CHAPTER XIX.

It was four years later, and it was again the day before Christmas.

Cynthia sat in her own room by the bed, which was covered with presents

in various stages of completion; some tied up and marked, ready to be

sent, others only half finished, and one or two but just begun. Bob, as

usual, lay at her feet.

"There!" cried she, as with a loud snap her needle broke for the third

time; "there it goes again. I believe I'll give up this wretched frame

and all the other things that are not finished, and go to Boston this

morning. I'll just buy everything I see, regardless of price."

"You would never get near the counters, the shops are so packed,"

observed Edith, who was hovering over a table full of lovely articles on

the other side of the large room. "Just send what you have, Cynthia, and

let the rest go. You can't possibly finish them in time. You give so

many Christmas presents."

"Oh, it's all very well for you, with all those wedding-presents and the

Christmas things you'll have besides, to think other people won't want

them! You don't take half as much interest in Christmas as usual this

year, Edith, just because you are going to be married so soon. Now I

should never change about Christmas if I were to be married forty

times--which I hope I sha'n't be. In fact, I've about made up my mind

never to marry at all."

"Nonsense! I think I used to say that myself when I was as young as you

are."

"And you're just two years older, so according to that you were saying

so this time two years ago, which was not by any means the case, for you

were already engaged to Dennis then! In fact, I don't believe you ever

said it. Oh, another needle! I'm too excited to work, anyhow. What with

weddings and Christmas and the boys coming home, I am utterly incapable

of further exertion."

She tossed the unfinished photograph-frame across the bed and leaned

back in her chair. Then she began to gather up her work materials.

Finally she moved restlessly to the window.

"It is beginning to snow. I hope the boys won't be blocked up on the

way. Wouldn't it be dreadful?"

"I suppose you mean Neal. Of course Jack can get out from Cambridge. Ah,

here comes Dennis!" and Edith hastily left the room.

"Dennis, Dennis--always Dennis!" said Cynthia to herself. "I wonder if I

could ever become so silly? Certainly I never could about Dennis Morgan,

though he is a dear old fellow, and I'm very glad I'm going to have him

for a brother-in-law."

Cynthia stood for some time at the window, looking out at the swiftly

falling flakes which were already whitening the ground. Bob stood beside

her, his fore-paws resting on the window-sill. He belonged to Cynthia

now; but she patted his head and whispered in his ear that his master

was coming, which made the black tail wag joyfully.

Four years had, of course, made considerable change in Cynthia; and yet

her face did not look very much older. Her fearless blue eyes were just

as merry or as thoughtful by turns as they had always been--at this

moment very thoughtful; and the pretty head, with the hair gathered in a

soft knot at the back, drooped somewhat as she looked out on the

fast-gathering snow.

She was wondering how Neal would be this time. During his last visit he

had seemed different. She wished that people would not change. Why was

one obliged to grow up? If they could only remain boys and girls

forever, what a lovely place the world would be! She had hated to have

Edith become engaged, and now in two days she was going to be married

and leave the old home forever. To be sure, she was to live in Brenton,

in a dear little house of her own, but it would not be the same thing at

all.

Of one thing Cynthia was sure. She would never marry and go away from

Oakleigh; she would stay with her father and mother forever. The next

wedding in the family would be either Jack's or Janet's. Jack had

overcome his shyness and become quite a "lady's man," and as for

Janet--but just then the young woman in question came into the room.

She was eleven years old now, tall for her age, and with her hair in a

"pig-tail," but the roguish look in her eyes showed that, like the Janet

of former times, she was ever ready for mischief.

She carried a pile of boxes in her arms, and was followed by Willy, who

staggered under a similar load, and by Mrs. Franklin, also with her arms

full.

"More wedding-presents," Janet announced. "Edith and Dennis have been

looking at them, and they sent them up for you to see and fix."

As she uttered the last words one of the boxes slipped, and away went a

quantity of articles over the floor--spoons, forks, gravy-ladles, and

salt-cellars--in wild confusion, cards scattered, and no means of

telling who sent what, nor in which box anything belonged.

"Janet," groaned Cynthia, "if that isn't just like you! You ought to be

called 'The Great American Dropper,' for everything goes from you."

"Never mind," returned Janet, cheerfully. "Willy, you pick them up while

I see who's coming. I hear wheels. It's a station carriage."

"Is it?" cried Cynthia. "Can it be already?"

"It's Aunt Betsey," was Janet's next piece of information.

"Oh!" came from Cynthia, in disappointed tones.

"Why, who did you think it was?" asked her young sister, turning and

surveying her calmly and critically. "Aren't you glad to see Aunt

Betsey? And why is your face so very red? Are you expecting any one

else?"

"No, only the boys," said Cynthia, busying herself with the scattered

silverware.

"The boys! I don't see why your face should look so queer for them."

Mrs. Franklin glanced at Cynthia quickly.

"Come," said she, much to her daughter's relief, "we must go and welcome

Aunt Betsey."

The little old lady was as agile as ever. She had come for Christmas and

for the wedding, which was to take place on the twenty-sixth.

"I am glad you didn't put it off," she said to Edith when she had kissed

her and kissed Dennis, and patted them both on the shoulder. "Never put

off till to-morrow what can be done to-day, as I learned to my cost late

in life--though not so very late, either. And now I want to see the

wedding-presents."

And she trotted upstairs in front of them just as nimbly as she did

years ago, when she went up to show her nieces her new false front.

Jack arrived in the afternoon. He was a Sophomore at Harvard now--very

elegant in appearance, very superior as to knowledge of the world, but

underneath the same old Jack, good-natured, plodding, persevering. He

still ran the poultry farm, though he paid a man to look after it while

he was away.

The day wore on, night came down upon them, and still Neal did not

appear. He was to have left Philadelphia that morning, where he had been

living during the past four years. He had grown more accustomed to the

confinement of business, he had made a number of friends outside of the

Quaker element, and he expected Philadelphia to be his permanent home.

His cousin was apparently satisfied with his success, for Neal had risen

steadily since the beginning, and would one day be a partner. He had

come home to Oakleigh every summer for two weeks' vacation, but he had

not spent the Christmas holidays there since the year that his sister

was married.

This Christmas eve, Cynthia, in her prettiest gown, donned for the

occasion, grew visibly more and more impatient, in which feeling her

step-mother shared. Mr. Franklin laughed at them as he sat by the lamp

reading the evening paper as usual.

"Watching won't bring him," he said when they opened the front door a

crack for the twentieth time and then shut it hastily because of the

snow that blew in; "and in the mean time you're freezing me!"

"Papa, how can you be so prosaic as to read a stupid old newspaper

Christmas eve?" cried Cynthia, as she caught the paper out of his hand,

tossed it aside, and seated herself on his knee.

"Seems to me my little daughter looks very nice to-night," he said,

looking at her affectionately. "She has on a very fine frock and some

very superior color in her cheeks."

"Well, it is Christmas eve, and the fire is hot," explained Cynthia.

"Ho!" laughed Janet, "that isn't it! You began to get blushy when you

thought the boys were coming this morning. You thought--"

"Janet," interposed Mrs. Franklin, "run up stairs quickly and get the

little white package on my dressing-table, dear. I forgot to put it in

the basket. You can slip it in."

For the old Oakleigh custom still obtained, and the presents were

deposited in the basket in the hall.

Janet, her explanations nipped in the bud, departed obediently, her love

of teasing overcome by her desire to see, feel, and even shake the

"little white package," which had an attractive sound.

And at last Neal arrived. The storm had begun at the south, and there

had been much detention; but he had finally reached his journey's end,

and here he was, cold and hungry, and very glad to reach the friendly

shelter of Oakleigh.

From the moment he came in Cynthia found a great deal to do in other

parts of the house--things which seemed to require her immediate and

closest attention. She left her mother and sister to attend to the wants

of the traveller, and beyond the first shy greeting she had very little

to say to him. When there was nothing left to be done she devoted

herself to Aunt Betsey. But as soon as Neal had appeased his appetite

the excitement of opening the presents began, and the assumption of

indifference to his coming was no longer necessary.

On Christmas afternoon Neal asked Cynthia to go out with him. The day

was clear, the sleighing fine, and he anticipated having an opportunity

for a long talk with her, uninterrupted by the claims of relatives. It

seemed to him that there were more people than ever who received a share

of Cynthia's attention. He would like to have her all to himself just

once.

Very much to his chagrin, however, Cynthia, who accepted his invitation

with apparent cordiality, insisted that they should go in the double

sleigh, and that Aunt Betsey and some one else should go too.

"It would be very selfish and quite unnecessary for us to go in the

cutter when Aunt Betsey is so fond of a sleigh-ride," she said,

severely.

Neal grumbled under his breath, but could say nothing aloud, as Miss

Trinkett was in the room. To be sure, when they drove off, Cynthia sat

in front with him, while his sister entertained her aunt on the back

seat; but it was not by any means the same thing as going with Cynthia

alone would have been.

That young woman, with apparent unconsciousness of his dissatisfaction,

chatted gayly about the wedding, the various bits of Brenton gossip, and

everything that she could think of to keep the ball of conversation

rolling. Somehow it had never before been so difficult to talk to Neal.

She wished that he would exert himself a little more.

"How do you like the idea of being usher," she asked--"you and Jack and

four others, you know? Tom Morgan is to be best man, Gertrude and Kitty

Morgan are to be bridesmaids, and I maid of honor. But, Neal, did you

hear the story about Tony Bronson?"

"No; what?"

"Oh, he did some terrible thing not very long ago. He forged his uncle's

name, I believe. It got into the papers at first, and then it was all

hushed up, and his father paid the money. But wasn't it dreadful?"

"I should say so! But it is just what one might have expected Bronson to

do, Cynth."

And then Neal relapsed into silence again, and Cynthia determined that

she would make no further effort at conversation. If Neal would not talk

he need not, but neither would she. And after this, with the exception

of Miss Betsey's voice from behind, nothing was heard but the jingle of

the sleigh-bells until the drive was over and they were at home again.

The wedding the next day passed off well. The bride looked lovely, as

all brides should, and Cynthia was as pretty as, if not more so than,

her sister. After the ceremony at the church there was a reception at

the house, which, notwithstanding the winter aspect without, looked warm

and gay in its dress of Christmas-greens and wedding-flowers.

