Edith had a fearful accident yesterday. She was

driving with--she went to drive, and was thrown out and was terribly

hurt."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Neal, with real concern in his voice. "How did

it happen? Was it one of your horses?"

"No," said Cynthia, hurrying over that part of it, for she did not want

Neal to know that Edith had been with Bronson; "but she was very much

hurt, Neal. She was unconscious nearly all night, and the doctor thought

perhaps she--she would die. Oh, Neal, won't you come back? Won't you

please come back?"

Neal rose abruptly, and began to walk up and down the little clearing.

"I wish you wouldn't, Cynthia," he remonstrated; "I've told you I

couldn't, and you ought not to ask me. I'm awfully sorry about Edith,

and I'm sorry Hessie feels so badly about me. I'll give in about one

thing. You can tell her you have seen me and that I am well. You needn't

say I'm going to the bad, but very likely I shall. You mustn't say a

word about having lent me the money, I will not have that explained.

There, it has begun to rain."

A few big drops came pattering down, falling with loud splashes into the

river.

"Oh, I must hurry back!" exclaimed Cynthia, hastily drying her eyes.

"It's only going to be a shower. Come up here where the trees are

thicker, and wait till it is over. See, it's all bright over there."

Cynthia looked in the direction indicated, and seeing a streak of cloud

that was somewhat lighter than the rest, concluded to wait. Perhaps she

could yet prevail upon Neal to come.

They went into the woods a short distance, and though there were not

many leaves upon the trees as yet, they were more protected than in the

open. It was raining hard now.

"Neal," said Cynthia, in her gentlest tones, "when you have thought it

over a little more I'm sure you will agree with me. Indeed, you ought to

come."

"I have done nothing else but think it over, and I tell you I am not

coming, Cynthia. I wish you wouldn't say any more. I sent for you

because I wanted to see you once more, and now you're spoiling it all. I

don't believe you care a bit about me."

"Oh, Neal, how can you say so? You know I do care, very much. I'm

awfully disappointed in you, that's all. I always thought you were brave

and good, and would do things you ought to do, even when you didn't want

to. It does seem selfish to stay away and make mamma feel so badly, when

it would only be necessary to come home and say you had borrowed the

money of me, to make everything all right. It seems very selfish indeed,

but perhaps I am mistaken. I dare say I'm very selfish myself, and have

no right to preach to you, but if you could see mamma I'm sure you would

feel as I do."

Neal remained silent.

"But I still have faith in you," continued Cynthia. "I think some day

you will see it as I do. I am sure you will. Oh, dear, how wet it is

getting."

The rain was coming down in torrents. The ground was wet and soggy, and

their feet sank in the drenched leaves. The canoe, drawn up on the bank,

was full of water.

"I ought to have gone home. It is going to rain all day, and mamma will

be so worried."

The clouds had settled down heavily, and there was no prospect whatever

of the rain stopping.

"I must go right away; I am wet through now. Oh, Neal, if you would only

go with me! Won't you go, Neal?"

But Neal shook his head.

"Very well; then it is good-by. But remember what I said, Neal. It's

your own fault that the family think you took it. And if mamma or any

one ever asks me any questions about what I am going to do with Aunt

Betsey's present, I'm not going to pretend anything. If they choose to

find out I lent it to you, they can. You won't say I can tell them; so,

of course, I can't do it, as I promised, but I sha'n't prevent them

finding it out. Oh, Neal, do, _do_ come!"

"I'm a brute, Cynth, I know, but I can't give in. You don't know how

hard it is for me ever to give in. I'll remember what you said. Please

shake hands for good-by to me, if you don't think I'm too mean and

selfish and heartless and a coward, and everything else you've said."

"Oh, Neal!" cried Cynthia, as she grasped his hand with both of hers,

"some day I'm sure you will come. Good-by, Neal."

They turned over the canoe, which was full of rain-water, and then

Cynthia embarked. Suddenly an idea occurred to her--she would make one

more effort.

"Neal, you will have to go part way with me. I'm really afraid to go

alone. It is raining so hard the boat will fill up, and it will take me

so long to go alone."

Neal could not resist this very feminine appeal. He hesitated, and then

got in and took the extra paddle.

"I'll go part way. Cynthia, but I won't go home. Of course I can't let

you go off alone if you're afraid. I never knew you to be so before."

With long, vigorous strokes they were soon pulling up-stream.

Occasionally one of them would stop and bail with the big sponge kept in

the boat for emergencies.

The rain splashed into the river, and the dull gray stream seemed to run

more swiftly than usual. It looked very different from its wont. Cynthia

and Neal, many times as they had been together on the Charles, had never

before been there in a storm.

"Everything is changed," thought Cynthia: "even my own river is

different. Will things ever be the same again? Oh, if Neal will only

give in when we get near home!"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A WAR FLEET IN TRAINING.

BY W. J. HENDERSON.

The fleet cruiser _Minneapolis_ lies straining at her arched cable off

Tompkinsville, Staten Island. The last of the flood tide is singing

around the outward curve of her powerful ram, and a gentle southerly

breeze is floating to leeward from her massive yellow smoke-stacks, two

columns of oily-brown smoke, for the signal "spread fires" flew from the

flag-ship hours ago, and the fleet is in readiness to get under way.

Down in the fire-room the coal-passers feed the giant furnaces that roar

for more. Water-tenders and machinists glide hither and thither watching

the boilers and the machinery. On the platforms beside the twin engines

stand engineer officers waiting for the signal to start the propellers.

Brass-work and steel-work glitter with the splendor of a new polish, and

under all rumbles the dull monotone of the dynamo.

On the bridge stand the Captain, the Executive Officer, the navigator,

the officer of the watch, the cadet whose duty it is to watch for

signals, and a signal boy. A seaman stands by the wheel, and a

quartermaster stands beside him. On the after-bridge stand the

junior-officer of the watch, a quartermaster, and two signal boys. About

the decks are hundreds of seamen ready to jump to their allotted

stations. All are silent, eager, alert.

"Signal, sir," says the cadet, referring to his fleet signal-book;

"137--get under way."

A word from the Executive Officer, and the steam-winch rolls in the

cable. A touch upon an electric button, a rattle of jangling bells

below, and the mighty engines turn slowly over, taking the strain off

the cable, and sending the ship up to her anchor. Another string of

flags runs to the signal-yard of the flag-ship.

[Illustration: SIGNALLING FROM THE FLAG-SHIP.]

"Form column of vessels," reads the cadet from the signal-book, "natural

order." A minute later the North Atlantic Squadron, Admiral Bunce

commanding, is steaming in single file out toward the Narrows, the

flag-ship _New York_ leading, followed by the _Minneapolis_, _Columbia_,

_Raleigh_, _Montgomery_, _Cushing_, _Ericsson_, and _Stiletto_. A

triangular shape swings point up half-way between the Deck and the

signal-yard of the _New York_. It means half-cruising speed--five knots

an hour--and the other ships repeat the signal. Silently, majestically,

keeping their distances like soldiers on parade, the powerful steel

cruisers and the agile torpedo-boats move down the Conover Channel,

around the Southwest Spit, past the Hook bell-buoy, out the Gedney

Channel, and past the old red light-ship to the open sea. Another string

of signals rises on the flag-ship, and the answering pennants flutter on

the other ships while the signal-book says,

"Form double column."

[Illustration: "FORM DOUBLE COLUMN!"]

Every ship knows her place, and in a few minutes the right wing is made

of the _Minneapolis_, _Montgomery_, _Cushing_, and _Stiletto_, and the

left of the others, the flag-ship at the head and in the centre. The

speed is now up to the full cruising limit--ten knots an hour--and as

the ships go rolling and bowing over the Atlantic swells, their keen

prows send up fountains of silvery foam that spread away on either bow

in streamers of snow on the living blue. The flag-ship signals the

course, and again the others answer with the pennant of perpendicular

red and white stripes. The quiet of an orderly sea-march settles down

over the fleet, yet never for one instant, night or day, does vigilance

relax, for at any moment signals may break out on the flag-ship, though

they be nothing more than some vessel's number to warn her that she is

out of position.

But other signals do appear, for this is no holiday cruise, but one of

practice and ceaseless drill. Fleet tactics are executed almost without

rest. "Form line of battle, wings right and left front into line;" "By

vessels from the right front into echelon," "Front into line,"

"Squadrons right turn," "Form line, left wing left oblique," "Form

column, vessels right turn," and dozens of other orders are given by the

flag-ship, and executed with precision and accuracy which would amaze a

landsman, but which probably fall far short of the high ideal in the

Admiral's mind. Empty, paradelike manoeuvres these would seem to the

ignorant, but it was the skill of his captains in the execution of such

movements, combined with their knowledge of his plans, that enabled

Nelson to hurl his fleet upon that of Villeneuve at Trafalgar with such

fatal accuracy after hoisting only three signals to the yard-arm of the

_Victory_.

In the darkness of a cloudy night one of the ships is detached with

secret orders. She is to indicate an enemy's force, and to fall upon the

fleet at some unexpected hour the next day. From the moment of her

departure the lookouts on the remaining ships doubly strain their eyes,

and not a spar rises above the horizon that is not studied with all a

seaman's skill. In the first dog-watch of the next afternoon, when the

sailors forward are amusing themselves with pipe and song, the lookout

in the foretop cries,

"Steamer ho!"

