CHAPTER XVIII.

A CRUISE ON MY OWN ACCOUNT.

As I stood there, not knowing what to do, I saw the fingers of a man come

over the edge of the cabin window; then a face appeared, and, seeing who

it was, I leaned forward and laid hold of the carpenter by the back of

his shirt to help him. He murmured something inarticulate, and I saw the

reason why he could not get in through the window. He had his cutlass in

his teeth, and I had to relieve him of it and do some powerful hauling

before I had him inside lying on his back on the cabin deck. I closed my

hand over his mouth, and bending my head close to his, whispered: "Hush

for your life! There's a sleeping man within touch of us!"

But now the hilt of another cutlass appeared at the window. I took it,

and enjoining silence on those below in the boat, the carpenter and I

hauled in another man. We must have made some noise, but the deep

breathing went on undisturbed until every man jack of us had come in

through that window. But it was no place to hold a consultation. With my

finger to my lips, I stepped to the passageway, took down the lantern

from its hook, and came back with it. The sleeper was snoring, and we

saw that he was in a bunk behind a half-closed curtain. And now the

reason for his sound rest was apparent; as we pulled aside the cloth,

ready to jump on him if he made a sound, we smelt the strong odor of

rum, and perceived that the man had clasped in his arms a big black

bottle, much in the way a child in a cradle might fall asleep with a

doll.

"You can't wake _him_," said the carpenter, who was called "Chips" by

the crew, and if I had not stopped him, I think he would have tweaked

the sleeper's nose.

"One of you stay down here and guard him," I said. "Mr. Chips, you and

those three men close the forward hatch. I and these five men will take

care of the man at the wheel and the watch. Now, steady! Make no noise!"

They followed me out to the little passageway that led to the foot of

the ladder, and I went up it softly. I saw but two moving figures on

deck--a man forward leaning with both elbows on the rail, and aft, the

binnacle light reflecting on the face of an old sailor with a growth of

long white whiskers; his eyes were half closed, and his fingers were

grasped tightly around the spokes. Followed by the three men I had

detailed, I jumped up on deck. The old seaman at the wheel made no

outcry, for danger was probably the last thing he had in his mind. (He

took us for some of the crew, I found out afterwards.) When he looked at

the pistol that I pointed at his head, however, his jaw dropped, and

without a word his legs gave way and he sat down backwards on the deck.

In the mean time the carpenter had clapped a pistol to the head of the

man leaning over the rail, two others found sleeping on the forward deck

were held quiet in the same manner, and I heard the slam of the hatch

with satisfaction.

I had command of the brig, without a word having been spoken above a

breath.

I say I had command of the brig right enough, but there was to be a

little trouble, after all, which came near to putting me out of the game

altogether; but of that later.

In obedience to the plan, the side lights had been extinguished, the

yards swung about, the helm put down, and we were steering northeast by

east according to the compass.

I was standing by the man at the wheel, trembling with the agitation of

pent self-congratulation. I would have given a great deal to have

relieved my feelings by a cheer.

"Who are you? Pirates?" said a shaking voice at my side. I looked

around. There stood the old sailor with his knees half bent, as if they

refused to straighten.

"We're Yankee privateersmen," I said, grinning at him.

"Much the same thing," he muttered--"pirates! What are you going to do

with us?"

"Treat you kindly, if you make no noise," I answered, rather amused than

otherwise.

This appeared to relieve the old man greatly. The carpenter now came

aft.

"I've bucked and gagged the men I found on deck," he said. "You don't

want to heave them overboard, do you?" he added, chuckling.

"No!" I answered, quickly.

I had no time to find out whether the man was joking or not in asking

this, for a flash of red fire tore out against the darkness less than a

mile astern of us. Then a crash reached our ears. Some more flashes and

reports in criss-cross, and then a burst of flame so bright that I could

make out the outlines of a vessel from her lower yards to the water!

"By the great sharks, Mr. Hurdiss," cried the carpenter, "old Smiler has

run afoul of a frigate, and no less! That's the end of him."

As we learned afterwards, that broadside was the end of poor Captain

Gorham, and the tight little Yankee also. But we soon had affairs of our

own to look after, and I myself had my hands full.

The report of the first shot had caused something of a commotion below.