Edith was upstairs in her old room, and her mother and Cynthia were

putting the last touches to her toilet when she had changed her dress to

go away.

"Mamma, I want to say something to you," she said, putting her arms

around Mrs. Franklin's neck. "You know how I love you now, and you know

only too well how hateful I was to you when you first came to us. I look

back on it now with horror, especially the day you heard me say it was

so dreadful to have the Gordons come. I want to tell you, mamma, that

next to Dennis the coming of the Gordons was the very best thing that

ever happened to me in my whole life!"

Mrs. Franklin could not speak; she could only kiss her and hold her

tenderly.

Cynthia said nothing aloud, but she thought that the coming of the

Gordons was the very best thing that had ever happened to her, without

any exception whatever. Dennis, in her eyes, was of minor importance.

The bride and groom went off amid a shower of old shoes, and then the

guests slowly betook themselves to their homes. It was the first wedding

at Oakleigh for many years, and it was celebrated in a manner befitting

such an important occasion. Some of the intimate friends staid during

the evening, and when they left, the family, tired and worn with

excitement, separated early.

The next day Neal went to see some of his former friends. He was absent

several days, for he had been granted extended leave, and was not due in

Philadelphia until the 2d of January.

It seemed very lonely and strange at Oakleigh after the wedding was

over. It was the first break in the family of that kind, and Cynthia

could not become accustomed to it. She thought that accounted for the

unusual fit of depression which seized her the morning Neal went away,

and which she could not shake off, try as she would.

Edith and Dennis were to return the last day of the year, and spend a

short time at the old homestead before going to their new house. Neal

also was to come back that day, and Cynthia found herself longing for

New-year's eve. She did want to see Edith so much, she said to herself a

dozen times a day.

And at last New-year's eve came, and with it the absent members of the

household. A merry party sat about the supper-table that night. Cynthia

was the gayest of the gay. Her contagious laugh rang out on all

occasions, but, indeed, everybody laughed at every one else's joke, and

particularly one's own joke, apparently without regard to the amount of

wit contained therein.

As the evening lengthened Cynthia grew more quiet. The last night of the

year always impressed her with its solemnity, young though she was. She

left the others where they were sitting about the fire waiting for the

clock to strike, and wandered off to the dining-room, to the library, up

stairs--anywhere. She could not sit still.

[Illustration: SHE WAS JUST COMING DOWN THE BROAD OLD STAIRCASE.]

She was just coming down the broad old staircase when Neal suddenly

appeared at the foot. He had been waiting for her. He was to go back

to-morrow, and he had determined to speak to her before he left.

She paused a moment in surprise, and the light from the Venetian lantern

which hung in the hall shone down on her soft curly hair and young face

as she stood with her hand resting on the bannister. Neal thought he had

never seen so lovely a picture.

"I want to speak to you, Cynth," he said, leaning against the carved

post at the foot of the stairs and effectually barring the way. There

was nothing for her to do but to listen. "I have tried for ages, ever

since I came, and you never will give me a chance."

"Nonsense! You have been away. How could you expect to talk to me if you

went away?"

"I know; but I had to go. Besides, you wouldn't have let me if I had

been here."

"Let us go back to the parlor. It is almost twelve."

"No, I want you here."

Cynthia was about to reply defiantly, but something in Neal's eyes made

her drop her own. She stood there in silence.

"Cynthia, do you remember that day on the river in the rain?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember what you called me then?" No reply.

"Tell me, Cynth; do you remember what you called me?"

"Yes," very low.

"You called me a coward. Do you think I am one now?"

"Oh no."

"But you also said you had faith in me, Cynthia; and in Philadelphia

that spring I told you I was going to prove to you that I was worthy of

your faith. Do you think I have, Cynthia?"

"Yes, Neal."

He said nothing for a minute. Then he glanced at the old clock in the

back part of the hall. It was five minutes of twelve.

"Come to the hall window, Cynthia," he said, taking her hand; and

Cynthia went with him. "That other New-year's eve we stood here and

looked out on the snow just as we're doing now. Do you remember?"

"And I made good resolutions which I never kept," said Cynthia, finding

her voice at last. "Oh, Neal, my bureau drawers are just as untidy and

my tongue is just as unruly as ever! I make the same good resolutions

every New-year's eve, but I always break them. You were wiser. You would

not promise that night when I wanted you to, but you have done a great

deal better than if you had."

"I would not promise when I should have done so. But won't you return

good for evil, Cynthia, and promise me something? Promise me that before

many more New-year's eves have come and gone you will be my wife! For I

love you--love you, Cynthia! I have loved you ever since that day on the

river--indeed, long before that! Hark! the clock is beginning to strike.

Promise before it stops."

And Cynthia promised.

And the old clock struck twelve, as it had done thousands of times

before, and the old year died, and for us the story is finished. But for

Neal and Cynthia a new year and a new life were dawning, and for them

the story had but just begun.

THE END.

RATHER ODD.

"Papa," said Jimmieboy, "you are the nicest man in the world."

"And you are the nicest boy in the world," said his father.

"Yes; I guess that's so," said Jimmieboy. "Isn't it queer how we both

managed to get into the same family."

THE BOMBARDMENT OF THE GOLDEN GATE.

BY YATES STIRLING, JUN.

"A strange fleet is in sight to the westward." This is the startling

report of the telephone from the Farallone Islands, situated

twenty-eight miles nearly due west of San Francisco. The General

receives the report without a sign of the anxiety he feels, and

continues his study of the huge maps before him. He is contemplating the

vast amount of work that has been accomplished in the last three months

since war had been declared. Then San Francisco had been a defenceless

city at the mercy of the most insignificant enemy; now it is as near

impregnable as human skill and ingenuity can make it.

The General takes a lingering look at the maps on his desk; running over

the different forts, he sees with pride that there is nothing left

undone.

[Illustration: Point Bonito. Point Diablo. Lime Point.

Point Lobos. Sutro Heights. Mortar Battery. Mining Station. Fort Point.

BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE GOLDEN GATE.]

On Point Lobos, the southern cape of the outer harbor, on high bluffs,

are three 16-inch rifles mounted on disappearing carriages, the guns, in

the loading position, being behind breastworks of earth and concrete. In

this position the guns are sighted, then going up to the firing position

above the earthwork for only a few seconds on firing, and then recoiling

to their position of safety. On the high land between Point Lobos and

Fort Point are two 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles in Grueson turrets,

the armor consisting of eighteen inches of Harveyized nickel steel. The

turrets are segments of a sphere, and are manipulated similarly to those

on a battle-ship. A little higher up is one of the two formidable

pneumatic guns, the explosion of whose shell within twenty yards of a

ship would send her to the bottom. At Fort Point, the southern cape of

the Golden Gate, in earthworks of old design patched up and

strengthened, are four 10-inch rifles with disappearing carriages. On

the northern cape of the Gate, Point Bonito, are three 16-inch rifles

mounted in a similar way. The second pneumatic terror is also at this

point, commanding the entrance to the Gate. Point Diablo is fortified

with three 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles on disappearing carriages, and

Lime Point will defend the harbor with four 10-inch rifles mounted in

the same way. The outer harbor seaward of Fort Point and Point Diablo

has been well mined, making it impossible for a vessel to enter in

safety even though she had escaped the tons of steel hurled at her. The

cables from the mines are led to a central station on the bluffs back of

Fort Point. If by chance the enemy's ships should ride over this hidden

explosive, the simple pressure of a key in this station would send them

all to destruction. At the mine station are two observers, who, by an

instrument similar to a range finder, discover from time to time the

position of the enemy on their chart. When the unlucky vessel is over a

mine the key is pressed.

On Sutro Heights is a heavily armored tower, the inside of which to an

inexperienced eye would appear like a central telephone station. It is

the General's headquarters in action. From here he and his staff will

direct and control the battle. This is the brain of the intricate

fortifications. The nerves run to every battery and central station,

making it but the work of a minute to transmit orders to any point.

Before another half-hour has slipped away everything is activity within

the forts. The wires from the General's tower are busy with the many

orders transmitted.

Actual hostilities began months ago in the East, but as yet have not

laid their cruel hand on the Pacific slope. New York has been the scene

of most of the strife.

While the army has been making the Golden Gate a fortress, the navy has

not been idle. All the fighting ships on the coast have been collected,

and the work on the new ones so expedited that a formidable fleet has

been massed in the harbor. The _Oregon_, the only first-class

battle-ship of the West, cleared for action, the Admiral's blue flag

flying at her truck, is lying behind Alcatraz Island; made fast to the

different mooring-buoys by slip-ropes is the rest of the Pacific fleet.

The _Monterey_, low and formidable, is nearest the island, barely

distinguishable against the dark land; her heavily armored turrets,

bristling each with two great 12-inch rifles, are a menace to any

battle-ship. The _Monadnock_, a double-turreted vessel, is close to the

_Oregon_; in her turrets she carries two 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles,

and inside of her dark hull are brave men who will show the enemy that

the American monitor is as deadly a foe as of old. The _Olympia_,

_Philadelphia_, _Baltimore_, _Charleston_, _Bennington_, and _Yorktown_,

all protected cruisers, are equally ready to do battle with any of the

enemy that it is their duty to encounter.

The foreign fleet is now in sight from Sutro Heights. A glance through

the powerful telescope tells the General it is the enemy--six

first-class battle-ships and eight cruisers, for the belligerent country

depends upon the capture of this rich city to defray the heavy expense

of the war.

They are approaching in double column, the battle-ships leading. Nearer

and nearer they come. The range-finders at the different batteries show

the range is rapidly diminishing. News has reached San Francisco, and

the high bluffs about the city are thronged with an excited crowd. The

blue-coated regulars have dispersed from the little knots about the

guns, and have gone to their stations, and stand ready at the command to

open the greatest battle the West has ever seen. On the ships of the

enemy come, majestically cutting the smooth sea, throwing the silvery

spray upon their bare forecastles, over which their heavy turret guns

are to soon speak.

"Four miles, sir!" reports one of the General's aides. The batteries at

Lobos and Bonito are ordered to open fire. The six big 16-inch rifles

thunder forth their challenge almost simultaneously, and nearly three

and a half tons of steel go speeding toward the approaching enemy. All

eyes are turned seaward, and are just in time to see columns of water

thrown up close aboard the on-coming ships. Again and again the heavy

batteries speak; shot after shot goes on its deadly flight, making havoc

on board the silent vessels. The fleet is approaching at nearly

fifteen-knot speed; it will take them but eight minutes to reach the

range, when tons of gun-cotton will be sent out to meet them both above

and below the peaceful sea. They are heading directly for the entrance.