[Illustration: "All HANDS CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION!"]

In answer to the questions of the officer of the watch, he says the

smoke looks like that of a cruiser. The _New York_ has seen her too, and

the next minute signals fly at her yard-arm. The Captain nods, and the

hollows of the ship are filled with the sharp beating of a drum, the

shrill screeching of boatswains' pipes, and the sound of heavy voices

bawling, "All hands clear ship for action!" That is a thrilling cry,

even in time of peace, and half-slumbering sailors spring to their feet

with staring eyes and panting breath. Marines rush to the arm-racks to

get their rifles, belts, and bayonets. Officers buckle on swords and

revolvers, and spring to their stations.

[Illustration: LOADING A BIG GUN.]

And now begins a brief period of bustling activity, which to a landsman

would seem like confusion itself confounded. Boats are lashed around

with canvas to keep splinters from flying, extra slings are rigged on

yards and gaffs to keep them from falling to the deck if struck by shot,

breastworks of hammocks are made on bridges, forecastle, and poops,

stanchions and rails are sent below, and everything that can be removed

is taken from the deck so that the guns may have a clear sweep. The

magazines and fixed ammunition-rooms are thrown open, and the men of the

powder division take the stations allotted to them for keeping up a

continuous supply of ammunition to the whole battery. Hatch-covers are

lifted, shell-whips are rigged for hoisting away the heavy charges for

the big guns, and chutes are placed for sending empty cartridge-cases

below. The men belonging to the lighting-tops go aloft and hoist

ammunition for their guns. The crews of the main battery open the

breeches of their great weapons, sponge out the chambers, insert the big

steel shells and powder cartridges, and stand waiting for orders.

At last all is ready, and the division officers report to the Executive

Officer, who in turn reports to the Captain.

The flag-ship signals the order for the formation for attack, and then

at full speed the vessels dash forward. Signals follow signals, and the

ships go through swift and graceful evolutions, until the Admiral's

programme has been fully carried out. Then the vessel that was detached

to represent the enemy lowers over her side a pyramidal target of white

canvas with a black spot painted in the centre. She steams back to her

position in line. Now the vessels in turn glide slowly along at a

distance of 1600 or 1800 yards from the target, and the thunder of great

guns fairly shakes the heavens, while the massive steel projectiles

strike the water around the target, and thrash it into glaring geysers

of milk-white foam. It would be a sad time for any hostile ship if she

lay where that target is.

At last the target practice is over, while a great cloud of gray smoke

drifting slowly off to leeward, and the signal "Secure" at the

flag-ship's yard-arm, are all that remain of the recent scene of action.

Once again signals direct the formation of the fleet in double column,

and like some giant duck leading a flock of monster ducklings across the

sea the _New York_ swims away, followed by her steel companions. This

time the fleet steers for a harbor. Again the red and blue flags blossom

at the _New York_'s yard-arm like the magic flowers in the last scene of

a fairy play.

"Two thirty-seven," reads the cadet from the signal-book; "anchor in

column."

With the precision of carriages driven to a church door at a wedding the

big ships and the little torpedo-boats stop at their proper stations,

and the hoarse rumble of cables through hawse-holes tell that the

anchors have gone down. All but three--for see, there go the three

torpedo-boats, spinning around on their heels, and gliding out of the

harbor as silently and as swiftly as mice. There is to be a torpedo-boat

attack. This will be made under cover of the darkness, and the anchored

ships will strive, by means of their search-lights, to detect the

assailants. If the torpedo-boat succeeds in approaching a certain ship

within a given distance without being seen, she is credited with having

sunk or disabled that ship, for that is what she would do in time of

war.

[Illustration: FIRING FROM THE MILITARY TOPS.]

The night is intensely dark, and the blinding search-lights pierce the

blackness in every direction with their shafts of dazzling white. Under

the shallow of the land, with every light extinguished, the

torpedo-boats, painted a color which blends with that of the sea, steal

noiselessly toward the fleet. Suddenly they separate, and with lightning

speed dash forward. See! a brilliant light falls on one. She is caught,

and the firing of rifles and Gatling-guns from the tops shows that she

is hotly received. The other two escape detection, and make their

presence known inside the circle. Red and while lights flash signals

along the main rigging of the _New York_. The day's work is over, and

erelong tired blue-jackets hear the bugles blow the welcome notes of the

tattoo.

[Illustration: A LANDING PARTY.]

The next morning the flag-ship hoists the signal for a landing-party.

Boats are lowered away, and Jack Tar prepares to go ashore as a

seaman-infantryman. With his brown canvas leggings, his brown belt and

knapsack, his formidable rifle and bayonet, the sailor makes a

serviceable coast soldier. At a signal from the flag-ship the boats are

hauled to the companion-ladders, and the men pour into them. Rifles are

laid down, and oars are taken up, for Jacky rows himself ashore. Another

signal, and the boats, shooting out from the sides of the ships, fall

into their allotted places. Again a signal, and they start for the

shore, the oars in the rowlocks beating time to a sort of sea-march. As

the boats strike the beach the bugle sounds the "assembly," and in a few

minutes the battalion of marines and seamen-infantry is formed. The band

from the flag-ship strikes up "Nancy Lee," and with that invigorating

swing that belongs to Jack Tar alone the battalion marches inland, where

it goes through all the evolutions of the street riot and battle drills,

and finishes with a dress parade to the delight of all the boys in that

part of the land.

And thus from day to day the work of the squadron runs on, the Admiral

constantly propounding new topics for its study; for no one knows better

than a naval officer the necessity of being ready for active service at

a moment's notice. That readiness can be attained only by obeying the

good old maxim: "In time of peace prepare for war."

[Illustration]

BUTTERFLY BOWS.

BY MILDRED HOWELLS.

Once a little girl existed

Who was fond of pomps and shows,

And upon her braids insisted

Tying two great scarlet bows.

Though her father couldn't bear them,

And her gentle mother said

That she wished her child should wear them

Tied with modest bows instead.

But their wishes she made light of,

And her gaudy ribbons grew

Bigger every day, in spite of

All her friends could say or do.

Till this child, all counsel spurning,

Found with horror and surprise

That her bows were slowly turning

Into monstrous butterflies.

First they gently swayed and fluttered,

Then with spreading wings they flew,

Ere one sad farewell was uttered,

Straight into the welkin blue.

So she vanished; still her mother

Hopes those wandering bows will bring

Back her daughter, when the other

Butterflies return with Spring.

[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]

This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young

Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on

the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address

Editor.

It isn't a very hard task to set the table, is it, girls? Yet I find

that it takes skill, taste, and pains to do this simple thing so very

nicely that the family coming to the table three times a day will have

the feeling that they have been expected, and their comfort and pleasure

planned for.

One important thing to be considered when setting the table is the

table-cloth. This should be of fair white linen, if possible, with a

pretty pattern of ferns or blocks or clover leaves, but even if it be

coarse, and not beautiful in design, it must always be spotlessly clean.

Do not let the laundress starch your table-cloth. No starch is needed.

It must, however, be ironed with exquisite nicety, folded evenly down

the middle, and the crease made by folding shown plainly by the pressure

of the flat-iron. A table-cloth must not be laid upon the bare table.

Next to the table you must have a heavy undercloth of felt or Canton

flannel. This serves several purposes. It removes the danger of injury

to the table itself from hot dishes, which sometimes leave a disfiguring

white rim or scarred edge upon it polished surface, it deadens sounds,

and it brings out well the pretty figures on the cloth. If used with

care, an undercloth of this kind will last a long time, and I have found

Canton flannel much more satisfactory than felt.

When you begin to set your table for breakfast or dinner, decide on the

places for the different members of the family, and then do not change

these except when you have guests. Mamma will have before her the tray

with the cups and saucers, the tea things, and the coffee urn. I hope

you make tea and coffee on the table; it is a graceful occupation for

the house-mother, and insures your always having clear coffee, and hot,

delicious tea, and is, besides, very little trouble once the habit has

been established. A simple French coffee-pot with an alcohol lamp, a

small tea-kettle also with a lamp, a tea-caddy, and a rule always

adhered to, will make these processes simple. Cups and saucers and the

cream-jug, sugar-bowl, and spoon-holder should be beside the mother's

place.

Oatmeal and other cereals, if served on the table at breakfast, should

stand by the sister or brother who dispenses them. It is best to begin

with a fruit course, and, therefore, finger-bowls, fruit doilies, and

plates, with the knives, forks, and spoons needed for this, should be on

the table when the family seat themselves. If you wish to save trouble,

and have the meal pass on in an orderly manner, you may place by each

plate all the knives, forks, and teaspoons which will be required during

a meal. These will be used one by one, always beginning with that on the

outside, farthest from the plate, and as the maid changes the plates for

each course she will remove the knives and forks which belong to that.

Flowers should form a point of beauty for the eye, and decorate every

home table. You do not need many; a single rose or cluster of lilies,

three or four pinks with a few sprays of mignonette, a few stalks of

salvia, a half-dozen asters, with geranium leaves or lemon verbena, or

sweet-peas in the season, nasturtiums, golden and glowing as flame, are

very ornamental. A cut glass bowl, or a clear bowl of pressed glass, if

bright and free from lint, a china vase, or any pretty bouquet-holder

will answer for the purpose of holding the flowers, which must be

removed and replaced by others the moment they become withered and

faded; never keep dying or dead flowers in any living-room, and, above

all, never let them remain an hour on your table. Wild flowers are the

loveliest things for ornamenting the table, and you may have as many of

them as you can mass effectively.