I heard the sound of a cry and an oath, and rushing to the head of the

companion ladder, I was almost knocked down by a great man who came up

it on the jump. He was bleeding from a gash the full length of his face,

but I recognized him as the one who had been asleep in the berth below.

"Demons! Devils!" he shrieked, and avoiding my grasp, he jumped for the

side, and went overboard head first, with a wild, unearthly scream.

I knew that a struggle must have taken place in the cabin, and calling

the carpenter to follow me, I jumped down the steps, and here is where

the unexpected happened. The lantern I had left there had been

extinguished. All was pitch dark, but I could hear a faint groaning to

the right. I felt along the passageway with my hand, and as I extended

it I touched something that moved. At the same moment my wrist was

caught in a tight grasp and a hand fumbled up my chest as if reaching

for my throat.

"Who are you?" said a voice, in unmistakable English accents.

For reply I laid hold of the reaching hand, and thus the strange man and

I stood there close together. I could not reach my pistol, or I would

have shot him dead.

"Who are you?" he repeated, hoarsely.

I said nothing, but endeavored to wrench my hand free. The man, at this,

began to shout.

"Ho, Captain Richmond, mutiny!" he cried, and threw his whole weight

upon me, as if to bear me down. "Ho, Richmond! You drunken fool, the men

have risen!" he roared again.

I had wrestled with many of my fellow-prisoners at Stapleton, but I had

never been against such a man as this heretofore. I almost felt my ribs

go as he grasped me, but I got my hip against him, and we came down

together, completely blocking up the passageway. I fumbled for my

pistol, but could not reach it, and taking me off my guard, the man

shifted his grasp to my throat. I tried to evade it, but it was too

late. I caught him by both wrists, and for a second managed to keep his

thumbs from choking me.

"Get a light! A light!" I cried.

I had got my knee wedged in the pit of the man's stomach, and was

pushing him with all my might, but even with this and the aid of my

hands I could not break away. Gradually my breath stopped, lights

flashed and danced before my eyes. I could feel my chest heaving as if

my heart would come out of my body; then it seemed to me I heard an

explosion far above me, and I knew no more.

When I drifted back to the sense of knowing that I was alive, it took me

some minutes to gather the strings of my mind and haul in my ideas. At

first I could not have told who I was, and for a long time my

whereabouts were a puzzle to me. It might be the first question of any

one to whom I should tell this to ask why I did not speak, and thus find

out the condition of affairs. But let me assure you I was doing my best

to form words and sentences, and the only result was a whistling,

wheezing sound in my throat. My voice was gone! At last I found strength

to raise my hand, and I felt that I was in a box of some kind, and this

puzzled me still more until I heard voices talking to one side of me,

and I recognized Chips, the carpenter, saying:

"It was a quick funeral, Dugan. And how is the young gentleman?"

Then the whole situation came back to me clearly, and I knew where I was

and all about it. I put out my other hand this time, pulled aside the

curtains, and it was as I supposed; they had placed me in one of the

cabin-bunks; it was the very one, by-the-way, in which the drunken

Captain had been sleeping.

"Well, sir," said the carpenter, "so you've come back to join us? It

isn't every one who's been so near the great gate and returned."

I tried to answer something, and it must have been an odd sight to have

seen me sitting there dizzy and swaying, working my mouth without a

sound forth-coming. Something was choking me. At last I made a motion;

they understood that I wished a drink of water, and Dugan went to fetch

it for me. It pained me much to swallow or to move my head; I can truly

sympathize with any man who has been hanged.

They had put something in the drink, however, that made me feel a bit

stronger, and I motioned for Chips to come close to me.

"Have we come about?" I whispered.

"Yes, Captain," he replied, nodding his head and smiling encouragement,

the way one addresses an invalid. "We came about some time ago, and are

now holding a course southwest-by-south-half-south. Is that right, sir?"

I nodded. All I knew was that if we held this course long enough we

would fetch up somewhere on the coast of the United States.

But the man's addressing me as "Captain" pleased me. Yes, surely, I was

the prize-master of the brig, and the men looked to me to manage her.

But I did not even know her name as yet, and there were many things that

I wished to find out. So, taking Chips's arm, I made a sign telling him

that I wished to go on deck.

The cabin had been lighted by the lantern hanging above our heads. As we

went down the passageway I saw that another light was coming from a

small door that opened into a little closetlike space which contained

two bunks. A horn lantern was suspended from the deck beam, and a man

with his head bound up in a bloody cloth was in the lower bunk.