What can be their intention? Will they dare attempt to run the forts? Do

they suppose the harbor is clear of mines and they have naught to fear

save the guns? The range-finder dials point to 4000 yards from the Gate.

All the guns on the forts are blazing forth fire, but the gunners' aims

are poor, and the better part of the shots are fruitlessly ploughing up

the sea in the vicinity of the enemy. One well-aimed 16-inch shell

strikes home on the nearest ship; her armor is pierced, and she has

become unmanageable and drops out of the advancing columns. Nearer and

nearer comes the fighting. At last the dreaded puffs of smoke dart from

the battle-ships' turrets, and the shells are coming screeching ashore,

tearing up the earth in the fortifications. With a glass one of the

aides is scanning the sea at the entrance to the harbor. An exclamation

escapes him as his glass focuses on some object of interest; with a

flinger trembling with emotion he points out to the General two small

red flags, barely distinguishable on the water's surface, midway between

Point Lobos and the nearest ship. A glance shows it to be the flags on

the Sims-Edison controllable torpedo. Out it goes at a terrific speed;

nearer and nearer it approaches its intended victim. Harmless enough

look these small pieces of bunting, but underneath the water not many

feet lurk nearly five hundred pounds of deadly gun-cotton. It has passed

astern of the leading ship. Will it run out its scope and fail? A small

column of water is seen to ascend from the flags, and the next moment

the second battle-ship is nearly engulfed in a mighty explosion. The

first charge tears the torpedo net; the second makes one less ship to

attack the batteries, for she is fast sinking. The gun-cotton has

exploded against her steel hull. A cruiser drops out to render

assistance.

An explosion that seems like an earthquake to those in the

fortifications tells that the first gun-cotton shell has exploded near

the enemy. One of the leading battle-ships heels over and slowly sinks

beneath the waves; her seams have been opened by the force of the

explosion. The enemy now is in irregular formation, more nearly like

double echelon; they are pouring in a scathing fire on all the

batteries. As they approach the torpedo range they starboard and stand

out to sea, bringing to bear their after turrets. Some of their shots

have committed awful havoc ashore; gun after gun has been dismounted,

one of the pneumatic guns has been struck by a shell and is a total

wreck. The remaining controllable torpedoes have failed.

The pneumatic gun on Point Bonito is aimed at the nearest ship, but a

mile and a half away; the gauge on the accumulator shows the air

pressure is sufficient. The lever is tripped, and the quarter-ton of

gun-cotton, with a whir, is hurled on its errand of destruction. The eye

can distinguish the aerial torpedo as it soars to the height of its

trajectory, and then majestically and swiftly steals down toward its

helpless prey. Will it explode? It strikes the water a few yards from

the target, but the looked-for explosion does not follow; the fuse has

failed. The next minute every gun of the enemy is trained upon this

terrible weapon, knowing that if the shell is again let loose their

ships will be like chaff before this tremendous power. The enemy is now

confident of victory. Signals go up on the flag-ship, and in a very few

minutes the old formation is resumed, and once again they head for the

harbor.

The firing becomes hot and furious; broadside after broadside belches

forth from the enemy's steel sides; a few shells go wide into the city,

and dense columns of black smoke from the buildings set on fire lend a

more awesome aspect to the picture depicted.

The observers at the mining-station are nervous with the suppressed

excitement within them. The ships of the enemy plot on their chart only

eight hundred yards away from their mines. Will it be their fortune to

decide the fate of the Golden City? The ships still advance. Soon they

will be over the mines. A pressure of the key under the hand will

discharge tons of the hidden explosive.

But the enemy has stopped. What does this foretell? Five hundred yards

from the mines the ships are nearly motionless in the troubled sea

lashed to foam by the ploughing of so much steel.

All the batteries are now doing splendid work. Explosion follows

explosion on board the intruding ships. Two cruisers are unmanageable

and on fire; they drift onto the rocks almost within a stone's throw of

one of the batteries. Suddenly torpedoes shoot from the bow tubes of the

leading ships, and a few moments afterward tremendous columns of water

are seen to rise from the bay, and the next second the sound of a mighty

discharge reaches the expectant ears of the defenders of the Gate. The

officer at the mining-key knows from the spark that jumps across under

his hand that the enemy has countermined and the harbor is clear. The

struggle has come to such close quarters that the rapid-fire and machine

gun fire lends its sharp cracking report to the dull roar of the heavy

guns.

But the foe has stopped too long! The mortar battery on Lobos has gotten

his range. Suddenly with a whir a column of smoke rises in the air just

over the bay, and a bunch of 16-inch mortar shells falls upon the

battle-ships' unprotected decks. One shell strikes over the boilers of

one of the ships, penetrating them a second later, the explosion of

which rends her asunder; and where this powerful steel-clad had been but

a moment before is but the hissing foam of troubled waters.

The General sees the fight has now reached the critical point; the

cruisers have dashed ahead and will soon be within the harbor. Many of

the batteries have been put out of action by the well-aimed shots of the

enemy. The navy is needed, but the telephone connection with the station

has been severed; the signal has not been made. Time is precious. A few

minutes more, and the whole fleet will be within the bay of San

Francisco, and, without the batteries, will be more than a match for the

few United States ships.

[Illustration: HE SEES THE FAMOUS "OREGON" COME RUSHING DOWN TO THE

FIGHT.]

An exclamation involuntarily escapes from the General's lips as he sees

the famous _Oregon_ emerge from behind Alcatraz Island, and come rushing

down to the fight.

The small fleet was thought too valuable to hazard against such as the

enemy brought. The plan was not to expose it till the signal was made.

But the Admiral, behind Alcatraz Island, has been pacing up and down the

deck of his battle-ship, tugging at the restraining bonds, growing more

and more impatient as the cannonading has become more furious. The crews

of the ships feel the inactivity keenly; anything is better than this

suspense. Why does not the signal come? The Admiral will wait no longer,

but slips his moorings, regardless of consequences, and appears in the

nick of time with his fleet to bar the entrance to the bay.

[Illustration: "PREPARE TO RAM."]

The _Oregon_, _Monterey_, and _Monadnock_ engage the two remaining

battle-ships. There is no sea-room for manoeuvring, and the rapid way

in which the Yankee guns are served shows that they are more than a

match for their huge enemies. The cruisers have closed in for the

death-struggle; every weapon of modern warfare is being employed; two

ships of the foe and one of his opponent's have been torpedoed, and in

another moment one of ours rams their biggest battle-ship. The General

on shore can almost hear the command, "Prepare to ram." It is so quickly

and skilfully executed. The forts have now become inactive, fearing to

fire lest by chance one of their own ships might be struck.

[Illustration: ANOTHER IS FORCED TO STRIKE THE WHITE FLAG.]

The enemy suddenly begins to retreat, leaving two of his ships on the

rocks, while another is forced to strike the white flag.

Night has come on. The sun has an hour ago gone below the western

horizon. The evening fog-bank comes in and mingles with the battle smoke

about the silent batteries, which only a short time before were the

scene of bloodshed and war. The brave defenders may sleep in peace in

their blankets and hammocks. The pride of the enemy has been humbled,

and the beautiful city of San Francisco is safe from torch and shell.

SHARK-CATCHING IN MID-OCEAN.

BY A. J. KENEALY.

The _Rajah_ made good progress south, the northeast trades blowing her

thither swiftly. We were fast approaching the belt of calms, squalls,

rain, and variable winds known to sailors as the "doldrums."

The skipper had four coops of fat ducks which he tended with loving

care. He just doted on them stuffed with sage and onions, and while they

were being roasted he used to hang about the galley enjoying the savory

odors that escaped from the oven. One morning while it was raining as

though the gates of heaven had been opened wide the Captain thought he

would give his pets a treat. The ship was heeling over considerably,

being close-hauled on the starboard tack, with all her flying kites

dowsed to the puffy breeze. He ordered the lee scuppers to be plugged

up, and as soon as a sufficiently large pool had collected on deck, he

liberated the ducks so that they might enjoy the luxury of a fresh-water

bath. The ducks were delighted, and demonstrated their joy by noisy

quacks. The pigs in the pens forward responded with joyous squeaks. The

cocks and hens in the long-boat joined in with a merry chorus of crows

and cackles. The combined music was that of a barn-yard.

[Illustration: AWAY WENT A DOZEN OF THE DUCKS INTO THE SEA.]

The ship heeled over until the scuppers were awash. The weight of all

the fresh water on deck as the ship inclined to the squall and rose on

the next wave was thrown against a lee port aft near which the ducks

were disporting themselves. Now it happened that the lashing of this

port was only of spun-yarn, rotten at that. The wash of the water

against the port parted the lashing, swung the port wide open, and away

went a dozen of the ducks into the sea with a great whir of wings and

clamorous cackling.

One of the sailors closed and secured the port before any more of the

birds escaped. Then the rest of the watch came aft, running

helter-skelter at the hurried hail of the mate, and drove the rest of

the flock into their pen. Had there been the slightest chance of

capturing the runaways the Captain would have backed the main-topsail,

hove the ship to, and lowered the quarter-boat.

Meanwhile the wind had died out. The sails flapped lazily against the

mast, and the ship rolled sluggishly on the heaving bosom of old ocean.

The clouds rolled away, and the pitiless burning sun shone down on the

deck and dried up all the moisture on wood and rope in a few minutes. It

was one of those sudden meteorological changes so common in equatorial

latitudes. An awning was rigged up over the man at the wheel. The

skipper put on a huge _topee_, or Indian pith helmet, to shelter his

head from the sweltering rays which made the pitch boil and bubble up in

the seams of the main-deck, and promised plenty of work for the

carpenter's calking-irons.

The ducks, obeying a sort of homing instinct, I suppose, swam up to the

now almost motionless ship, and continued their sport nearly within a

stone's throw. Suddenly a bright idea struck the skipper.