It is optional--that is, you may do as you like about the placing of

food on the table. But I think the prettier way, when it can be done, is

to set the roast on the table for the father to carve, and serve the

vegetables from a side table. Salad, with thin wafer crackers and cream

cheese, is a course by itself. Dessert follows this; coffee comes last

at dinner, and you may ask people if you choose to step from the table

to the library, or the porch, if it be in the summer-time, and sip their

after-dinner coffee there.

Pretty bread-and-butter plates, with knives of their own, are a great

convenience, and if you are saving up your money as a family to give

mother a particularly acceptable Christmas gift, why not buy her a set

of these?

[Illustration: Signature]

[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

This Department is conducted in the interest of Amateur

Photographers, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any

question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should

address Editor Camera Club Department.

MARINES.

Last year many of the pictures sent in labelled "Marines" were really

landscapes showing, perhaps, a tiny bit of water. A marine, strictly

speaking, means a sea picture, but when prizes are offered for marines,

views on lakes and rivers are always admitted, so that one need not

necessarily send in a picture taken at the sea-shore.

Among the most attractive of marine views are those showing a view of

rugged cliffs with the surf beating against them, where wave after wave

"breaks on the rocks, which, stern and gray, shoulders the broken tide

away." To obtain the most successful picture of such a scene one should

use a tripod, and get as clear a focus as possible. Get the plate ready,

set the shutter, and then wait till a big wave comes rolling in, and,

breaking against the rocks, sends the spray high in air. At the very

instant that it strikes the rock snap the shutter, and if the exposure

has been all right, the picture will be everything to be desired of the

breaking waves. Use a small diaphragm (6/32 being a good size), and make

a quick exposure. If the day is rather dull use a size larger diaphragm

and a trifle slower exposure.

A stretch of sandy beach with the tide coming in makes a good marine,

especially if there are plenty of clouds in the sky. Such a picture must

have some object in the foreground in order to secure the effect of

distance and perspective. A piece of drift-wood, an old wreck, or any

object of suitable size that one finds along the shore, will do to break

the level of the sand.

Marine views also include pictures of water-craft. Yachts are the most

graceful of water-craft, but the old dory is not to be despised. One of

the marines which took a prize last year was entitled, "Stranded." It

was the picture of a once handsome yacht, which had been driven ashore

by a storm, and was lying partly on its side on the beach. The cloud

effects in this picture were very good, and added much to the beauty of

the picture. The picture was well taken, and the subject a rather

uncommon one for a photograph.

Another marine sent in last year was a picture of a lighthouse, built on

jagged-looking rocks, taken when the tide was just coming in. Still

another, which was not strictly a marine, was a view of a long line of

vessels drawn up at the dock. The picture had the effect of a street of

ships instead of houses.

The prizes offered for marine and landscape views are less than those

offered for figure studies, as marines or landscapes are usually much

easier pictures to make than figures.

The entry for "Marines" closes on October 15th, for after that date

there is usually little opportunity for making successful water

pictures. Be sure and get your pictures in at least a week before this

date. Take special pains with the finishing and mounting, as technical

excellence is one of the points for which the pictures are to be marked.

SIR KNIGHT JOHN H. CHAMBERS says that his last batch of negatives

were so black that he could get no prints, and asks if there is

any way to remedy them. The plates were developed too long and are

too dense. This can be reduced by the following process: Cyanide

of potassium, 1/2 oz.; water, 10 oz. Dissolve and add 2 drachms of

bromine water. Soak the plate in clear water for a few minutes

till the film is softened, and then immerse in this solution for a

few seconds. Take out and wash, and if the negative is still too

dense immerse it again. Repeat the process till the film is

reduced sufficiently. Label the bottle "Poison," and keep it

carefully locked up when not in use. One should have a plate

lifter, or use rubber finger-tips when handling the plates with

this solution. Sir John also says that the gelatine gets black

first on the side next to the plate when developing. If the tray

is kept gently rocking during development the development should

be from the top downward. When the image is seen from the back of

the plate it is supposed that development has proceeded as far as

it will, and the plate is left in the developer simply to acquire

the proper density. This can be judged by looking through the

plate toward the light, holding it rather near the light. Sir John

says he would like to start a Camera Club or Chapter, and wants

members of the club to write and send suggestions and also to join

the Chapter. We have several successful Chapters already, and

would like to have more among our members.

SIR KNIGHT OCTAVE DE MAURIAC, P. O. Box 596, Middletown,

Connecticut, would like correspondence from Sir Knights or

chapters interested in photography. Will answer all letters, and

would also like to exchange photographic prints.

SIR KNIGHT HARRY H. LUTHER, of Nantucket, Massachusetts, says he

would like to become a member of the Camera Club. We are very glad

to add the name of Sir Harry to our club list. As he writes from

Nantucket, Massachusetts, we shall expect some fine marine

pictures from him for the coming contest. Sir Harry asks for

papers on retouching, special toning, formulas, etc. These papers

are ready for publication and will soon appear.

ON BOARD THE ARK.

BY ALBERT LEE.

CHAPTER IX.

The ex-Pirate very good-naturedly put his head under the table and

pulled the Gopher out from the pile of debris and broken crockery. The

little beast did not appear to have suffered any injury beyond tearing a

gash in his pink sun-bonnet, and as soon as he had resumed his place at

the table he looked about him and smiled just as if nothing had

happened.

"You don't seem to mind your fall a bit," remarked the Sheep, somewhat

surprised.

"Oh, I don't mind it at all," answered the Gopher, complacently.

"I thought you would be dreadfully cut up," put in the ex-Pirate.

"So did I, at first," continued the Gopher; "but only my sun-bonnet got

cut, and that was badly cut in the beginning anyway, so that this extra

slash does not make any particular difference. And what do you suppose I

saw under the table?"

"Feet," said the ex-Pirate, at a venture.

"That's pretty good for a first guess," retorted the Gopher; "but I saw

something else."

"What did you see?" quickly asked Tommy, who was beginning to feel that

he had been out of the conversation long enough.

"I saw It," answered the Gopher.

"You don't say so!" exclaimed the Sheep.

"Indeed I did. Do you want to play a game?"

"Certainly, I'm getting awfully tired of sitting here. Let's play a

game."

"I wish you would explain," broke in Tommy. "You are talking about all

sorts of things, and I can't understand a word. What is this all about?

What is it the Gopher saw under the table?"

"Why, he saw It," answered the ex-Pirate.

"Well, what is that?" asked Tommy.

"Don't you know what It is?" exclaimed the ex-Pirate, his eyes opening

very wide with surprise.

"No, I don't," replied the little boy, bluntly, "and I wish you would

explain."

"Goodness!" gasped the Gopher. "Where did you come from? Did not you

ever play any games?"

"Certainly," said the little boy; "but what has that to do with it?"

"You could not very well play any games without It," insisted the

Gopher.

"It," declared the ex-Pirate very slowly and impressively, "is the one

that runs after you when you are playing tag, and the one that hides his

face and shuts his eyes when you play hide-and-go-seek."

"Oh, I've played those games lots of times," said Tommy.

"Then you must have seen It," put in the Sheep.

"Never," said Tommy.

"How did you play, then?" asked the ex-Pirate.

"One of us was it, of course," explained Tommy; "and when he caught

another, the other was it."

"How funny," said the Gopher. "Why, with us It is always It. That's the

fun of the game."

"Of course it is," added the ex-Pirate. "I don't see how you could play

without It. We had an It on board the _Black Avenger_, and we used to

play tag for exercise when we were becalmed. But one day, in a storm, it

was washed overboard, and we had to go without playing games all the

rest of the voyage."

"How stupid of you!" remarked Tommy. "Why did not you take turns being

it?"

"Never thought of such a thing," admitted the ex-Pirate, frankly. "You

will explain to us how it is done, some time, won't you?"

"Why, of course," replied Tommy. "I'm sure it's very simple."

"Is it simpler than dominoes?" inquired the Gopher. "I never could

understand dominoes. You see, there's no It in that, and that makes it

so complicated."

"Yes, the lack of an It complicates games very much," said the

ex-Pirate. "But let us play an easy game now. Go down and butt him out

from under the table," he added, turning to the Sheep.

The latter obligingly jumped to the floor and disappeared under the

table. A few moments later Tommy heard a thump, followed by a whizzing

sound, and then a queer-looking something sped out from under the table

and slid along the floor as though it had been shot out of a catapult.

"That's It," said the Gopher, unconcernedly. And then they all got up

and walked over to where a new sort of a queer creature, such as Tommy

had never seen before, was getting itself together after its encounter

with the Sheep's head. Tommy took in the peculiar features of the

new-comer as carefully and completely as he had taken in the other

unusual events of the day.

It was an undersized being that walked on two legs, and corresponded

somewhat to the little boy's idea of what a dwarf ought to be, except

that Tommy had always thought of dwarfs as being round and fat, whereas

this creature was exceedingly thin, almost bony, "by reason of his

constantly playing games," explained the ex-Pirate. Its head went up

almost to a point, on top of which grew a little tuft of hair, which

Tommy at first took to be a small fur cap; and the utter lack of

expression in his pallid face betokened that It had no understanding

whatever beyond his own sphere of utility.