"It's Fisher, the man we left guarding the drunken skipper," said Chips.

"He was struck on the head with a bottle."

We were at the foot of the ladder, and I saw that it was from this place

that the man with whom I had had the struggle had emerged. It was right

here where I was standing that we had been fighting, and it was there we

lay. I looked down and saw that the passageway had been lately slushed

out, for a sopping squilgee had been tossed in the corner.

"Where is he?" I asked.

The carpenter shrugged his shoulders. I understood with a shudder, and

did not repeat the question. What was the use?

By the motion of the vessel I knew that the wind must be light, and

glancing up as I came to the top of the ladder, I saw that the carpenter

was well up in his business, and that in him I had an able lieutenant.

The brig had every stitch of canvas set, and despite the fact that she

was very old-fashioned and bluff in the bows, we were making good

headway, and rolling out two rippling waves that seethed and tumbled on

either side of us.

It would soon be dawn. The sky was growing light in the east, and the

glow was spreading every minute, so that I judged it must be in the

neighborhood of four o'clock in the morning. I sat down on the edge of

the cabin sky-light and rested my elbows on my knees; and in that

attitude I gave thanks that my life had been spared, and prayed that

strength would be given to me to meet any danger that might come before

me.

The dawning of a day is a very beautiful and holy thing to watch,

especially at sea, with the red edge of the sun creeping slowly up

against the horizon, and the expanding sense that one feels in his soul

at the world's awakening. Had I a gifted pen, I should love to describe

the sight I have seen so often--the growing of color in the water, from

black to gray, from gray to green and blue; the red-tipped clouds, and

all--but I shall not attempt it; I should fail. Even this day I noticed

the beauty of it, but I began to worry about my throat (I was in great

pain again), and wondered whether the pressure of the man's fingers had

destroyed my larynx. But if I had lost power of speech, I knew that the

carpenter would carry out my intentions, and that he probably could give

the orders in much better fashion than I could. So it was not necessary

for me to borrow trouble, although I hated to think of whispering for

the rest of my existence.

[Illustration: HE LEANED HIS FACE OVER THE HOLE AND SHOUTED.]

Suddenly I thought of the prisoners penned in the forecastle, and I

approached the carpenter, who was chatting with the man at the wheel,

and asked him about them--whether he had held converse with them, and

how many were they. He informed me that there were eight fore-mast hands

and the second and third mates cooped up below, and that the only way

they could get out was through the forward hatch, which he had nailed

down. I walked to the bow with him, and saw that he had cut a square

hole in the middle of the hatch cover big enough to admit air and to

permit of talking with those below. He leaned his face over the hole and

shouted:

"Below there, ye Johnny Bulls! How fares it?"

The reply was a chorus of cursing. But at last one man succeeded in

hushing the others, and I could hear his words distinctly. He spoke with

a strong Scotch burr.

"Who are ye? Where are ye takin' us?" he asked.

"We're Yankees," answered Chips, "and you know that right well. We're

taking you for a trip to the land of liberty. If you behave yourselves,

and stop your low talk and your blaspheming, you'll have your breakfast

soon. We're Christians."

There was no further conversation, and at this instant I was seized with

a hemorrhage from my throat, and the carpenter insisted upon my turning

in in the cabin, which I was not loath to do, as moving about seemed to

start the blood in my throat. I went below, and lay there all the

morning, suffering not a little. They brought me food, but I was unable

to swallow it; but when I fell asleep at last, I was awakened in a few

minutes, it seemed to me, by Chips touching me on the shoulder.

"It's near meridian, Captain Hurdiss," he said. "Hadn't you better take

a squint at the sun? The wind is getting up a bit too, sir," he said,

"and the glass has fallen."

I endeavored to get my feet, but the motion started the trouble in my

throat, and I fell back, weakly.

"Never mind; you'd better keep to your bunk," the carpenter said.

"To-morrow you'll be up and about, I'll warrant. I'll leave this bottle

for you, sir."

I detected an anxious look in his face as he handed me a glass of water

and spirits. Again I fell asleep, and awoke some time late in the

afternoon, feeling much better.