"See the lee quarter-boat clear for lowering!" he shouted to the second

mate. Then he put his head down the cabin skylight and ordered the

steward to bring up his breech-loader and a lot of cartridges. The boat

was lowered and manned. A side ladder was rigged; the Captain with his

gun descended and took up a position in the bow, from which he directed

operations. The cockswain seized the tiller-ropes. "Shove off let fall

give way!" he cried, all in one breath, without any regard to

punctuation, so excited was he, and in such a hurry to get within

gunshot of the ducks. If he could not catch them alive, he meant to have

them dead.

The boat was headed for the flock. When within easy range the skipper

let them have it right and left. His aim was so good that he brought

down three. It took some time to pick them up, which gave the scared

flock an opportunity to get out of gunshot. None others, as it happened,

were fated to fall victims to the deadly breech-loader of our

sportsman-skipper. The dorsal fins of six sharks were observed sticking

up above the surface of the water, and converging from different

directions on the doomed ducks. Sharks are abundant in equatorial

waters, and they follow ships for miles. Some of them are very large.

All are voracious and ugly customers to tackle.

The way those sharks gobbled up those ducks was a sight to behold. They

were disposed of in three minutes. The Captain was terribly angry. He

tried to revenge himself by peppering the sharks with shot, but it is

doubtful if the leaden pellets made the slightest impression on their

tough hides, even if he succeeded in hitting them.

The boat pulled back to the ship, and was hoisted to the davits. The

calm continued. Four of the sharks came up alongside, eager for more

ducks. Such appetizing fare was seldom theirs. Stray garbage from

passing ships, flotsam from the forecastle, composed the diet upon which

they usually depended in addition to their steady prey of fish. The

Captain brooded over the loss of his ducks for some time. Then he made

up his mind to have a little shark-fishing, and thus combine revenge and

recreation.

He sent below for a brand-new shark-hook with a sharp and cruel barb. To

the ring of the hook was attached a stout chain a fathom long. A shark's

teeth are so sharp and strong that they can bite through the stoutest

rope with singular ease. To the end of the chain the skipper bent on a

two-and-a-half-inch manilla line, and having impaled a four-pound piece

of pork on the hook, hove it overboard, with the remark that he intended

to have a slice of fresh shark for supper.

The sharks were playing about the rudder on the lookout for any stray

trifles that might come along their way from a sailor down to a beef

bone. They are not at all fastidious or dainty. It was my first

experience of shark-fishing, and I was a keen and interested observer.

The water was so clear that I could watch every motion of the four

monsters as they swam slowly about, each one attended by his own

particular body-guard of pilot-fish--pretty little creatures shaped

something like perch, with blue vertical stripes. Ichthyologists declare

that these fish attend the shark for the purpose of preying upon the

parasites that infest him. This may be a true explanation, but I cannot

understand how it is that a hungry deep-sea shark, that will snap up

anything living or dead, permits these plump little fish to play

unscathed about his enormous jaws. There are other curious things about

these pilot-fish that naturalists cannot explain. They only attach

themselves to the pelagic species found in deep water; there are always

five or seven of them to each shark, never an even number; they stick to

the shark while he is floundering about in the water with a hook through

his jaws, but as soon as he is hoisted above the surface of the sea they

immediately disappear. Nobody knows what becomes of them.

I have had several good opportunities of studying the habits of sharks,

and have always been curious about them. As a matter of fact, very

little is known concerning the ocean variety, which is quite distinct

from that of the shore.

No sooner had the pork plashed into the sea than one of the rapacious

monsters made a rush for it. The remarkable velocity of this fish was

surprising to me, who had never before seen a deep-sea shark in his

native element. The water was so beautifully limpid that his every

action could be accurately observed. I thought he would gorge the bait

immediately, but he did not. When he came up with it, he made a sudden

stop. Then he sniffed at it with an air of expectant and suspicious

curiosity. The next thing he did was to turn his tail to it

contemptuously, and swim away a considerable distance.

[Illustration: "WATCH HIM MAKE A DART FOR IT NOW," SAID THE SKIPPER.]

"Watch him make a dart for it now," said the skipper, who was an old

hand at shark-catching.

Like a flash the hungry fish went for the tempting bait, turning over so

that he might grasp it more conveniently with his wide and cruel jaws.

In an instant it was engulfed in his maw. And then there was such a

floundering and threshing in the water as I had never before seen. The

fierce shark, maddened with the pain of the sharp hook, made frantic but

fruitless efforts to escape. He snapped savagely at the strong chain

attached to the hook, with the sole result of damaging his own

cruel-looking teeth. Meanwhile the fish had been dragged forward to the

starboard gangway in spite of his wild struggles. A running bowline was

sent down the line that held him, and as the shark was hoisted over the

side it was passed over his body and hauled taut round his tail, in

order to control the movements of this his most formidable weapon.

Instances have been known of a blow from a shark's tail breaking a man's

leg on the deck of a vessel immediately after being hauled in over the

side.

This fish in question was gigantic. It took eight men to hoist him

in-board. "Chips," the carpenter, stood by with a keen axe, and as soon

as Mr. Shark's struggling carcass was landed on the deck, with one

powerful blow he severed his tail from his body, and thus incapacitated

him from mischief. From time immemorial it has been the ship carpenter's

privilege and duty to out off the tails of all sharks captured during a

deep-sea voyage, and the cook generally despatches him much after the

fashion of a Japanese when he performs on himself the queer right of

hari-kari.

"Chips," said the skipper, addressing the carpenter, "before you cut

that shark up, just pull that rule out of your pocket and measure him.

He seems quite a big fellow."

And a big fellow he proved to be, measuring 30 feet 8-1/2 inches long.

The Captain said he was the largest one he had ever seen, but the chief

mate declared he had once captured one that measured 38 feet, and he had

sailed with a skipper who had hauled one in-board that was fully 40 feet

in length. As a matter of fact, specimens of pelagic sharks are

displayed in museums that exceed 40 feet, but they are very rare. In

Florida varieties of fossil sharks have been dug up whose length "over

all" averages more than 50 feet, but these are now happily extinct.

Seafaring men are not as a rule a bloodthirsty race, but they look upon

sharks as their natural enemies, and against them they wage relentless

warfare; and whenever one is hooked they rejoice with an exuberant

pleasure, and will sacrifice their watch below in order to see him cut

and carved. There is also much curiosity with regard to the contents of

his interior. I once had for a shipmate a man who swore hard and fast

that he once found in a shark a ship's chronometer that was still

ticking. He was quite a truthful man too, but somehow I never believed

that yarn. Of course a shark is one of the most ravenous and rapacious

of fishes, and queer articles have undoubtedly been discovered in their

stomachs.

Inside the one just caught there were two of the Captain's ducks, and

not a morsel of anything else, which probably accounted for the greed

with which he swallowed the four-pound chunk of briny pork. It is a

tradition among sailors that sharks will not bite at a piece of beef,

and I never heard of one being hooked with any bovine bait. In this the

shark shows excellent taste and judgment, for the "salt junk" served out

to seafarers is by no means a succulent or dainty dish. As a matter of

fact, I have known a sailor to whittle out of it a fair model of the

hull of a ship, and to dry it in the sun for two or three weeks, when it

would come out for all the world as hard as a block of mahogany, which

it resembled--and this too after the beef had been boiled for hours in

the cook's coppers!

The Captain ordered the cook to cut off the fins and prepare them for

his own particular use after the Chinese fashion, the almond-eyed

Celestials esteeming them as an especial dainty. Then he carved two long

cutlets from the back, which he also ordered to be cooked for his

supper. The rest of the huge carcass he surrendered to the crew. The

boatswain cut out the heart of the shark, which was still palpitating,

and placed it in a tin dish. He told me it would continue to beat till

sundown, when it would suddenly become motionless. I did not believe

him, and told him so, but he prophesied truly. I watched that throbbing

heart pretty closely for several hours. It beat firmly and regularly

until the upper rim of the sun disappeared beneath the western horizon.

Then it made a sudden stop, and became limp and pulseless. This may seem

a yarn fit only to tell to the marines, but it is gospel truth on the

word of a sailor. I have told the story to scientific men, but they have

pooh-poohed at it, and declared it to have been impossible. But then it

was not to be supposed that they would know anything about sharks,

having got all their knowledge from musty books instead of from the sea

itself. Old sailors who have crossed the line will, however, corroborate

me as to this phenomenon.

The carpenter claimed the backbone, which he fashioned into a quite

handsome walking-stick by impaling the finest sections of the spine on a

slender bar of steel. And I may as well tell you that the "shark

walking-canes" so frequently offered in South Street by impostors

disguised as hardy mariners are as a rule made of sections of ox tails,

prepared in a very cunning manner, and well calculated to deceive the

inexperienced.

The Captain gave me the jaws, which were immense. I boiled them all

night in a big kettle until all the flesh fell off them and they shone

like ivory. I preserved them for many years as a souvenir of my first

deep-sea voyage and of the first shark I had seen hooked.

The tail was nailed in triumph to the end of the flying jib-boom,

replacing one of much smaller dimensions that had long braved both wind

and weather. Sailors think that a shark's tail at the extreme end of a

ship's "nose-pole" is the harbinger of good luck. While these things

were being done the rest of the shark's carcass was thrown overboard for

his mates to gorge upon. The only people aboard the _Rajah_ that ate

shark for supper that night were the Captain and the spinner of this

yarn. The skipper feasted on the fins, followed by a big dish of

cutlets. Of the last named delicacy I partook very sparingly, I warrant

you, being actuated less by appetite than by curiosity. Not being an

accomplished ichthyophagist like my Captain, I am forced to confess that

I found his flesh to be not only flavorless but coarse.

[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]

It is an excellent thing for young men to be eager and enthusiastic in

their pursuit of sport, but they should never allow their eagerness and

enthusiasm to get the better of them. In a hotly contested game it is

sometimes impossible for spectators to retain that composure which lends

dignity to the Supreme Court, but, on the other hand, we should never

allow our partisanship to carry us beyond the bounds of good behavior. I

don't want to preach a sermon here on the etiquette of sport, because I

am fully aware that my readers know just as much about the subject as I

do; I merely want to urge them now to act on the grand stand, or along

the ropes, or in the field itself just as in calmer moments they know

they ought to act, and feel confident that they will.

In looking over a bundle of school papers the other day, I came across

an editorial which started me to thinking about the behavior of

spectators and players at school games, and I want to quote a portion of

it. It does not matter what particular schools are under discussion, and

so I have eliminated their names from the paragraph, substituting A and

B, but otherwise the quotation is taken word for word. I did not write

it myself.