"Perhaps that's why he is willing to be it all the time," thought Tommy.

"I'm sure he does not look as if he knew enough to object."

By this time the Sheep had rejoined the group and was ready to play.

"I don't want to play any game of chance," said the ex-Pirate when the

Gopher asked what it should be.

"No; we won't have any game of chance," agreed the Sheep.

"I don't see how you could," ventured Tommy, "if It is in the game. It

strikes me that if It is always It, there is no _chance_ for him."

"Of course not," answered the ex-Pirate; "there's no chance for him

ever, but we don't consider him. _We_ take all the chances."

Tommy did not understand, but this was nothing new to him, and he

consented to play anything that would please the rest.

They decided to have a game of Bumpolump. It took the ex-Pirate fully

fifteen minutes to explain to the little boy how Bumpolump was played,

and even then Tommy never got a clear idea of it, and was unable to give

his Uncle Dick the slightest explanation of how it was done, except that

It had an inordinate amount of running about to do, while the others

seemed to get all the fun. And at the end everybody got a prize except

It.

"I should not think you would like this," said Tommy to It,

sympathetically.

[Illustration: "MY LIFE IS ONE LONG PURSUIT OF THE UNATTAINABLE."]

"I don't," answered It. "I've gotten quite beyond that. My life is one

long pursuit of the unattainable. How does it feel to succeed?"

Tommy, not knowing just what to say under the circumstances, hesitated;

but before he could reply It continued:

"You see, I always apparently succeed in all I do--just as in

Bumpolump--but I never enjoy the fruits of success. The others always

get the prizes, and I have to start all over again. Some day--"

But just then an Ibex came along, and saying "Excuse me" to Tommy, he

butted It up to the other end of the room, where a lot of little Ibexes

and Zebus immediately began to hop about, apparently playing some game

with It, who was laboring with his utmost energy.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]

There will be two sets of football rules in use by the college teams

this fall. Yale and Princeton will be governed by one code, while

Harvard, Pennsylvania, and Cornell will play their games according to

another. The official rules of last year will also stand, to be adopted

by the smaller colleges, the athletic clubs, and possibly by the

schools, although I should advise the schools to accept the amendments

made by the universities, and adopt either the Harvard or Yale code,

with a preference in favor of the latter.

The first important change is found in Rule 8, and relates to the fair

catch. Yale and Princeton have it that a fair catch is a catch made

directly from a kick by an opponent, or from a punt-out by a player on

the side having the ball, provided the man making the catch does not

advance beyond a mark which he must make with his heel, and provided

also no other player on his side has touched the ball. The player is not

required to raise his hand as a sign that he intends to make a catch,

and if he is interfered with, or thrown by an opponent, he will receive

fifteen yards, unless that would carry him across the goal-line, in

which case he receives only half the distance. In the Harvard

regulations the definition of a fair catch is the same as the one just

given, but the player catching the ball cannot run with it, although he

may pass it back to one of his own side, who may then run with it or

kick it. If this is not done the ball must be put in play where the

catch was made. In case the player fails in his attempt at making the

catch, the opponents have an equal chance at the ball.

The most radical change made by Yale and Princeton (and an excellent

one) is in regard to mass plays. The rule covering this point states

that in scrimmages not more than one man shall start forward before the

ball is in play, and not more than three men shall group themselves at a

point behind the line of scrimmage before the ball is put in play,

although the man playing the position of either end rush may drop back,

provided he does not pass inside the position occupied by the man

playing adjacent tackle before the ball is put in play.

As to the officials of the game, Yale also makes an innovation. This

year there will be an umpire, a referee, a linesman, and an assistant

linesman, any one of whom may disqualify a player under the rules,

subject, of course, to the approval of the umpire, who alone may be

appealed to by the captains regarding fouls and unfair tactics. These

officials are also empowered to formulate ground rules prior to each

game, governing the disposition of the ball in case it touch or be

obstructed by some person or object surrounding the field of play, but

the referee must announce the rules as made to the captains before

calling play.

In the triple alliance there are to be two umpires, a referee, and a

linesman, the umpires being judges of the conduct of the players, the

referee being judge of the position and progress of the ball, and the

linesman being judge of time, and of the distance gained and lost by

each play. The umpires shall also see that no coaching is done while the

game is in progress, and they have the power to send behind the ropes

any substitute or other person who attempts to advise the players while

the ball is in play.

Off-side play will be punished by Yale and Princeton by the enforcement

of the rule that says that if a player when off side touches the ball

inside the opponent's ten-yard line the ball shall go as a touch-back to

the opponents. These colleges further legislate that seven men or more

must be in the rush line until the ball has been put in play, except in

the case I have already cited, where the ends may drop back.

It is hardly necessary for me to say to every man who is playing

football this year that the first thing for him to do is to secure one

of the new books of rules and study all the changes that have been made.

Space permits me to make but a very brief mention here of a few of the

innovations. The man who is playing on the field, however, must have

every clause at his finger-tips, and know the spirit and the letter of

the law by heart. Every scholastic league should decide at once which

code it will use this year, so that the captains of the teams may begin

to train their men in the new methods that some of the changes require.

The teams of the Connecticut league have been at work for two weeks or

more now, and several unimportant practice games have been played. The

Hartford High School players started in with preliminary unlimbering at

Crescent Beach early in September. Only five men of last year's team are

back again, although Captain Bryant confidently counted on six. Smith,

who played centre last fall, shot himself in the foot recently, and will

be laid up for some time. Bryant, therefore, will try it between the

guards for a while, and if Smith comes back later, he will be put in at

tackle. Goodell will be the other tackle, while Ingalls, the

hammer-thrower, and Lyman will go in at guards. The ends are much in

doubt, but Monahan, Ralyea, and Garvan stand good chances. Sturtevant

will probably make quarter-back, while Chapman and Jenkins will no doubt

be found at half at the end of the season. Luce, who did good work on

the quarter-mile track last spring, is the strongest candidate for

full-back. On the whole, the team is a light one.

The prospects for a good team at Exeter are bright this year, although

so far no game has been arranged with Andover. The old feud seems to be

still on deck. (But I hope to devote some space to that bit of

childishness later. Now we are talking football.) Five of last year's

players are back at P.E.A.--Scannell, Kasson, Breen, Gibbons, and

Hawkins. Scannell is Captain, and besides being a good player himself,

he is able to put life into his men. He graduated from the Newmarket

High-School in '89, and entered the academy in the fall of '92. That

season he made the second eleven, and played a good game. In the spring

term he made the baseball team, and filled the position of centre-field

with credit to himself and honor to the academy. He is a hard worker, he

is a little heavy for tackle, but his quickness overcomes this handicap,

and by the end of the season he will doubtless train down.

Centre rush will be taken care of by Kasson, who did good work on the

'94 eleven, and he will have a veteran in Breen as his right guard,

unless Connor proves a better man. A candidate for tackle is Higley, who

held that position last year for Andover. Another is Evans from Lowell,

who was Captain of his High-School team last year. During the season the

school had a long string of victories and retrieved its reputation,

which was last dwindling in the defeats of the five previous years.

Evans appears to be a brilliant man, but he does not know the game well

enough to play at Phillips Exeter without a great deal of coaching. He

stands 5 feet 10 inches, and weighs 170 pounds. For ends Gibbons, Shaw,

and Robinson are the most likely candidates. Hawkins, Martin, and

Botcher will try for quarter-back. Hawkins did good work last year, and

is plucky. That he will not give up his position without a tussle is

very evident from his practice-work. Martin, formerly of Andover, will

press him hard. When at Andover he played quarter on the second eleven,

and did good work. He is active and cool-headed.

For half-backs, J. B. Gibbons is sure of one position. He played an

excellent game last year, and will undoubtedly develop further this

fall. McLane will probably take care of the other side. Whitcomb and

Headden are trying for full-back. Whitcomb is a swift runner, and

distinguished himself last spring, when he smashed the school record in

the quarter-mile race. He is showing up well, and plays a good game.

Headden is not so sure a man as Whitcomb, and will require a great deal

of coaching. The Exeter team's first game of the season was played

against South Berwick on September 17th, and resulted in a victory for

the crimson and gray by a score of 6-0.

In the New England League it looks as if there would be a hot contest

again this year for the championship. Cambridge High and Latin has

nearly all of last year's team back. There will be only three vacant

places in the line, Baldwin, right end, Stearns, right guard, and

Columbus, left end, not having returned to school. Among the new men

with the squad are Hawes, Seaver, and Barnes. The backs will probably be

the same as last year, Campbell, Curry, and Parker, with Saul for

quarter-back.

Last Friday the Newton High-School eleven played the Brookline

High-School team at Brookline to determine which one should be taken

into the Senior League, the former having been the tail-ender in the

Senior League last year, while Brookline was an easy winner in its own

class. The contest occurred too late in the week for me to be able to

comment on it here, but I hope to say something of the game next time.

As to the two elevens, Brookline had a good nucleus to build upon.

Morse, Hutchins, Aechtler, Gillespie, North, Lewis, and Cook are on

deck, the latter as Captain. Hutchins, who was one of the best centres

in the Junior League last fall, will play the same position this year.

He is quick on his feet, snaps back quickly, and breaks through well.