The brig had a great motion on her, and every plank and timber was

groaning and creaking. I took a sip out of the bottle, which was wedged

in the corner of the bunk, and although it scalded and burned me, it

seemed to give me strength, and I crawled out, and stumbling to the foot

of the ladder, made my way up on deck. The sky had grown black and

angry. We were on the starboard tack under reefed topsails, and

everything was wet with flying spray. The _Duchess of Sutherland_, for

that was the brig's name, belonged to an era of shipbuilding when they

believed that every breeze must blow over a vessel's stern, I should

think. The way she kept falling off was a caution. She appeared to go as

fast sideways as she did ahead, and such a pounding and thumping as she

made of it I have never seen equalled. Most of the crew were on deck,

and one of them, a fine seaman named Caldwell, saw me standing holding

on to the hatch combing. He came up, touching his forehead in salute.

"She's a bug of a ship, Captain Hurdiss," he said.

I nodded, and glanced up at the aged time-seamed masts.

"It won't pay to carry much more sail, sir," the man said, as if in

suggestion.

I beckoned him to put his head close to mine, and gave an order to take

in the foresail, for it was holding us back more than helping us. The

man bawled out the order, and jumped with the rest to obey it. I felt so

weak that once more I sought the cabin. I took a glance at the barometer

as I went by, and saw that it was still falling; that we were in for a

hard blow or a storm I did not doubt.

But the rolling and tumbling increased, and the groaning and complaining

of the timbers led me to believe that the old craft was working like a

basket, which was exactly what she was doing. Suddenly she gave a lurch

so hard and sharp to port that I was almost spilled out of the berth,

and fear giving me strength, I crawled up on deck on all fours. The man

at the wheel was doing his best to bring the brig's head up in the wind,

the jib had blown out and was tearing into streamers, the men in the

forecastle were working away at something, and I heard a wail from the

prisoners below.

It looked as if we were bound to capsize, but at this moment the topsail

blew out of the bolts and we righted. But the storm was upon us; the

tops of the seas blew off and scudded along the surface like drifting

snow; there was a fiendish howling in the rigging. I motioned with my

hand for the helmsman to swing her off. He understood, and soon we were

before it, scudding under bare poles toward the north. But even then the

_Duchess_ made bad weather of it, yawing and plunging badly. Dugan, whom

I had appointed second mate, came up to me.

"It's safer to run, Captain," he said, shouting in my ear. "Go below,

sir; Chips and I will keep the deck."

As I could be of no use, I took his advice, and crawled into the bunk

again, trying to assure myself that all was well. It had grown very

dark, although it was but seven o'clock, and I had lain there but a

half-hour or so, when the carpenter came rushing in. Even in the dim

light I could see the terror in his blanched face.

"Heaven help us, Captain!" he said. "I've just sounded the well, sir,

and there's three feet of water in the hold!"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

* * * * *

IT CEASED PUBLICATION.

The editor of a petty newspaper in France was extremely sad. He sat in

his office with bowed head and troubled brow. Long had he fought against

Adversity's strides, but at last they had overtaken him, and now, with

no money to bring out the future issue, his only alternative was to

cease publishing. The once paying circulation had dwindled to a mere

nothing, and the wielder of the blue pencil and scissors racked his

brains for an honorable excuse for quitting. It took hours, and at last

he jumped up.

"Jacques," he called to his printer, "we will get out one more issue,

and that will be the last. I will devote every page of it to the

festivities occasioned by the visit of the Czar of Russia, and on the

head of the sheet put in large display type this line:

"In commemoration of his illustrious Majesty the Czar of Russia, this

paper, always an exponent of the nation's welfare, will cease

publication."

THE INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT.

BY A. MAURICE LOW.

Once in every four years Washington witnesses a sight the parallel of

which is only to be seen in the great court pageants of monarchical

Europe. The inauguration of a President is always made a great ceremony;

it is accompanied with such a display, the stage settings for this

performance are so gorgeous, and so unlike anything else we are

accustomed to in other cities, that one must go to Washington to see a

ceremonial so impressive in the lesson it conveys and so interesting

from the personages who are the central figures. There are often seen

larger parades than those which march down historic Pennsylvania Avenue

on the morning of the 4th of March, but none which so truly represents

the greatness of the Union and draws from every corner of the country.