There is one thing that we must condemn, and condemn very

strongly, too, and that is the ungentlemanly conduct on the part

of our boys, in jeering their opponents and trying to rattle their

contestants. It is true that the "A" School started this, but this

is no excuse for the boys to so far forget themselves and their

school, and act like anything but gentlemen. The boys feel

somewhat justified in the act, in that they did not begin jeering

for quite a while after the "A" School had started, but at no time

and for no cause are they excusable for forgetting that they are

gentlemen. But to cap all this, a free fight was engaged in after

the field day on some trivial cause. The less said about this the

better, but we very strongly condemn the conduct of both the "B"

and "A" schools in the field day on Saturday.

The occurrences referred to above took place at a track-athletic

meeting, but they might just as well have happened at a football or a

baseball game. The two schools are rivals in sport, and the single aim

of each is to defeat the other. This spirit is commendable and should be

encouraged, and I know of no one who will yell louder and longer for his

own side than I will. But when it comes to jeering, we must draw the

line. It is unsportsmanlike, and that means that it is ungentlemanly,

cowardly, and indecent. We go into sport in order that the best man may

win, and if the best man is on the other side, this may be a

disappointment, but it is never a disgrace. If we start in to jeer at

the best man's efforts we are openly trying to prevent him from winning,

which is conduct directly opposite to the motives that led us to

encourage the competition. It is as cowardly to jeer at an opponent as

it is to adopt unfair means to defeat him: and any act calculated and

intended to injure the chances of an antagonist is unsportsmanlike.

As to the particular case mentioned in the editorial, I can make no

comment beyond what has already been said, except that fighting after a

friendly contest is wholly irreconcilable to sport. I don't know, of

course, whether there was an actual fight or not. The editor may have

exaggerated; let us hope that he did. But to allow one's feelings to get

the upper hand in sport is always a sign of weakness, and persons of

such weak character as not to be able to restrain their passions should

not indulge in sport. They do not belong among sportsmen.

There is nothing better than athletic contests to develop character and

to teach a man to restrain himself. Aside from all ethics in the matter,

and looking at the case purely from the point of view of securing

advantage, it is better to be able to master one's passions and

feelings. The man who loses his temper on the football field, and begins

to "slug" his opponent, or to adopt mean methods of play, invariably

weakens his own efforts, because he is giving more thought to his spite

than he is to his game. Of two teams absolutely evenly matched in every

physical respect, the team whose members keep cool and collected, and do

not lose their tempers, is bound to win every time. It is so in

everything; in business the same as in sport. Therefore, let me repeat

that whereas enthusiasm and eagerness cannot be too highly commended,

any display of ill-feeling or displeasure in sport cannot be too

severely condemned.

At a number of schools it is the custom to allow instructors to play on

the football and baseball teams, and these instructors frequently go

into match games against other school teams. Such a system, of course,

is bad; but it is fortunate that it is not countenanced at those

institutions which hold a prominent place in the interscholastic world.

It is mostly at small private schools that the teachers play, but the

principle is the same. In the first place, a man who is old enough to be

a professor is too old to play against boys. He outclasses them in

experience and in strength, and it is unfair to pit such a player

against a young athlete who has gone into sport for the sake of trying

his skill against his equals. It is also discouraging to any team of

young men to have to face opponents among whom there may be one or more

college graduates. The mere presence of an older man on a boys' team

serves to overawe the other side.

A Captain is perfectly justified in refusing to play against any school

team that puts an instructor or professional trainer into the field with

the school players. In fact, I should strongly urge every Captain of a

school team to refuse to arrange games with any institution where the

professor habit prevails, and to retire from any contest in which the

opponents propose to play an older man. A few years ago there was a

school team in Pennsylvania that won most of its baseball games simply

because the pitcher was so much superior to any school pitcher the team

ever met, and so much better an all-round player than any school-boy

could be, that their opponents had no chance. That was not sport. There

was no glory in those victories. The school team did not win. It was the

professor against the field. He was a graduate of Williams College, I

think, and had been the crack pitcher of his year among college baseball

teams. But I think that he no longer performs for that school, and I

believe that the boys there have a truer appreciation of the ethics of

sport now, and fight their own battles on the diamond and on the

gridiron.

It is all very proper for instructors who were athletes in college to

give the scholars at the school they teach in the benefit of their

experience by coaching the players, and even by going out on the field

and playing against the first school team. But they should always play

against the team, not with it, except for the purpose of demonstrating a

play. By coaching the school players they are doing much good for the

school team and for sport. But by joining the school players in games

against other schools they do injury both to the players and to the

cause of sport.

The absurd reports which appeared in some of the New York daily papers

concerning the injury received by Captain Mynderse, of the Betts Academy

team, in the recent game against the Berkeley School eleven, only serve

to corroborate the statements made by this Department two weeks ago.

Fortunately Mr. Ely, the coach of the Berkeley team, came out promptly

with a statement to the effect that the boy was not at all seriously

injured, and that he returned to his school the next day with his

companion players, and was not, as reported, laid up in the hospital in

a critical condition. In closing, Mr. Ely remarks: "Any team of

school-boys who are properly looked after and cared for while playing

the game, and who are physically fit to play it, need have no fear of

doing so, nor need their parents have any fear that their sons will be

permanently injured or incapacitated from pursuing a collegiate or

business career from injurious effects sustained upon the football

field." Mr. Ely is perfectly right; and let me add that boys who are not

properly looked after while playing the game, or who are not physically

fit to play it, should not be allowed on the field.

The most promising eleven in the New York League, up to date, is the

Berkeley School team. Bayne has been made Captain instead of

Irwin-Martin, and he will, no doubt, put more life and snap into his

men. The change is a good one, for Martin is a good deal of a back

number in scholastic athletics, and has thoroughly outgrown the class of

players who properly belong on school teams. The protests against him on

the score of age will probably again this year pop up with persistent

regularity in the meetings of the I.S.A.A. Martin ought to get a

certified copy of his birth certificate from the Bureau of Vital

Statistics, and settle this disputed question once for all.

The league games began last week, and the schedule is divided into two

sections, as the baseball schedule was:

FIRST SECTION.

Oct. 22.--Cutler School vs. Hamilton Institute.

Oct. 29.--Trinity School vs. Columbia Grammar School.

Nov. 5.--Hamilton Institute vs. Trinity School.

Nov. 12.--Cutler School vs. Columbia Grammar School.

Nov. 19.--Cutler School vs. Trinity School.

Nov. 22.--Hamilton Institute vs. Columbia Grammar School.

SECOND SECTION.

Oct. 25.--Barnard School vs. De La Salle Institute.

Nov. 1.--Barnard School vs. Berkeley School.

Nov. 8.--Berkeley School vs. De La Salle Institute.

Nov. 29.--Championship game, winner first section vs. winner

second section.

Should there be a tie, the deciding game will be played on November 26th

at the Berkeley Oval, where all the championship matches are to be held.

The Brooklyn series began almost a week earlier than the New York games,

and will be continued in this order:

Oct. 16.--Adelphi Academy vs. Bryant & Stratton.

Oct. 19.--Adelphi Academy vs. Pratt Institute; St. Paul's School

vs. Bryant & Stratton.

Oct. 22.--"Poly Prep." vs. Bryant & Stratton; Boys' High-School

vs. Bryant & Stratton.

Oct. 26.--Brooklyn Latin School vs. Bryant & Stratton; "Poly

Prep." vs. Pratt Institute.

Nov. 2.--Pratt Institute vs. Boys' High-School; St. Paul's School

vs. Adelphi Academy.

Nov. 5.--Brooklyn Latin School vs. Boys' High-School; St. Paul's

School vs. "Poly Prep."

Nov. 9.--St. Paul's School vs. Pratt Institute.

Nov. 13.--"Poly Prep." vs. Boys' High-School.

Nov. 16.--St. Paul's School vs. Boys' High-School; Pratt Institute

vs. Brooklyn Latin School.

Nov. 20.--"Poly Prep." vs. Boys' High-School; Brooklyn Latin

School vs. Adelphi Academy.

Nov. 23.--Brooklyn Latin School vs. St. Paul's School.

Nov. 26.--"Poly Prep." vs. Adelphi Academy.

The game between Lawrenceville and the Princeton 'Varsity showed

considerable improvement on the part of the school team; but it also

emphasized the fact that the end players are still weak, and that both

quarter and full back can be materially strengthened. On the whole, the

playing was sharp, and the work of the team as a unit showed that it was

made up of good stuff that will, no doubt, be moulded into shape by the

time of the Andover game. The tackling and breaking into Princeton's

interference were good, but the men were slow at the start off. Their

own interference did not form in time, and as yet the defensive work is

far inferior to that of last year's eleven.

[Illustration: Crane, r. e. Cheney, h.-b. Eliason, h.-b. Ellsworth,

h.-b.

Cook, r. t. Babcock, m'gr. Reiland, l. g. Warner, f.-b. Savage, l. e.

Brown, r. g. McKelvey, q.-b., Capt. Hixon, c. McCormick, l. t.

THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL FOOTBALL ELEVEN.]

At the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, the outlook for football is good,

notwithstanding the loss of such men as Cheney, Conner, Sheldon,

Spencer, Gray, and Wells. Many players who were raw last year are

developing well, and some good new men have come in. The line is heavier

than last year, and will be better, but the ends and backs are light,

averaging perhaps 140 pounds. Hixon, centre, plays a strong and steady

game, and may always be depended on. Reiland, left guard, though he puts

up a stiff game, is apt to lose his side much ground by off-side plays.

Brown, right guard, makes good holes and breaks through well, but runs

poorly with the ball. McCormick, left-tackle, is playing well, and runs

with the ball with force, but is inclined to be overconfident, does not

follow the ball closely, and is consequently out of many plays. Cook,

right tackle, is playing hard, but has much to learn. Crane, right end,

although very light, tackles well but is apt to be blocked off by the

interference. Savage, left end, breaks up the interference well, but is

a little weak in tackling.

McKelvey, at quarter-back, makes an excellent Captain, passes

accurately, and shows good judgment in the generalship of his team.

Warner, half and full, hits the line well, and plays a strong defensive

game. Ellsworth, left half, runs around the ends well, but is weak in

tackling. Warner must learn to punt better in order to hold his position

at full back. At present the team plays a better offensive than

defensive game. In offense the line-men block well and make good holes,

but in the defense they do not break through quickly enough, and do not

follow the ball as well as they should.