Gillespie, at right tackle, is another good man. He is quick in breaking

through and smashing up the opponent's interference. North, who played

end last year, has been moved up to left half-back, where he is winning

new laurels by his fine running and dodging. For the position of

full-back, Boyce, substitute on last year's eleven, has the best chance.

He hits the line hard and low, and is good at punting. Two new men, both

named Talbot, have secured the position of right and left guards. They

are brothers, and know little about football, but since the beginning of

hard practice they have developed wonderfully under careful coaching.

Seaver and Parker are both trying to make quarter-back. Parker, though

handicapped by his light weight, 118 pounds, has proved himself the best

man for the place so far.

Newton's team, on the other hand, is badly handicapped by the loss of

most of last season's players, and the new men do not seem to be built

of the stuff that grabs championships. Captain Lee is beyond question

the best man on the team. He is a veteran in his position of centre

rush, and is an earnest and conscientious worker. He has been obtaining

a lot of good coaching as a candidate for the Newton Athletic Club's

eleven, and the points he has thus picked up he has taught his men. He

is 5 feet 10 inches in height, and weighs 180 pounds. He is an

aggressive player, and quick to take advantage of an opponent's

weakness.

Of the new-comers he has got to lick into shape, Howard is the most

promising candidate. He is trying for the position of right guard, the

place left vacant by Paul, who was the star player of last year's team,

and who is trying for a place in the line of the Newton Athletic Club

this season. Howard, while rather slow on his feet, has the making of a

good player. Van Voorhees will be found at left guard, and Brigham, who

gained much experience on the Newton Athletic second eleven last year,

will prove a formidable man at left tackle. He is quick in getting

through the interference, and tackles hard and low.

The other tackle will probably be Johnson, who is pretty light for such

a place, but his activity may make up for other deficiencies. Colbing

will make right end a hard place to get a gain. Forssen, a new man, will

go in at quarter, while the halves will be Chase and Burdon. Chase is

the surest ground-gainer, and can be depended on to advance the ball

every time it is given to him. Burdon is good for around-the-end plays,

as he is a fast runner, good dodger, and uses his blockers to the best

advantage. His chief fault is in not starting the second the ball is

snapped. Bryant is pretty sure of full-back, as he is the best punter on

the team. He runs low and hard, but is apt to fumble.

What has weakened the Newton team more than the lack of old material,

however, is the preference the candidates for positions on the eleven

have been showing for tennis. For the past ten days a tennis tournament

has been in progress, and many of the football-players have been trying

for the prizes there in preference to practicing with the eleven on the

school grounds.

The interest in football and baseball has always been greater in the New

England schools than in almost any other, as I have frequently found

occasion to mention in these columns. An additional proof of this fact,

if any such proof were needed, is that the Boston English High-School,

besides putting a strong school team into the field, is supporting class

teams. The class of '98 especially is doing good work in that direction,

and intends to arrange games, if possible, with all the first-year

classes in Boston. Such teams are bound to be a good thing for the

institutions that have them, as there is no better way of developing

material which will eventually prove of vast benefit to the first team.

The kicking game of the present will be taken advantage of by the

Cambridge M.T.S. eleven, for Captain Murphy has among his new men as

good a punter as there is on any team. This man is Yeager. Last year he

made some reputation by returning for Brewer and Fairchild of the

Harvard eleven in their practice before the Springfield game. After

catching the longest punts he would return the ball by a punt of the

entire distance. As a rusher Yeager has not such a good reputation, but

with White and Thompson as side partners he will easily be brought up to

the standard. Another good man that Captain Murphy may rely upon is

Seaver, who used to go to Brown and Nichols'. He has of late been

practising with C.H. and L., and will try for an end on the C.M.T.S.

team. Last year he broke his arm at the first of the season, but his

play improves daily. Brown, who tried for an end in '94, is out again

for the same position. Francis and Young are other candidates for end.

All these men are light, wiry fellows, but seem to have ability, which

needs only careful coaching to bring it out.

The other men behind the line give promise of developing into clever

players--Sawin especially. He did well at quarter-back a season ago, but

his light weight makes him practically useless in interference, and

easily stopped when running with the ball. But he is plucky, and that

counts for much. White and Thompson will be the halves, the latter

coming in from full-back, where Yeager's punting makes it necessary to

keep him. White developed into a speedy rusher last year, and was always

in place in the interference. He has a peculiar style of running, and

when he strikes the line whirls around; but nevertheless he proved a

ground-gainer in last season's games. Thompson is a veteran. He gains

the most ground when figuring in centre plays, but this year he will be

trained for runs around the end.

The players for the vacancies are an enterprising lot, who, with proper

training, can be moulded into shape. The men for the forward positions

are Hazen, Hayman, and Burns for centre, and Frye, Gray, and Whitney for

guards. Hazen is a big fellow, but has never played much, while Burns,

though eight pounds lighter, has played off and on for the last two

years. Frye played full-back on the Salem High-School team last year,

but is better qualified for a line position. He is a strongly built

fellow, and weighs 168 pounds. Gray, a substitute in '94, will try for

guard again this year. Whitney, another candidate, tips the scales at

162 pounds. This is a light team, take it all in all, but there are lots

of good stuff in it, and with good coaching ought to carry the C.M.T.S.

colors pretty well to the top by November.

THE GRADUATE.

RASPBERRY AND COCOANUT CREAMS.

Here are two receipts for delicious candies that you will like to make,

but they will require, as many candies do, confectioner's sugar for

kneading purposes. A pound of this will be enough to buy at first. Add

to a dessert-spoonful of raspberry jam enough confectioner's sugar to

make a paste. If the flavor is not acid enough add a tiny bit of

tartaric acid, crushed very fine. Roll the sugar and jam into small

balls with the palms of your hands. Then take some of the hardest

fondant that you have and melt it in a cup in boiling water, just as you

did in making chocolate creams. Add a drop or two of cochineal coloring

to make it a pale pink. Now dip your balls in this exactly as in the

chocolate creams. If the little balls are not smoothly or neatly covered

they can be dipped twice, allowing time enough for the first coat to

harden. For cocoanut creams take two table-spoonfuls of grated cocoanut

and dry it in a cool oven, or you can use desiccated cocoanut instead.

Work the cocoanut well into half as much fondant candy, and then shape,

into balls, using confectioner's sugar to stiffen the mass sufficiently

for handling. Melt some fondant, flavor it with vanilla, and dip the

balls in it, as directed in the other receipts. Dipping the candies

twice will probably be the rule, as they will rarely look smooth enough

after the first coating.

A CLEVER SUGGESTION.

The book-agent who really means to make his way in the world has to be a

person of an inventive turn of mind. People rarely want to buy the books

he has to sell, and it is his hard fate often to have to argue long and

strongly in favor of his wares. The most ingenious of these hard-working

people that has yet come to notice is the one told about by one of the

London papers. The agent in question had a volume to sell that did not

go off exactly like hot cakes, and at one particular house he was met

with a most decided rebuff.

"It's no use to me. I never read," said the householder.

"But there's your family," said the canvasser.

"Haven't any family--nothing but a cat."

"Well, you may want something to throw at the cat," suggested the agent.

The book was purchased.

A NOVEL FLY-CATCHER.

Every year some new scheme is brought forth for the purpose of catching

flies and relieving housekeepers of the buzzing little nuisances. But up

to date nobody has ever thought of employing a mouse in that capacity,

until a certain ambitious mouse proved his talents for that sort of

thing. It is not known positively whether all mice have a taste for

flies, but it is certain that one particular little representative of

the mouse family has gained great fame by the able manner in which he

has disposed of all the insects within reach. The _Shepherdstown_ (West

Virginia) _Register_ has sung his praises, and he is quite a noted

character in that town. This mouse made a hole for himself inside the

show-window of a drug-store in Shepherdstown, and when a number of flies

were about his mouseship appeared from his abiding place. It mattered

not how many people stood within the store or blocked the pavement

outside. He seemed to know that he would not be molested, and devoted

himself exclusively to the fly-catching business. Standing on his

hind-legs, with his forepaws resting against the glass, he would grab a

fly and then retreat behind some boxes and eat it. Again he would catch

the insect while on the wing, jumping into the air and dealing it a blow

with one tiny paw, but quick as thought in securing his prey. He would

eat all of the fly except the wings with the greatest relish, and after

one of his raids the window would be covered with the discarded wings of

his victims. It would be quite interesting to get the opinions of this

little hunter in regard to his unusual diet, and find out whether he

looked upon flies in the light of ordinary beefsteak, or regarded them

as delicacies, such as quail on toast or terrapin.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Highest of all in Leavening Strength.--Latest U. S. Gov't Report.

[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]

Arnold

Constable & Co

* * * * *

GLOVES

_"Courvoissier," "Dent, Allcroft & Co.," and "Fownes."_

"Courvoissier's" four-button Glace Kid, all shades, $1.50 per pair.

* * * * *

MEN'S DRIVING GLOVES

* * * * *

Broadway & 19th st.

NEW YORK.

Say, Boys!

We have been telling you about the

"Rugby" Watches

for some time.

If you have not sent for the "Rugby" Catalogue, you are pretty

late. It is your misfortune.

Turn over a new leaf and send at once. You will have your eyes opened

when you see the beautiful designs on the cases. The catalogue tells all

about them.