On the 4th of March the President and the President-elect drive from the

White House to the Capitol and back, and in the evening there is a grand

ball. This sounds simple enough, but for months before that day hundreds

of the leading citizens of Washington, and scores of men in other

places, have been working many hours a day to perfect the details, and

on their labors depends whether the great occasion shall be a success or

spoiled by an awkward mishap. So soon as the election is over, the

chairman of the National Committee of the successful candidate appoints

a prominent citizen of Washington to be chairman of the inaugural

committee, and he in turn appoints the other members of the committee.

These men are the principal bankers, merchants, lawyers, newspaper men,

and other public-spirited citizens, without regard to party, as the

inauguration is a national affair, and all men are ready to show their

respect to the President. Everything relating to the inauguration is

left to these committees. The first thing they have to do is to raise a

guarantee fund for the necessary expenses--the decoration of the

ballroom, the music, and such other things. This year the committee

fixed the amount at $60,000, all of which has been contributed by

private persons. With the exception of providing the room in which the

ball is held and building a stand or two, the government defrays none of

the expenses, the entire cost being met by private contributions.

The committees have to decide what organizations and troops shall be in

the parade and the places they are to occupy; they superintend the

decoration of Pennsylvania Avenue, the main thoroughfare of Washington,

leading from the White House to the Capitol; the erection of stands from

which the thousands of people who come to the city to take part in the

pageant may witness it; arranging for accommodations for the strangers,

and the selection of the grand-marshal of the procession. This last is a

very important matter. Necessarily the marshal must be a military man

who has been used to the handling of large bodies of men, as on that day

he commands an army larger than that of the regular force of the United

States, and it requires great military skill and cool judgment to make

of the parade a success, instead of a failure, as it would be in the

hands of an incompetent man. General Horace Porter, who has a

distinguished military record, will lead the hosts this year.

[Illustration: THE CROWD LISTENING TO THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS.]

It is the custom for the President-elect to arrive in Washington a few

days before the inauguration. Rooms are engaged for him at one of the

hotels. Shortly after his arrival he drives to the White House and pays

his respects to the man whose successor he is so soon to be. When Mr.

Cleveland paid his first visit to the White House Mr. Arthur was

President. Mr. Cleveland was then a bachelor, and his late political

rival escorted him over the house, and recommended to him his

sleeping-room as being the quietest and most comfortable in the mansion.

Later in the same day the President returns the call, the visits in both

cases being very short, and official rather than social. While the

President-elect is waiting to be sworn into office his time is generally

very fully occupied in receiving public men, many of whom he meets for

the first time, and sometimes in completing his cabinet. It has happened

on more than one occasion that after the President-elect reached

Washington he finally made up his mind as to a particular member of the

cabinet.

[Illustration: DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA TROOPS IN THE INAUGURAL PARADE.]

At last comes the great day. The city is thronged with strangers. All

Washington has been hoping for months that the sky will be blue and the

air balmy, which is often but not always the case. There have been

inaugurations when the weather was so warm overcoats were superfluous;

at other times rain has fallen in torrents, snow has been piled up on

the sidewalks, and men who escorted the President to the Capitol have

had their ears and fingers badly frost-bitten. But whether fine or

gloomy, from an early hour the capital of the nation takes on an air of

unwonted activity. Orderlies and aides in gay uniforms are seen dashing

in all directions, bands march up one street and down another, companies

and regiments wend their way to their appointed positions, thousands of

sight-seers pack the sidewalks, fill the stands and the windows on the

line of the procession. Four years ago, when Mr. Cleveland was

inaugurated for the second time, the weather was so cold that many of

the men in the parade were frost-bitten, and several deaths resulted

from the exposure. The night before it snowed heavily, which early the

following morning turned into slush, and later in the day froze. But

despite the forbidding weather the usual numbers were on the streets to

see the new President, and men and women sat for hours on exposed stands

rather than give up their places after having paid for them. Four years

before that, when General Harrison was inducted into office the rain

fell with pitiless fury, and yet under a sea of umbrellas people stood

on the east front of the Capitol, and heard the new President deliver

his first official pronouncement to the country. Many paid for their

curiosity with their lives.

Whether the sun shines, or it rains in torrents, or the snow covers

everything in its poetical but moist mantle, the President and the

President-elect must ride to the Capitol in an open carriage. That is a

penalty greatness has to pay to popular custom, and it has often been

wondered at that the drive has not been fatal to one or both of the men.

Nearly all the time during what is often a most unpleasant drive the new

President has his hat off, bowing his acknowledgments to the applause

which is never silent for one moment. It roars and rolls like a great

salvo of artillery, in its intensity at times drowning even the music of

the bands, and there are scores of them, all playing at the same time.