As the season advances and the teams of the Connecticut League get into

form, the struggle for the championship seems to be narrowing down to a

close fight between Hartford High-School and Hillhouse High of New

Haven, with the chances slightly in favor of the former. Hartford played

a strong game a week ago against the Yale Freshmen.

THE GRADUATE.

[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.

Gwendoline writes that she wishes to know the secret of being popular.

"I'd like to be a popular girl," she says, "a girl beloved by

everybody."

This is a natural wish, and in itself not wrong. There is a temptation

to wrong in it if the desire be carried so far that, in order to become

popular, the girl sacrifices valuable qualities of character, as, for

instance, independence of judgment and sincerity.

But there is no need of this. The girl who chooses to be popular needs

first to be unselfish. She must not consider her own ends first nor

chiefly. The atmosphere enfolding her must be that of love and kindness.

You know how some girls always try to have the best things, the best

places, the pleasant things, while they do not try to pass the good

times along to others. These are not popular girls. Nobody can be fond

of a selfish person.

Again, a really popular person must have courage. Courage enough to be a

leader. There are only a few leaders in any city, or school, or other

corner of the world. Most people are followers. I heard of a leader this

morning. She went to a boarding-school a long way off from home. Among

the teachers there was a little shy Miss Somebody whom the girls did not

like. They made fun of her prim manner and her queer tow-colored hair,

and a sort of mincing walk the poor lady had, and they did not see that

she was really a very learned woman who could teach them a great deal if

they would attend to her. Maria Matilda observed the state of affairs,

and decided that it was unjust, so she championed the little teacher.

She sent flowers to her desk. She listened respectfully when Miss

Diffidence was in the preceptor's chair. She began to be very fond of

her, and discovered that Miss Diffidence was really a dear, only

frightened out of her wits, among a crowd of unfeeling girls. Before

long Maria Matilda changed the whole situation, and, she being a born

leader, the rest followed her willingly. I need not add that Maria

Matilda is popular, _very_ popular.

Another requisite for the popular girl is _savoir-faire_; she must know

how to do things. Any one of us can have this power. It is a mere affair

of paying attention, of will, and of considering it worth while to be

able easily, in whatever place you are, to do the right thing, in the

right way, at the right time.

Charm of speech, charm of look, charm of manner belong to the popular

girl. Do you know how she acquires charm? By simply being genuinely

interested in those about her. When she talks to you she looks you in

the face. She has nothing to conceal. When you look at her, you see a

good heart shining in her eyes.

Now that I have said all this, I must add that you would far better be

unpopular your whole life through, than to make a study of the thing

merely for the sake of ambition or vanity. He that saveth his life shall

lose it, says the best of Books, which means that one who does anything

for purely selfish--which are always purely low--motives, will in the

end be sadly disappointed.

[Illustration: Signature]

MONEY FOR TOADS.

It is said that boys living in and about San Diego, California, are

making money catching horned toads for the Hawaiian government, which is

said to be importing them to destroy an insect which is ruining many

crops in the island. The government want 5000 toads, and is paying the

boys $1 a dozen for them.

HOW TOD GOT INTO THE HALLOWEEN GAMES.

Tod Forrest was one of those kind of boys that, when asked to exhibit

the contents of his pockets, could produce the oddest lot of trash.

He stood one afternoon lazily hanging on to a split rail fence, gazing

idly over the fields at a distant wood. "Well," he muttered, "I reckon

I've got to gather some of those 'ere nuts, after all. Let me see.

'Holly eve' comes to-morrow, and the boys won't let me in on the games

unless I do, so here goes."

Heaving a sigh, he climbed over the fence and made for the woods. He

penetrated deeper among the trees than usual, and after going some

distance he found himself on higher ground and in a new spot. A large

chestnut-tree thick with burs stood near the centre of a small knoll. It

was the work of a few minutes, and he was safely perched in a fork of

the branches, breaking open the burs with his knife and filling his

pockets with the nuts. He had filled two of those capacious maws, when

he was startled by a deep growl. There beneath him, nosing around among

the empty burs, was a good-sized bear. It frightened him so that he

nearly lost his seat.

Tod could always find the humorous side of things, however, and it

seemed that one of the burs he had thrown down had lighted on the bear's

nose and stuck there, tickling him.

It made the bear snort and growl in the most ludicrous fashion. This was

a short-lived matter, for through an incautious giggle on Tod's part the

animal discovered him, and started for the foot of the tree. Now a bear

can climb a tree about as good as any one, and Tod knew it, but lazy as

Tod was, he had a mind for emergencies, and seizing a handful of

chestnuts, he threw them at the bear. This second interruption attracted

the animal's attention, and he began devouring the nuts, evidently

something he was exceedingly fond of. After that to keep the bear out of

the tree Tod was obliged to throw down handful after handful of

chestnuts, the meanwhile despairing of his situation. He searched his

pockets, and, lucky thought, there among the trash were two small rifle

cartridges.

Selecting two of the largest nuts, he bored a hole in them and inserted

the cartridges. Waiting until the bear had finished his last handful and

stood greedily eying him, he gently threw the loaded nuts to the ground.

Anxiously he watched as the bear nosed around in search of them. In a

few moments one of them was found, but before the greedy animal munched

on it he secured the other. Now it was funny, but the bear seemingly

wanted to tantalize Tod, and lifting his head, stood looking at him

without attempting to chew the loaded chestnuts. Tod was scared, and

tears came into his eyes. The bear made one or two steps towards the

tree, and then hesitating, sat back on his haunches, with his eyes on

Tod, and commenced chewing.

Suddenly a very comical look of surprise came over that bear's face, and

almost instantly an explosion took place. Tod claims that the bear

jumped six feet into the air, and when he fell back on the ground again

he never waited an instant to learn what happened him, but scampered off

in the funniest lumbering fashion. Tod waited till he thought it was

safe, and climbing down, made tracks for home. The boys let him in at

the games on Halloween to hear him tell his story again, as they had by

that time substantiated it by the blood tracks of the bear.

HUBERT EARL.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Highest of all in Leavening Strength.--Latest U. S. Gov't Report.

[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

=CARDS FOR 1896.= 50 Sample Styles AND LIST OF 400 PREMIUM ARTICLES

FREE. HAVERFIELD CO., Cadiz, Ohio.

[Illustration: BICYCLING.]

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 map this week is of Boston and its vicinity, and the reader in using

it on the road must remember that a great many streets in the city have

been omitted here, and in many places it is impossible to put the names

of streets, owing to the necessity for covering so much ground on a

small map. Every macadamized or asphalted street is, however,

represented on the map. The object in publishing this map is not so much

to tell a rider how to get about in the city, _i.e._, in "old Boston,"

as to give him an idea of what roads to take in order to reach certain

suburbs and to follow certain bicycle routes which we intend giving in

the Department in the next few weeks. The city of Boston is eminently

suited for bicycle riding owing to the beautiful parks which are either

finished or in course of preparation at the present moment. As a usual

thing, the starting-point for a trip in the vicinity of Boston will be

laid at Copley Square, which is at the intersection of Boylston Street

and Huntington Avenue. The best way for reaching any of the suburbs or

towns to north and west is to run through any street from Copley Square

to Commonwealth Avenue, proceeding thence to Massachusetts Avenue,

turning right and crossing the Harvard Bridge, thence proceeding through

Cambridge out North Avenue to Arlington, Medford, Malden, etc.

To reach Chestnut Hill, Brookline, or Brighton, Commonwealth Avenue

should be followed across Massachusetts Avenue to Beacon Street, thence

out Beacon Street. Any of the suburbs further westward, such as Newton,

Wellesley, Jamaica Plain, etc., can be reached over one of the best

roads that was ever made for bicycle riders, _i.e._, through the new

park that has been built along the course of Stony Brook. To reach this

you proceed across Massachusetts Avenue on Commonwealth Avenue and turn

left into the Fenway, and follow what has been named "The Fens" by

keeping on any of the roads inside the park, such as the Riverway,

Jamaicaway, through Leverett Park, around Jamaica Pond, thence out

through the Arnold Arboretum, and from there taking what direction is

desired on the country roads. This run through "The Fens" and Leverett

Park, which in time will be extended from the Arboretum over to Franklin

Park, and thence to South Boston, will make one of the pleasantest short

afternoon bicycle rides in America. It will have the advantage of never

being monotonous, because there are many variations to the route,

allowing you to wind about in the park, cross different bridges, and

leave or enter it at many different points.

To reach Milton, Dorchester, Quincy, etc., there are many routes, the

shortest of which, though not perhaps the best, being to leave Copley

Square, to Commonwealth Avenue, to Massachusetts Avenue, turning to the

left and proceeding thence straight across Boston, out Massachusetts

Avenue to Five Corners. From Five Corners the rider should turn to the

right, proceeding by Boylston Street to Upham's Corner, thence by

Columbia Street to Franklin Park, turning to the left on Blue Hill

Avenue, whence he can either run to Hyde Park or Milton, or, turning

into Washington Street, and proceeding by Milton, to Quincy. Probably

the best road, though somewhat longer ride, is to run out over the

Fenway, Riverway, and Jamaicaway, across Franklin Park, and thence to

Milton.

NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of

route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,

Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New

Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.

Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.

Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in

No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in

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

822. Philadelphia-Wiasahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to

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

Stage in No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to

Vineland--First Stage in No. 827. Second Stage in No. 828. New

York to Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830;

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

No. 833. Boston to Concord, 834.

[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.

Plate-number collecting is booming. The newest development is the issue

of priced catalogues of the 1894 varieties, both with and without

water-marks. As yet no one has ventured to price any of the earlier

issues, but the demand for them is already greater than the supply.

A number of correspondents ask how many stamps are taken from each sheet

in plate collecting. Usually three, and care must be taken that the

stamps are not torn apart and that the margin is kept attached. The

usual form of imprint on the sheets of the present issue is the

following:

[Illustration: Bureau, Engraving & Printing. 149]

Some collectors keep the imprints from top, bottom, left, and right

sides, but most are content with one only. Plate No. 89 is the rarest of

all so far.

The Pittsburg Library has set apart an alcove for philatelic literature.

The other American libraries will probably soon be obliged to do the

same.