The Waterbury Watch Co.,

Waterbury. Conn.

[Illustration]

WONDER CABINET =FREE=. Missing Link Puzzle, Devil's Bottle, Pocket

Camera, Latest Wire Puzzle, Spook Photos, Book of Sleight of Hand. Total

Value 60c. Sent free with Immense catalogue of 1000 Bargains for 10c.

for postage.

INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 Cortlandt Street, N.Y.

=HARPER'S CATALOGUE= thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will

be sent by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC 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, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.]

The fourth stage of the shore-line trip from New York to Boston is a

short one, of not more than twenty-eight miles, extending from New

London to Shannock. Leaving the Pequot House, if that is the point where

you have put up at New London, you should proceed into the city of New

London along the trolley-car route, go at once to the ferry near the

railway station, and cross to Groton. There are two routes from here

eastward. It is possible for you to either turn to the left immediately

on arriving on the Groton side of the Thames, and proceed some distance

up the river (less than a mile, altogether), turn to the right, and run

over through Centre Groton, Burnets Corner, and so on, following the

secondary route marked on the map through Mystic, and joining the main

bicycle road again at Stonington. This route is, however, not only more

hilly, but the road is in a poorer condition, and passes through a less

picturesque country.

The rider should therefore proceed direct from the ferry along the

turnpike-road to Mystic Bridge, passing over Poquonock Bridge. Crossing

the Mystic River at Mystic Bridge, the road continues direct to

Stonington, a distance of about ten miles from New London. If you are

making the journey to Shannock in one run--in a morning, for

example--and if you have determined to reach Providence before night,

you can make a short-cut, after crossing the bridge leading into

Stonington and before crossing the railroad, by turning to the left and

joining the turnpike-road again a mile or more out from Stonington. From

here on the road through Wequetequock is in fair condition, though it is

not of the best. In case you run into Stonington and make a stop, you

should run out onto the main road by Matthews Street. The road from

Groton to Stonington is in parts remarkably good, and, especially at

this time of year, the whole route as far as Westerly will be found to

be a good bicycle run, if the side path is occasionally resorted to

between villages. Crossing the river at Westerly you are now in the

State of Rhode Island. Thence proceed through Potters Hill, Laurel Dale,

Ashway, to Hopkinson. From Hopkinson on to Shannock, a distance of

between seven and eight miles, the road is hilly in parts, and by the

time the rider has passed through Woodville and Caroline Mills, and run

into Shannock, he will be ready for a rest, at least for some time,

especially if he has ridden all the hills at a good speed.

It should be remembered, as was said last week, that this run, which is

not more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine miles at the most, can be made

half a day's run, and the journey thence continued to Providence.

Shannock would be about half-way, and the two routes might be done in

one day, and can easily be so done by any rider who cares to do between

fifty-five and sixty miles. It is by no means a long ride, and probably

you will be much more comfortable in Providence overnight than in

Shannock. At the same time, following out our plan of making short, easy

trips, and taking it for granted, as we have done, that the average

rider goes for pleasure, with time enough at his disposal, we shall

divide this distance into two stages.

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

820. Trenton to Philadelphia in 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.

SOME DON'TS FOR BICYCLERS.

BY WILLIAM HEMMINGWAY.

Don't try to do too much. Ambition to shine as a "scorcher" has

seriously injured the health of many a good, strong rider. Probably no

form of exercise is so full of temptation to over-indulgence as is

wheeling. Except during the moments of hill-climbing, it is so easy to

send the machine spinning along.

How often you hear riders say, "I'm feeling languid and draggy to-day.

Can't imagine what's the matter. Had a splendid ride of sixty miles

yesterday." Isn't that explanation enough? The effects of too great

fatigue often last as long as life itself. If the muscles alone were

concerned it wouldn't matter so much, but the great trouble lies in

another quarter. There is always danger of injuring the heart. One can

recover from a strained muscle or sprained joint or broken bone, but let

the heart be once badly strained, and you may be sure that the evil

effects will last a lifetime.

Is there a way of knowing when one has ridden enough? Yes. Whenever you

feel that you couldn't dismount and run a quarter-mile at good speed, it

is time to stop wheeling. Better get off and take a rest. Better still,

put away the wheel for the day. There will be many other days, and you

can enjoy them all the more if you have a sound heart.

Don't wheel up a steep hill. Leave that sort of thing to fellows who

haven't enough sense to go in when it rains. What gain is there in it,

anyhow? You can walk up and push your wheel just as fast, and with

one-quarter of the exertion. If too much wheeling on the level road is

bad, too much hill-climbing is ten times worse. If you could look into

the minds of the smart hill-climbers, you would find that they half kill

themselves to make bystanders think they are wonderful riders. Really,

that sort of thing is too silly to talk about with patience.

Don't coast too much. If you feel that life without coasting is a

mockery, then go to some hill that you are thoroughly familiar with,

where there are no crossings, where you can watch the road for at least

one hundred miles ahead, and then take care. No matter whether you have

coasted down the hill a hundred times before or not, the danger is

always just as great. Perhaps we are never in so great peril as when we

think we know it all.

Don't "scorch" in the streets. At any crossing you are liable to run

over some pedestrian or to collide with a big truck or carriage. Either

one may mean a life lost, or at least broken bones. You wouldn't drive a

horse at a 2.40 gait through the streets. Remember a bicycle is quite as

dangerous.

Don't ride on the left side of the street. Your place is on the right

side, because a bicycle is a vehicle in the eyes of the law, having the

same rights and subject to the same rules as any other vehicle. If

anything happens to you because you are on the wrong side of the street

you cannot recover damages.

Don't think, because somebody you know has wheeled a "century," that you

must do it too. There is really very little satisfaction in riding one

hundred miles merely for the sake of saying that you have done it. If

any other wheelman chooses to tire his muscles and overstrain his heart

for a mere bit of boasting, let him do it. I know that most of us are

sorely tempted by the "century" folly. But think a moment. If you owned

a fine thoroughbred horse, would you run the risk of ruining him forever

by speeding him to the utmost limit of his strength for a whole day? Yet

is not your own health more valuable to you than all the horses in the

world?

Don't let your cyclometer be your master. Make it your servant. Don't

think, "I have wheeled thirty-seven miles to-day, now I'll run a mile

and a half up the road and back so as to make an even forty." Use the

cyclometer to find out how soon you must stop, not how much further you

must go.

Don't neglect your wheel. Because it doesn't eat is no reason why it

should be starved. It needs oil. It should be cleaned regularly after

every ride. Be sure that all the bearings are oiled at least once for

every one hundred miles travelled. In hot weather the oil runs off

faster. Lubricate your chain every time you go out for a spin. See to it

that the dust-caps are all in perfect order. Dust wears out bearings

much faster than ordinary use.

Don't go out in the late afternoon without a well-filled lamp,

especially if you live in New York. Think of the scores of wheelmen who

have been fined for riding at night without lights, to say nothing of

the danger of going unlighted.

* * * * *

AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION

is cheaper than any quantity of care. Don't give children narcotics or

sedatives. They are unnecessary when the infant is properly nourished,

as it will be if brought up on the Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed

Milk--[_Adv._]

ADVERTISEMENTS.

[Illustration: RICHARDSON & DE LONG ad]

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

[Illustration]

You See Them Everywhere

Satisfaction and Speed in

Columbia Bicycles

The famous Hartford Single-Tube Tires with which Columbia Bicycles are

equipped add much to the pleasure Columbia riders have in bicycling.

Even the dreaded puncture loses its terrors with Hartford Single-Tubes.

Repaired in a minute. Anyone can do it. Dunlop tires, best of double

tubes, if you prefer.

POPE MFG. CO.

HARTFORD, CONN.

[Illustration]

"Napoleon"

Handsome, instructive.

One of the new

Parker Games

For Boys and Girls.

* * * * *

"Innocence Abroad,"

"Waterloo,"

"Chivalry,"

"Yankee Doodle."

ASK FOR THEM.

Postage Stamps, &c.

=1000= Mixed Foreign Postage Stamps, including Fiji Islands, Samoa,

Hawaii, Hong Kong, for 34c. in stamps; 10 varieties U. S. Columbian

stamps, 25c.; entire unused 5c. and 10c. Columbian Envelopes, 25c. the

pair. Only a limited number were issued by U. S. Government. E. F.

GAMBS, Box 2631, San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1872.

STAMPS

Send reference and 2c. stamp for our fine approval sheets at 50% com.

=PENN STAMP CO., Wind Gap, Pa.=

=100= Fine foreign stamps from China, Queensland, Tasmania, etc., all

different, only 10 cents; 25 all different, Persia, etc., only 4 cents.

JUDSON N. BURTON, Madison, New York.

[Illustration]

100 all dif. Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti,

Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts w't'd at 50 per ct. com. List FREE! =C. A.

Stegmann=, 5941 Cote Briliante, St. Louis, Mo.

=500= Mixed Australian, etc., 10c.; =105 varieties,= and =nice= album,

10c.; 15 unused, 10c.; 10 Africa, 10c.; 15 Asia, 10c. F. P. Vincent,

Chatham, N.Y.

=25= var. foreign stamps and price-list free for 2c. stamp.

EXCELSIOR STAMP CO., Keyport, N. J.

=STAMPS.= 100 for 12c.; 40 U.S., 25c.; _no rubbish_. 50% com. KEYSTONE

STAMP CO., Lebanon, Pa.