Attended by a committee of Congress, regular infantry and artillery,

thousands of militia from various States, and an even greater number of

civic organizations, the President and President-elect drive in an open

carriage, drawn by four horses, to the Capitol. Here everybody prominent

in official life awaits them. In the Senate-chamber are the Senators,

members of the House of Representatives, the Chief Justice and the

associate justices of the Supreme Court of the United States, the

members of the diplomatic corps, and the members of the cabinet.

The Vice-President precedes the President-elect to the Senate, and will

have taken the oath of office while Major McKinley is _en route_. As

soon as Mr. Hobart has been sworn in, he and the other personages who

have been in the Senate-chamber proceed to the platform erected on the

east front of the Capitol, and to which the President-elect has been

escorted. Here, confronting an immense assemblage, the oath is

administered by the Chief Justice, and then, by this simple ceremony

Major McKinley having become President, and Mr. Cleveland being an "ex,"

the new President reads his inaugural address. When that is finished,

Major McKinley is once more escorted to his carriage and driven to a

reviewing-stand erected in front of the White House, where for several

hours he has to salute and be saluted by the thousands as they sweep

past him. It is usually late in the afternoon before the new President

is able to leave the stand and enjoy a short rest before once more

taking part in one of the features of the inauguration day. It is worthy

of note how quickly the transformation is effected from the great power

of the President to the private life of the citizen. When the

ex-President leaves the White House in the morning to drive with his

successor to the Capitol, it is seldom that he re-enters his former

residence. Some Presidents have been known to drive direct from the

Capitol to the railroad station and start on their journey home; while

General Arthur remained in Washington for some days after Mr.

Cleveland's inauguration, but as the guest of ex-Secretary of State

Frelinghuysen, John Adams was so exasperated by the election of his

successor, that he refused to accompany him to the Capitol, and left

Washington early on the morning of the fourth. Curiously enough, his son

was equally as discourteous, and so was President Johnson. But with the

administering of the oath to the new President, the man who five minutes

before was the Chief Magistrate of the nation has become merely a

private citizen. There is no courtesy shown to the man who has been. He

drives to the station or to his friend's house unattended, without

escort, without any one anxious to see him. When Mr. and Mrs. Cleveland

leave Washington early in March it will be just as any other persons do.

There has been little change in the general details of inaugurations

from the time of George Washington to the present. Jefferson, according

to tradition, rode to the Capitol on horseback, tied his steed to a

paling, and took the oath in a very democratic fashion. But if history

is to be believed, Jefferson rode because the fine new coach he ordered

for the occasion was not finished in time, and had it been finished, six

horses would have drawn the chariot. When Jackson returned to the White

House after the ceremony at the Capitol, the doors were thrown wide open

and punch served to every one. The scene that followed is almost

indescribable. Furniture was smashed, carpets destroyed, and the dresses

of women ruined in the mad rush to drink the President's punch, and

that, I believe, was the last time the attempt was made to keep open

house on the 4th of March. President Arthur was twice inaugurated.

Immediately on receipt of a telegram announcing the death of General

Garfield, he sent for one of the New York judges and took the oath, his

son and only one other person being present. The scene was very

pathetic. Later he publicly took the oath in the Capitol, Chief-Justice

Waite administering it. At one time it was thought that only the Chief

Justice of the United States could swear in the President. But this is a

mistake. The oath taken before a notary public or any other person

competent to administer it is legal. On the death of Mr. Lincoln, Andrew

Johnson took the oath privately in his room. After Mr. Lincoln's family

left the White House, he entered it without any ceremony.

[Illustration: THE BALL IN THE PENSION BUILDING.]

It has been the custom for a ball to be held on the evening of the 4th

of March. Of late years this ball has taken place in the hall of the

Pension Building, a great court 280 feet long and 130 feet wide. From

the floor to the roof-tree is 150 feet. This spacious room is

elaborately decorated, and two great stands are erected on which are

placed bands, one for dance music and the other for promenade. The floor

is generally too crowded for dancing. At the last ball it is estimated

that 12,000 persons were in attendance, but in corners here and there

some of the younger people manage to find space enough for a few turns.