F. SCHOENTHALER.--The U.S. silver dollar of 1800 is worth $2. The

trade dollar is worth bullion value only.

F. M. L.--The 1845 dime is worth 20c.

H. J. LEAKE.--Confederate bills are very common, and I therefore

advise their collection, as it is comparatively easy to get a very

large number by the expenditure of little money, and they are very

interesting to all Americans. The dimes of 1829 and 1823 are sold

by dealers at 25 cents each. Your half-dollar is worth face only.

Mexican coins are worth their weight in silver only.

GEORGE FRANCE, JUN.--The 5-cent U.S. Internal Revenue is the

ordinary kind, of which many millions were used. It is sold by

dealers at 2 cents.

C. E. A.--I cannot undertake to look over a large lot of common

stamps when a little study on your part would enable you to fairly

understand them yourself. It would not be fair to you. One of the

great merits in stamp-collecting is that it trains the eye as well

as the mind.

S. HALL.--I cannot advise you about joining the A.P.A. Personally

I am not a member.

PHILATUS.

* * * * *

A GOOD CHILD

is usually healthy, and both conditions are developed by use of proper

food. The Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is the best infant's

food; so easily prepared that improper feeding is inexcusable and

unnecessary.--[_Adv._]

ADVERTISEMENTS.

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.

Arnold

Constable & Co

* * * * *

Children's Wear.

Corsets,

Ladies' Silk Skirts,

Ladies' Underwear,

Children's School Dresses,

Misses' Coats and Dresses,

Children's Coats and Jackets,

Ladies' Wrappers and Tea Gowns,

Children's Frocks for Dancing-school.

* * * * *

Broadway & 19th st.

NEW YORK.

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.

[Illustration]

=STAMPS!= =300= fine mixed Victoria. Cape of G. H., India, Japan, etc.,

with fine Stamp Album, only =10c.= New 80-p. Price-list =free=. _Agents

wanted_ at =50%= commission. STANDARD STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place, St.

Louis, Mo. Old U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.

[Illustration]

100 all dif. Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti,

Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts w't'd at 50% com. List FREE! =C. A.

Stegmann=, 5941 Cote Brilliante Ave., 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.

=FINE PACKETS= in large variety. Stamps at 50% com. Col's bought.

Northwestern Stamp Co., Freeport, Ill.

=10 RARE STAMPS FREE.= Send 2c. stamp. =F. E. THORP, Norwich, N.Y.=

STAMPS

Approval sheets at 50% com. Send at once.

THE OHIO STAMP CO., Carthage, Ohio.

FREE

[Illustration]

As a sample of our 1000 BARGAINS we will send FREE this elegant Fountain

Pen, warranted a perfect writer, and immense Illus. Bargain Catalogue,

for 10c. to cover postage, etc.

R. H. INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 CORTLANDT ST., N. Y. CITY.

HARPER'S PERIODICALS.

Per Year:

HARPER'S MAGAZINE _Postage Free_, $4.00

HARPER'S WEEKLY " 4.00

HARPER'S BAZAR " 4.00

HARPER'S ROUND TABLE " 2.00

* * * * *

_Booksellers and Postmasters usually receive subscriptions.

Subscriptions sent direct to the publishers should be accompanied by

Post-office Money Order or Draft._

* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS, New York, N.Y.

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

Chapter Programmes Again.

One of the chief reasons that juvenile clubs often disband for lack of

interest is because nothing is laid out for them to do. In the first

place, let it be said that those Chapters succeed best which adhere to

one or the other of the following policies:

1, Choose some older person to direct everything, and then obey

implicitly the suggestions laid down by that older person; or, 2,

Resolve the Chapter into a committee of the whole. Let all have a voice.

Agree upon a programme, and then follow it. The thing to be avoided most

is the running of the Chapter by a few of its members.

After the routine business have a subject for discussion. Select this

subject a long time in advance. Name some particular phase of it, and

appoint one member to open and lead the discussion. Then have

three-minute talks, and urge each member to speak. Doing so is admirable

practice. If others fail to get much from what is said, the speaker will

himself get a good deal, because he acquires the habit of thinking on

his feet.

A good subject for a whole winter is American history. In order to have

a definite plan in its study take up the "Federal Principle." That might

do for the opening evening. Tell the member who is to open it to consult

Moore's _American Congress_, and learn how James Otis, in the

Massachusetts Assembly, made the first suggestion that the colonies get

together--furnished us with the Federal principle itself. Find out who

Otis was, and what became of his resolution when it got to the Virginia

House of Deputies. Getting down to the time of the Revolution, on later

evenings, find out why the Articles of Confederation failed--because

they had too little Federalism in them.

Another subject which Chapters might take up is American politics. This

is a good topic for ladies as well as for men. Use Johnston's book with

the above title for a basis, and get your arguments from the newspapers.

Learn the structure of our local, State, and national government.

Another topic is the study of men and women of the past and present.

Secure the exclusive use of a good biographical dictionary. Require each

member present, under penalty of a small fine, to give the name of some

famous man or woman, and tell why he or she is known to the world. This

exercise will broaden your mental horizon wonderfully. For instance,

Herbert Martin, when his turn comes, says he has found many interesting

things in the life of Cavour. How many members of the average Chapter

can tell who Cavour was? Yet he was a modern man of the first rank.

Plan something to do, and your Chapter is likely to be interested in it.

To find out what that something shall be, consult your members, and

follow their wishes. Then get outside help from older persons, not to

tell you what to do, but to aid you to do that which you yourselves have

chosen to do. Such a course will make a strong and profitable Chapter.

Thousands of men of affairs will tell you, if you ask them, that one of

the greatest sources of help to them in their later years was the

knowledge and enthusiasm that they acquired in these juvenile societies.

The Word Hunts.

Not the slightest injustice will be done to any competitor in the "Word

Hunts," because full rules were not published with the first

announcement. Judges will cut out of all lists obsolete or other

prohibited words, and the chances of success will not be lessened

because such words were inserted. Do _not_ roll your lists.

A Special Offer.

Teachers, students, superintendents of Sunday-schools, Ladies, members

of the Round Table, and others willing to distribute ten to seventy-five

Prospectuses and personally commend HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, will receive,

according to number of Prospectuses distributed, bound volumes of

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for 1893, gold badges of the Round Table Order,

packet of fifty engraved visiting-cards, bearing their name, with copper

plate for future use, rubber stamp bearing their name and address,

nickel pencil resembling a common nail, or silver badge of the Round

Table Order. This offer is restricted to one person in a town or

neighborhood. In applying, state how many circulars you can place in the

hands of those sure to be interested in them, what are your facilities

for distributing them, and what prize you seek. Apply early.

For an In-door Evening.

The season of the year approaches when in-door parties are held. At

these parties riddles are often called for. Several members send us some

riddles. We group them here, with answers, that you may use them if you

have need:

For no crime did I come to my end,

No rope round my neck was e'er tied;

Though no jury decided my fate,

I was hanged from a tree till I died.

Answer: Absalom.

I was a baron bold and bad,

A follower of King John;

I lost my place, I lost my power,

And all my wealth was gone.

My story, told in jingling rhyme,

Familiar is to all:

For I'm only ---- ----

The ---- that had a fall.

Answer: Humpty Dumpty. Egg.

My first a party leader is,

A river is my second,

Whoever bears my third will still

A man of mark be reckoned.

An emperor, in sad disgrace,

Knelt barefoot at the portal

Of him whose name my whole betrays,

In church and state immortal.

Answer: Hill-Dee-Brand.--Hildebrand.

I'm a very busy person

About this time of year;

At morning and at night-time

I'm almost always here,

But at high noon I steal away

To come again at close of day.

Answer: Jack Frost.

The Helping Hand.

At the approaching Christmas-time cannot the Ladies, the Knights and

Patrons assisting, hold some fairs in aid of the School Fund? As a rule,

these fairs prove the most successful of any plan so far followed. There

is some work connected with such undertakings, but there is also much

pleasure. Won't _you_ speak to your friends about it at once? See what

they say and what they will do. You will find all willing to help. What

is needed is a leader. Won't you take the lead--set the ball rolling?

Prizes for Pen-Drawings.

Members are asked to bear in mind that we cannot send proof of the prize

story promptly, as several of you ask us to do, since the Story

Competition does not close till near the end of December. It is the

first prize story of that contest that is to be illustrated. We have

about fifty requests for the proof, so the contest is to be a spirited

one. With the proof, to be sent to contestants early in January, there

will be mailed hints about size, etc. The sum of $10 is offered for the

best illustration. Contestants select their own subject. Those who wish

to try for the prize should ask for proof. If, after you receive the

proof, you think you cannot successfully compete, you merely throw the

proof in the waste basket. Better try in the contest. You risk nothing.

By-the-way, do you remember the spirited illustrations of Mrs.

Roosevelt's _Heroes of America_ published last summer? They were the

professional work of Mr. F. C. Yohn, who, as an aspiring young man, and

then living in Indianapolis, tried in one of our pen-drawing contests,

winning a first prize.

How Did the Gypsy Know?

Years ago an old gypsy called on my grandmother and wanted to tell

her fortune. My grandmother didn't believe the gypsy's power to

tell of future events. But the gypsy persisted. Finally,

grandmother declared she had no money with which to pay her.

"Yes," said the old gypsy, "you have five dollars hid in that old

clock."

Well, my grandmother consented at this exhibition of the gypsy's

supernatural powers. And then the gypsy told her, among other

things, that she would have great trouble, leave Georgia, and go

away down South, and be left a widow, and then years after go back

to Georgia. Now, the strange part about this is that the gypsy's

prophecy was literally true. My grandmother, sure enough, went

away down on the Gulf coast, and her husband died soon after of

paralysis, and now, seven years after he died, she is on her way

back to Georgia. How did the gypsy know?

HARRY R. WHITCOMB.

UMATILLA, FLA.

Prices of the Order's Badges.

The new badges are an exact reproduction of the rose, in the centre of

which is claimed to be the original "round table" of King Arthur. You

will find a picture of the top of this table on the back of the 1896

Prospectus, and the centre of it at the bottom of the Patent. The prices

of the badges are: Pansy leaves or the rose, in silver, 10 cents--that

is, 8 cents for the badge and 2 cents for postage; of the rose, in gold,

85 cents, with nothing added for postage. All are in the form of stick

pins. Members are not required to purchase badges. We offer the silver

rose as payment for giving to your friends, whom you are sure will

appreciate them, fifteen Round Table circulars. The offer is open to all

members.