=FREE=--25 diff. Japan, Mexico, etc. Send 2c. stamp.

J. A. WILSON, 1108 Fairmount, Phila., Pa.

Clever Camping Hints.

The Round Table has interested me greatly. Therefore I venture to

offer the suggestions which follow:

When camping on beach or in the mountains, on prairie or in

forest, it is a good plan to have in the outfit a number of iron

pins or stakes about half an inch thick and twelve or fifteen

inches in length. Three of these should be driven into the ground

deep enough to ensure their staying upright, and so near together

that pot, kettle, or pan, and perhaps the coffee-pot, will stand

safely on the ends of the pins when the coals are glowing or the

sticks are blazing beneath. It will be found that this simple

kitchen range is for several reasons better than any pole on

forked stakes can be, and is incomparably better than a camp-fire

without some device for ensuring the uprightness of pot or pan.

Many campers make their camp-fires by laying the sticks with the

middle on the coals or the blaze. The better way is to put the

ends to the fire. The fire can be managed much more easily in that

way, by withdrawing a few sticks if the heat is too great, or by

pushing a stick or more in between the pins and under the

cooking-vessel if the heat is not enough. Camp-fires are often

made too big for the needs and for the comfort of the campers.

I have seen a camp-fire made on the surface of a broad lake, and

far from the nearest land, yet not in the canoe. If there had been

a couple of shovelfuls of sand or earth, the fire might have been

made in the canoe. As it was, the Indian gathered a few armfuls of

green sedges and grasses and threw them on the water, then made

the fire on the top of the heap, and soon had roast duck for

dinner.

An axe is a clumsy and a dangerous tool in canoe and in camp. It

is awkward in shape, and heavy. It can be used for many purposes,

but the machete can be used for all the purposes for which an axe

is used, except for heavy pounding, and is admirably adapted for

many other uses. Millions of people from Texas to Patagonia have

long found the machete an ever-ready tool.

Machetes are of many shapes and sizes. The laborer who clears

trees and bush from land uses a broad and heavy blade. It is some

eighteen or twenty inches in length, and may be three inches wide

at its widest. The traveller will carry a machete which is like a

heavy sword, and may be straight like a rapier, or curved

somewhat, like a cavalry sword. This blade may be two feet or even

twenty-six inches in length. For camp uses I should choose one

like those the laborers use. A leathern sheath with belt go with

some classes of machetes. With one of these an effective blow can

be struck for cutting brush, trees of moderate size, or the flesh

and bones of game. It will be useful in skinning animals or in

cleaning fish. In short, there is scarcely any cutting about a

camp which cannot be done far better with a machete than with the

best of axes, and the price is the same as that of an axe.

I have found no better bed than is made by having a wide hem

turned along the edges of very wide canvas. Through these hems run

slender poles, that may be used during the day in pushing a canoe

over shallow waters. The ends of the poles may rest in notches in

two logs, to hold them apart, or in crotched stakes driven into

the ground, and stayed apart by sticks lashed to them. When not in

service as a bed this cot may be used as a tarpaulin to cover the

baggage in the canoe.

E. W. PERRY.

SOUTHBRIDGE, MASS.

The Music Rack.

SOME ANECDOTES OF PAGANINI.

Nicolo Paganini was a typical violinist. He obtained a permanent

position at the court of Luca in his twenty-first year, after

remarkable success as a boy, and there composed such powerful

concertos fortnightly that Napoleon's sister, Eliza Bacciocchi,

was each time overcome when Paganini reached the harmonic sounds.

One day Paganini announced to the court that he would shortly play

a novel love-song. He accordingly played a wonderful sonata on two

strings--G and E. G represented the lady, E the man. The court was

carried away with the beauty of the piece. At the end the Princess

Eliza remarked to Paganini, "Since you have done so finely a thing

on two chords, can you make us hear something marvellous on one?"

Paganini smilingly agreed; and after some weeks, on the day of St.

Napoleon, executed a brilliant piece on the chord C, which he

entitled "Napoleone."

Paganini, the elder, was an avaricious and unnatural father. When

Nicolo's gains had amounted to twenty thousand francs the father

threatened to kill him if the whole was not given over. But the

mother was faithful, and after the father had passed away Paganini

said, "I took care of my mother--a sweet duty."

Though loaded with honors given by the Pope, the Emperor of

Austria, the King of Prussia, and others, yet the latter part of

Paganini's life was a constant struggle. He was of a delicate

make-up, and his whole being was wrapped, as it were, in his

violin. He met much opposition in his last years. A favorite

saying of his was, "One must suffer to make others feel." Schottky

affirmed that Paganini possessed a musical secret by means of

which a pupil could obtain a conception of the capacities of the

violin in three years. This secret, which Paganini himself

declared he possessed, was never given to the world.

Many compositions have been ascribed to Paganini which are mere

imitations. The few genuine ones contain many grotesque turns

which make them all the more fascinating. Whatever may have been

the faults and weaknesses of the man, as a composer Paganini was a

star among his contemporaries. "As a composer Paganini stands very

high. His works are rich in invention, genial, and show a mastery

of the scientific part of the art."

VINCENT V. M. BEEDE.

Prizes for Short Stories.

HARPER'S ROUND TABLE offers five prizes for the best stories of

adventure written by a Knight or Lady of the Round Table. Stories must

contain at least five hundred and not over fifteen hundred words, actual

count. The incident must be a probable one, and the story well told,

both in sequence of events and language employed. As far as practicable,

type-write the story, but this is not made a condition. At the top of

the first page place your name, age, and address in full, the number of

words in your story, and say where you saw this offer. Do not roll your

manuscript. Use paper about 5 by 8 inches in size, fold it or send flat.

Prepay postage and enclose return postage. Address it not later than

December 25, 1895, to HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, New York, and put in the

left-hand corner of the envelope the words "Story Competition." No story

may be sent by you that is not wholly original with you, and none may be

submitted that has ever been submitted in any other contest. One person

may not submit more than one story. Criticism by grown persons is

permissible. The prizes are $25 each to the three best, provided there

are three good stories. If there are not three good stories, the prizes

will not be awarded. We shall not award a prize to and print a poor

story, even if it chance to be the best received by us in this

competition. One of the stories, either a prize one or otherwise, as we

may elect, is to be used in the Pen-drawing Contest, and printed, if

good, with its prize illustration.

Prizes for Nonsense Verses

Nonsense verses are ridiculous jingles--the more ridiculous the better.

They may be four, six, or eight lines. Five prizes are offered by

HARPER'S ROUND TABLE for the best--that is, for the most ridiculous.

Each prize is: Fifty engraved visiting-cards, in a neat box, with copper

plate for future use. Of course the cards bear the winner's name.

Competition open only to those who have not passed their eighteenth

birthday. Forward not later than December 1, 1895.

About the Patents.

The new Patents and also the Prospectuses to those who have asked for

them, in order that they may earn prizes for placing them in the hands

of families likely to be interested in them, will be mailed to all

applicants about October 1st. There has been a little delay in

publishing the ROUND TABLE Handy Book, but it will be ready October 1st

and forwarded to all who have applied for it. The Handy Book contains

thirty-six pages filled with much useful information. Those who want

Patents should ask for them, and in doing so send the names of friends

who may wish to belong to the Order. Ask for a Patron Patent for your

teacher. The Patents will be handsomely illuminated, four pages, and

bear on the last page full information about the Order.

Amateur Journalism.

The Easton, Pa., venture, which we spoke of as _Leisure Hour_, came out

at last as the _Scribbler_. The September issue is most creditable. It

is small, but hopes to grow. We hope it will. Address Norman Hart,

Robert E. James, Jun., or George F. Wilson, 203 Northampton Street. The

_Eclipse_, a bright little paper published by F. H. Lovejoy, Weldon,

Pa., is larger now than ever--and better. The following-named want to

receive copies of amateur papers. Harry H. Luther, Hotel Gordon, Jamaica

Plain, Boston, Mass.; Charles E. Abbey, Chester, N. J.; J. F. Barksdale,

Hardy, Miss.; and Harry R. Whitcomb, Umatilla, Fla.

Walter S. Beattie, 651 Madison Avenue, New York city, writes:

"We desire original contributions for our paper, _Sports and

Science_, and offer a handsome book, monthly, to the person

writing the best short story, poem, or sketch. All should join the

Sports and Science club, and receive this paper free. Send

two-cent stamp for postage to the editor for all particulars and

copy of paper."

W. S. BEATTIE.

A Visit to Robbers' Cave.

Several summers ago, when I was spending my vacation at Leon

Springs, we were sitting on the porch toward evening when some one

suggested a visit to Robbers' Cave for the next day. In a few

minutes all those idle loungers had dispersed, some to see about a

guide and horses, others to make arrangements for a lunch.

After an early breakfast we mounted our horses and rode off,

leaving the lunch to be brought in the surrey. When we reached the

mouth of the cave we were a rather jolted-up crowd, for riding

over hills in Texas is not like riding along a road in San

Antonio. But by the time the surrey, with the rope-ladder and

torches arrived, we were squabbling over who should go down first.

To settle that we drew straws, and it fell to my lot to go down

third. The entrance to the cave was not more than six feet round,

and the bottom was reached after a descent of twenty-five feet.