The President is not expected to dance. He makes a circuit of the hall,

and then retires to a room set apart for him, where he holds a

reception. It is usually midnight before he leaves, and his first day as

President of the United States comes to an end. After the President

leaves, the room is less crowded, and dancing is more generally indulged

in. Any one can attend the ball who cares to buy a ticket, the money

derived from this source going to reimburse the subscribers to the

guarantee fund.

WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.

BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

To be glad that some one we love was born,

And began his life on a certain day,

In the time of the sun and the tasselled corn,

In the time of the blossom, the time of May,

Or perhaps, when the feathery snow-flake flies,

And the world lies white under winter skies.

All that is nothing, 'tis one we know,

One who is with us in our class,

School days and home days, to and fro,

We smile and chat, and we meet and pass;

But here is our chief! Our hero! One

Who lived and died, and was done with earth

Long before our time! Washington,

And we keep with gladness his day of birth!

The cannons rock, and the banners wave,

The soldiers march, and the proud drums roll,

For knightly and gallant, true and brave,

Fame wrote his name on her faceless scroll,

Never to wane, that stately fame

Forever dear to a grateful State,

From age to age that immortal name

Shall a joyful people celebrate.

A WINTER'S MORNING IN THE YELLOW SEA.

AN INCIDENT OF THE CHINO-JAPANESE WAR.

BY AN AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICER.

There exists no more disagreeable place for a winter's anchorage than the

so-called harbor of Che-foo, China, just north of the Shan-tung

Promontory, in the Yellow Sea. During the winter of 1895-6 a powerful

fleet of some twenty war-vessels, representing the flags of seven

nationalities, was there gathered together. The Chino-Japanese war was

then in progress, and the active operations of the Japanese, in the

investment of Wei-hai-wei, had been going on for some time. From

Wei-hai-wei, Che-foo was distant about thirty-five miles, and this

latter port, having been one of those originally opened by treaty, had

acquired importance as a commercial centre for the north of China. In

the immediate vicinity of this place, and for miles in the interior,

were scattered hundreds of missionaries of different sects and

nationalities, the Americans forming a large majority.

To guard the interests of foreigners in general, and incidentally to

take advantage of such lessons as were to be learned from the war then

in progress, the several nations had assembled in the East as many

vessels as should best serve the interests involved.

Probably a combination of finer war-vessels, representing all types, has

seldom been seen than the international fleet of that winter. An

agreement had been entered into by the commanders-in-chief representing

Great Britain, Russia, France, Germany, and the United States, for the

protection of citizens. The best of feeling existed among the officers

and men, and all hands were keenly alert for such service that might be

required.

The trials of that winter were numerous; the weather was inclement,

provisions were scarce, and recreation!--there was none. Gale followed

gale with great frequency. Storm-tossed, the vessels rode at their

moorings with steam up, rigging and decks covered with snow, sides and

pipes covered with ice. Communication with the shore, except by signal,

was shut off for days at a time, and with these conditions obtaining,

the life on shipboard was not all that could be desired. The ice made

out from shore for nearly two miles, and some attempts to land proved

disastrous to the boats, with corresponding discomforts for the crews.

Occasionally the monotony for those on the _Charleston_ and _Yorktown_

was varied by being sent on hazardous trips to rescue missionaries, or

to watch the operations of the belligerents off Wei-hai-wei. For those

on the flag-ship, however, there was no such good fortune. We held the

end of the cable, directing the movements of the vessels of the

squadron, informing the Department of the progress of events, and

keeping a watchful eye over the small body of troops that had been

landed to prevent anticipated disorders among the Chinese, being also

prepared to throw ashore at any moment a large body of re-enforcements.

Watching had become wearisome, and many were the longings for the end to

come that a temporary respite might be ours. The doom of Wei-hai-wei was

sealed. Count Oyama with his perfectly appointed army, manoeuvred with

a master's hand, had captured the forts on the east and west sides; the

sledge-hammer blows struck by the ships of Admiral Ito had resulted in

mortal wounds, so that all that remained of the once magnificent

stronghold of Wei-hai-wei were the islands of Leu-kung, behind which the

remnant of the once vaunted Chinese fleet had sought refuge, and Channel

Island, with its still powerfully offensive battery.