The Order's Handy Book.

Have you the Table's "Handy Book"? It has thirty-six pages, mostly

filled with useful facts. Full information is given about the Order and

the School Fund; and there are values of rare stamps and coins; lists of

words often misspelled; athletic records of 1895; books that all ought

to read; information about gaining admission to West Point and

Annapolis; populations of cities; rules of etiquette, etc. You may have

copies for yourself and friends, if you apply for them. Some members get

copies and give them to fellow-students in Sunday-school and day-school

classes.

A Question for You.

In the ninetieth line of the First Book of Virgil, the first two

words are _Intonuere poli_. The translation, as I have it, is "the

poles resound," meaning that the earth echoes with the heavy

thunders. Now will somebody please explain to me how the ancients

knew there were poles without having some idea of the roundness of

the earth? Almost the same expression is used in the 398th line,

as follows, _Et coetu cinxere polum_, etc.

ALFRED C. BAKER.

SCHAGHTICOKE, NEW YORK.

A Venetian Night at Newport.

On an evening recently Newport Harbor presented a fine appearance.

Of all displays ever given in Newport this was the most beautiful.

The procession started at half past eight. There were boats of

every description. They were decorated with Chinese lanterns and

colored electric lights. Among the most noticeable decoration was

the United States flag with a search-light behind it. It looked as

though it was painted on the sky. Across Thames Street were

electric lights constructed in such a way as to read:

1895.

Welcome Yachtsmen.

The Y.M.C.A. had a triangle made of Japanese lanterns. There were

also pictures of the _Defender_ made of cloth and outlined with

electric lights. It is estimated that there were between 25,000

and 30,000 lanterns used. A great many lights were constructed in

such a way as to make the whole outline of the boat show. There

was red fire and green fire burning all the time, also many

fireworks and two search-lights to brighten up the harbor. The sky

had a reddish tint. The naval reserves had a sea-serpent about

seventy-five feet long. Old Father Neptune took things easy on the

back of the monster. The serpent looked very docile, and its eyes

stuck out, taking in the grand display.

CHESTER GLADDING.

NEWPORT, R. I.

[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly

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

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

ABOUT OUR PRIZE COMPETITION.

Our annual Photographic Prize Competition has, as usual, attracted a

great deal of attention, not only from members of our Camera Club, but

from many who wish to become members in order to enter the competition,

for as this is the first time that the ROUND TABLE has opened a

photographic competition to all amateurs without regard to age, the

interest is much more widespread.

In order, however, that the younger members may not feel handicapped by

being obliged to compete with older ones, there is a competition opened

for them the same as in former years, and any who have not passed their

eighteenth birthday may enter this competition. There are three

classes--marines, landscapes, and figure studies. A correspondent asks

if pictures of paintings or engravings would come under the head of

figure studies. Pictures of pictures will not be admitted to the prize

competition. All pictures must be original, not copied from any other

picture. This would not prevent any one using a picture as a suggestion

of grouping or arrangement of the subject. Take, for instance, the

well-known picture by Murillo, "The Fruit Venders." A photograph of this

picture would not be admitted in the prize competition, but one might

take two children, pose them as nearly as possible like the children in

the picture, and then photograph. Such a picture would be an original

picture, but not an original idea.

Another question that was asked was if the pictures must be marked, or

if one must send a separate slip of paper with name on, etc. Rule VII.

says that "pictures must be marked with the name and address of the

sender, the class to which it belongs, and the statement whether the

artist has passed his or her eighteenth birthday." This means that the

picture must be marked, and by the picture is understood the card on

which it is mounted. The best place to mark a picture is on the back of

the card mount.

In regard to the size of a picture, a picture taken with a 4 x 5 camera

is meant, though a trimmed print is a little less than this dimension.

The picture must not be trimmed enough to bring it down to 3 x 4, as, of

course, that would bar it from the competition.

Competitors may send pictures to each class, and they are not restricted

as to number.

The students of the Illinois College of Photography are going to enter

the competition. As this is the only college of photography in the

United States we shall expect to see some very fine work.

Will Sir Knight Robert H. Sanders, Jersey City, New Jersey, please

send street and number. A letter addressed to him at Jersey City

has been returned to the editor marked, "Not Found." If Sir Robert

will send address the letter will be forwarded to him at once.

[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

A luxury is "Anything which pleases the senses and is also costly or

difficult to obtain."

Ivory Soap pleases the senses, but is neither costly nor difficult to

obtain. Your grocer keeps it.

THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI.

[Illustration]

Every whale has barnacles--every success has imitators.

The De Long Patent Hook and Eye.

[Illustration]

See that hump?

Richardson & De Long Bros., Philadelphia.

[Illustration]

"Waterloo"

The popular and exciting new battle-game for 2, 3, or 4 players. For

young or old.

Price $1.25.

The Parker Games

All PLAY WELL!

Ask for "_Innocence Abroad_," "_Napoleon_," "_Chivalry_," "_Yankee

Doodle_."

Sold Everywhere.

[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=

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

WATER]

GRATEFUL--COMFORTING.

EPPS'S COCOA.

BREAKFAST--SUPPER.

"By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which govern the operations

of digestion and nutrition, and by a careful application of the fine

properties of well-selected Cocoa, Mr. Epps has provided for our

breakfast and supper a delicately flavored beverage which may save us

many heavy doctors' bills. It is by the judicious use of such articles

of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong

enough to resist every tendency to disease. Hundreds of subtle maladies

are floating around us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point.

We may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves well fortified

with pure blood and a properly nourished frame."--_Civil Service

Gazette._

Made simply with boiling water or milk. Sold only in half-pound tins, by

Grocers, labelled thus:

JAMES EPPS & CO., Ltd.,

Homoeopathic Chemists, London, England.

[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 on outfit and large catalogue of 1000

Bargains.

R. H. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 Cortlandt St. N.Y. City

[Illustration]

"When Christmas was Christmas."

"Seven Crown Jewels."

A precious collection it is, indeed, both of old and new, this

"=Christmas in Song and Story=," with its nearly three hundred Songs and

Hymns and Carols, each in its musical setting. "Where can another such

garner be found, so rare, so choice, and so full?" Twenty-two full-page

illustrations, of Christmas subjects, from Nast to Raphael. The literary

selections are long, but each is complete. "To have these seven crown

jewels brought together into one diadem," says _Christian Culture_, "is

alone worth more than is asked for the entire work, to say nothing of

its rich setting both musical and pictorial." Large quarto, crimson

cloth, $2.50. Address

Harper & Brothers, New York.

[Illustration: THRILLING EXPERIENCE OF TWO YOUNG HEATHENS WHO LEARNED TO

SKATE.

I. THEY TIED THEIR QUEUES TOGETHER, SO THAT IF EITHER BROKE THROUGH HE

WOULD BE RESCUED BY THE OTHER. II. IT SEEMED DELIGHTFUL UNTIL-- III. ONE

OF THEM SLIPPED AND BOTH FELL; IV. BUT AFTER A LITTLE PRACTICE THEY GOT

ON QUITE NICELY, WHEN-- V. THEY BOTH BROKE THROUGH, AND-- VI. THEIR

CAUTION AND FORETHOUGHT PROVED THE MEANS OF SAVING THEIR LIVES.]

A TIMELESS TOWN.

The old proverb says that time was made for slaves. It is certainly true

that it was not made for Alsacians, if the following story told by a

traveller lately returned from Alsace be true. Says he: "On my return

from Belchen, I looked upon the beautiful villages of the Lewen Valley,

and being a tourist who likes to poke his nose into everything, I

turned, by chance, into the church at Kirchberg. On coming out I took

out my watch to regulate it by the clock in the church tower. But there

was no clock to be seen. Hence I went into the village inn, and there

asked the time. But my host could not oblige me. 'I can't tell you

exactly, for, you see,' he said, 'we have no use for clocks. In the

morning we go by the smoke rising from the chimney at the parsonage up

on the hill. The parsonage people are very regular. We dine when dinner

is ready. At 4 P.M. the whistle of the train coming from Massmunster

tells us that the time has come for another meal, and at night we know

that it is time to go to bed when it is dark. On Sunday we go to church

when the bell rings. Our parson is a very easy-going man, and he doesn't

mind beginning half an hour sooner or later."

FORCE OF HABIT.

Force of habit impels us to do a great many ridiculous things. That

clever little compendium of wit and information, _Tit Bits_, well

illustrates this fact with a story of a railway porter, living in

Lancashire, who was in the habit of frequently getting up in his sleep,

and from whose actions it was evident that his daily occupation was ever

present in his mind. One night he jumped up hurriedly, ran down to the

kitchen, vigorously opened the oven door, and cried out, "Change here

for Bolton, Bury, and Manchester."

A PROPER RETORT.

A good story is told of a self-respecting carpenter who was sent to make

some repairs in a private house. As he entered the room in which the

work was to be done, accompanied by his apprentice, the lady of the

house called out, "Mary, see that my jewel-case is locked."

The carpenter understood, and, as he was an honest man, he was

indignant. He had his opportunity, however, and he used it. He removed

his watch and chain from his waistcoat with a significant air, and gave

them to his apprentice.

"John," he said, "take these back to the shop. It seems that this house

isn't safe."

SOMETHING WRONG.

It was a very cold morning, and Bobbie came rushing into the house very

much excited.

"Mommer," he cried, "there's something the matter with me. Please send

for the doctor. _I'm breathing fog!_"

A DOG STORY.

A London dog story is apt to be a hard sort of a tale to believe, but it

is never lacking in interest. The latest is of a dog who takes a daily

walk with its mistress. The animal has observed that at a certain

crossing the policeman stops the traffic to allow his mistress to pass

over. The other day the dog went out alone, and when he came to the

crossing he barked to attract the policeman's attention. The policeman

observed what the dog wanted. He stopped the traffic, and the dog walked

solemnly across.

A MISTAKE.

"Now, Jimmie," said his teacher, "let us take up the alphabet. There are

in all twenty-six letters."

"Hoh!" giggled Jimmie.

"What are you laughing at?" asked the teacher.

"You're trying to fool me," said Jimmie, "'bout them letters. Our

postman has more'n a hundred every morning."

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, October 29, 1895, by Various