Just half-way down there was a landing that leads off to the upper

part of the cave.

We were first taken to the room that looks as if it were full of

statuary that had been slightly defaced. The most natural of these

is a bust of a veiled woman. Climbing over some rocks we came to

the spring, which is about five feet in circumference. In the

centre is a miniature castle, with its towers, turrets, and

chimneys. The light from our torches made it glisten like

diamonds. If you stand in the centre of the main cave and whisper,

you can be heard in all parts. We threw pebbles down in a shallow

pit where we could see frogs hopping about. May I write and tell

how the cave came to be called by this name?

P. V. R. LOCKWOOD.

SAN ANTONIO.

Yes.

Questions and Answers.

Jules L. Steele: One competitor in the poem contest may send only one

poem. The rule is so made because it is better for competitors to put

their efforts upon one production than to attempt to pen two or more.

Harry H. Luther thinks the Order should hold a reunion every year. Other

members say they think the same way.

A.F. McC.: You may send only one poem in the prize competition. It may

be the one mentioned as having been printed in a local paper. Send it in

manuscript, however.

[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.

Interest in the newly discovered varieties of the U. S. stamps

continues, and has led to the closer examination of all other U. S.

stamps, resulting in the discovery of still other varieties. The latest

is the 10c. green of 1861, a stamp catalogued at 5c. only, as it is to

be found in large quantities, and almost every collector has or has had

many duplicates.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

The first die was made with the five stars at the top of the stamp in

white on a background composed of fine perpendicular lines. It seems the

plate soon showed signs of wear at the top, and a new die was made in

which the perpendicular lines ran into a solid curved line, something

like this.

The stamps printed from the original plates are quite rare, one dealer

finding three only out of a lot of nearly five hundred. The new variety

is selling at various prices, from $5 upward. A curious result of the

new discovery has been the find of some copies with the 1868 grill. Of

course the grill is counterfeit.

New recruits are made daily to the ranks of those who are devoting

themselves to the collection of unused U. S. stamps in blocks showing

the imprint and plate numbers on the margin. Some of the scarcer 1890

and 1894 plate numbers are to be sold at auction in New York within a

few weeks. This branch of collecting offers special facilities to those

living in the smaller towns, as the post-offices in such towns

frequently have sheets of stamps issued many years ago, whereas in the

large cities the stamps on hand are usually of the very latest printing

only.

The Duke of York is reported to have sold his collection of

postage-stamps to Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild for $300,000.

F. L. POTTS.--Dealers offer 1857 half-dime at 10c.

E. V. G.--Oiled paper, or paraffine paper, will prevent stamps

from sticking to each other. But the ordinary "hinges" or

"stickers" will not adhere to such paper.

A. L. EVANS.--U.S. cents are quoted as follows: 1817, 10c.; the

variety with fifteen stars at 50c. The other cents mentioned from

5c. to 15c. each. Half-cent, 1851, 10c. Half-dollar, 1830, 75c.

W. F. T.--There are three varieties of the 1799 silver dollar,

worth $2, $3, $4 respectively.

RAM.--1842 dimes are quoted at 20c. The 1799 and 1858 cents at 5c.

each.

C. E. STEELE.--See answer to "Ram."

B. MAGELSEN.--Perforated stamps from the centre as margin of a

sheet, thus showing one side without perforations, are not so

desirable as stamps having all four sides perforated. As a rule

stamps should have all paper soaked off the back. The only

exception is in the case of valuable stamps, when the entire

envelope should be kept.

PHILATUS.

[Illustration]

Copyright, 1894, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.

Elisabeth Robinson Scovil, Associate Editor of The Ladies Home Journal,

and a Hospital Superintendent of experience, in her book, "The Care of

Children," recommends the use of Ivory Soap for bathing infants, and

says: "There is no particular virtue in Castile Soap which has long been

consecrated to this purpose."

[Illustration]

CARD PRINTER =FREE=

Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. YOU can make

money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink Type Holder,

Pads and Tweezers, Best Linen Marker, worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE

for 10c. stamps for postage and packing on outfit and large catalogue of

1000 Bargains in household articles and novelties.

COMICAL RUBBER STAMPS.

[Illustration]

More fun than a barrel of monkeys. A complete set of SIX grotesque

little people, Policemen, Dudes and Devils, with everlasting Ink pads.

With them a boy can make a circus in a minute. =Postpaid for 10 cents.=

Address =R. H. INGERSOLL & BRO.=

Dept. No. 27. 65 Cortlandt St., New York.

SPALDING'S

OFFICIAL FOOT-BALL GUIDE

[Illustration]

Edited by =Walter Camp=. Contains the =OFFICIAL RULES=, with the =Yale=

and =Princeton= and the =Harvard=, =Pennsylvania= and =Cornell=

amendments, under which they will play. Also pictures of all the leading

players and valuable information. 10 cents.

Handsome catalogue devoted to all out-door sports, and containing over

700 illustrations, sent free.

A. G. SPALDING & BROS.,

New York. Chicago. Philadelphia.

[Illustration]

THE

BALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS

has earned more money for boys than all other presses in the market.

Boys, don't idle away your time when you can buy a self-inking

printing-press, type, and complete outfit for $5.00. Write for

particulars, there is money in it for you.

THE J. F. W. DORMAN CO.,

Baltimore, Md., U.S.A.

=DEAFNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED= by my =INVISIBLE= Tubular Cushions. Have

helped more to good =HEAR=ing than all other devices combined. Whispers

=HEAR=d. Help ears as glasses do eyes. =F. Hiscox=, 853 B'dway. N.Y.

Book of proofs =FREE=

PLAYS

Dialogues, Speakers, for School, Club and Parlor. Catalogue free.

=T. S. Denison=, Publisher. Chicago Ill.

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER

=Little Knights and Ladies.= Verses for Young People.

Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

A volume of poems which are wholly suitable for children's reading, and

which will be quite as welcome to the children's mothers. There is a

womanly touch which will win for Mrs. Sangster hundreds of

admirers.--_N. Y. Times._

A volume of ballads and lyrical pieces for young people by an author who

never tires her readers.... All are of high quality.--_Philadelphia

Bulletin._

The verses in this collection are excellent; all of them are sweet and

rhythmical.... Poetry like this is delightful; it pleases and educates,

charms and inspires. "Little Knights and Ladies" will meet with a hearty

welcome.--_Brooklyn Standard-Union._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York

[Illustration: HOP LEE AND HIS FAITHFUL MULE--AN EXCITING SCENE AT THE

HOANG-HO FERRY.]

JOHNNY'S IDEA OF A JOKE.

"Pa," said Johnny, as he watched his father filling cartridges for his

shot-gun, "wouldn't it be a joke to load one of those cartridges with

quinine pills and shoot a bear with 'em."

AN ERROR SOMEWHERE.

My pa says if I don't keep still

Some time, I won't get strong;

But when I watch the moving sea,

And think how strong the waters be,

I sort of think he's wrong.

EXPLAINED.

"Why, Howard, child, how did you cut your lip that way?" cried Mrs. B.

"Playing," said Howard. "I was playing I was a goat, an' I tried to eat

a tomatter can."

BOBBIE'S COMPLIMENT.

My sister screws her face up

At all times when she cries;

But she can't make it ugly

However hard she tries.

BOBBY. "If you fell overboard while on an ocean steamer, what would you

do?"

JACK (_four years old_). "I'd go to sleep on one of the ocean's

pillows."

NOT A QUESTION OF POVERTY.

"Speaking about little folks," remarked the B shop, after the dry-goods

man had gotten through with his story of the bright thing which his

little four-year-old daughter had said at dinner that day--"speaking of

smart little folks, I had an experience with one quite a good many years

ago. It was when I was candidating for my first parish that I preached

at a little village down in Pennsylvania. I was entertained at the home

of one of the wardens. As I look back at that sermon now it must have

been pretty vealy, but I was well pleased with it then, and my host

praised it so enthusiastically on the way home that I felt tolerably

sure of an invitation to occupy the rectory.

"My host had a bright little five-year-old daughter, and she and I got

to be pretty good friends. While I was waiting for the depot wagon to

come and bear me away from the scene of my triumph, the next morning,

the little girl suddenly ran up to me with her little tin savings-bank.

The dear little thing wanted me to open the bank and take one-half of

the money for myself. I thanked her and declined.

"What makes you think I need the money, dear?" I asked.

"Why, nuffin much, only when papa came home from church yesterday I

heard him tell mamma that you was a _mighty poor preacher_."

TEACHER. "Astronomy is a wonderful science, Harry. Men have learned

through it not only how far off the stars are from the earth, but what

they are made of."

HARRY. "It seems to me a great deal more wonderful how they found out

their names."

PAPA. "Are you sorry you hit Wilbur?"

BOBBY. "Yes, papa, and he is sorry too."

A GENEROUS LAD.

"Tommy!"

No answer.

"Tom-mee!!"

"Well?"

"What are you doing to your brother Willie?"

"Nothin'."

"Yes, you are. You are making him cry."

"No, I ain't--I'm bein' generous. I'm givin' him half o' my

codliver-oil."

A VERY GOOD REASON.

"Wisht I was a codfish," said Jack.

"Why do you wish that?" asked his mother.

"They don't have to take codliver-oil. They're born with all they need

already inside of 'em," said Jack.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, October 1, 1895, by Various