The Chinese battle-ships _Ting-Yuen_ and _Chen-Yuen_ remained sullenly

defiant--a menace to the Japanese. It was not, therefore, the policy of

Admiral Ito to bring his lighter vessels within too close quarters of

solid fortifications and ironclads. The Chinese could not escape; why,

then, risk the lighter ships when a little patient waiting would produce

the desired result? The dashing torpedo-boat attacks of the Japanese on

the nights of February 4th and 5th had brought havoc and destruction to

the Chinese fleet, sinking four of their ships, and giving the

much-overwrought nerves of the Celestials a bad shaking up.

Information came to the American commander-in-chief that it was probably

the intention of Admiral Ito to finish the work on February 7th.

In that latitude at that season of the year day is late in breaking, but

the date in question proved to be an ideal winter's day. Not even a

gentle breeze was blowing; the air was clear, crisp, and cold, with the

thermometer at 6° Fah., while the bay showed no movement of the closely

packed cakes of floating ice.

The harbor of Che-foo is such in name only; it consists of a small

indentation in the coast, with two small islands, on one of which is the

light-house, about four miles from shore; to the northward the anchorage

is limited by a narrow neck of land that rises to a bluff, the latter

facing the sea. Beyond the bluff and outside the harbor limits is a

half-moon bay, which on this occasion was filled with ice extending out

about two miles, and closely packed by the recent gales.

Shortly after eight o'clock on the morning of February 7th, from the

direction of Wei-hai-wei came the reverberations of heavy cannonading,

and the decks of the vessels at the Che-foo anchorage were soon peopled

with officers and men impatiently awaiting developments.

Within an hour unusual activity was observed among the Chinese soldiers

in the fort of Che-foo, and it was noted that the heavy Krupp guns had

been given extreme elevation.

Far to the southward appeared a speck on the water, and with glasses it

was soon made out to be a torpedo-boat under full steam coming toward

the port of Che-foo. It was seen that the boat was trimmed by the stern,

all the crew being on deck aft, the better to immerse the screw. From

the stream of smoke that piled from the pipe it was evident that the

little craft was being urged to its utmost speed. Owing to the fact that

the torpedo-boats of both belligerents were painted a neutral color, it

was not easy to decide upon the nationality of the stranger, for

naturally no flag was displayed. Following at a distance of about half a

mile came a second boat, but as no firing was going on, it was concluded

they were friends. The mystery was soon explained by the appearance,

further out at sea, of two Japanese cruisers--the _Yoshino_, the

speediest and handsomest ship of their navy, and the _Tachachiho_, the

prototype of our _Charleston_. It could be seen that they were in

pursuit of the two torpedo-boats. Their sharp prows were cutting the

water like knives, and through the glass the officers and crew could be

observed anxiously watching the chase.

There is something in a race, be it great or small, that stirs the blood

of every man, and when the race is one for life and liberty the interest

becomes more intense, particularly if the observer's safety is not

involved.

The scene was one never to be forgotten. The day was all that could be

desired for speeding a torpedo-boat; not a ripple to mar progress;

outside the islands the sea was clear of ice, while the cold crisp air

was most favorable for the draught.

With the approach of the vessels grew the excitement of the observers;

the cold was forgotten, gloves and coats were thrown aside, and officers

and men mounted the icy rigging the better to view the chase. Those that

were fortunate enough to possess glasses reported incidents that could

not be seen by the less fortunate. Admiral and staff, officers and men,

elbowed one another, forgetful of all but the excitement of the moment.

Each little gain or loss was carefully noted, and brought forth

breathless remarks from the interested spectators. Some of the crew,

more sharp-sighted than the others, reported the progress of the race,

and as the cruisers closed more and more upon the torpedo-boats the

excitement grew intense. "Now the big ones gaining!" "No, the little

one's holding her own!" etc. Gruff observations of this sort were heard

on every side.

The little torpedo-boats were game, and fought on manfully, one might

say, foot by foot.

From the pipes of pursuer and pursued poured forth columns of smoke that

trailed behind like dense black streamers, seemingly to portend the

tragedy that was to follow; while, as if by contrast, the water parted

by the rapidly speeding vessels broke in waves that glistened and

scintillated in the sunlight in spectacular magnificence.

It was estimated that the _Yoshino_ was making nineteen knots and over,

and it was evident that a heavy forced draught was being carried. The

first torpedo-boat was holding its own, or doing a trifle better, but

the second and smaller of the two was slowly but surely losing distance.

One was strangely reminded of the coursing of hares by large and

powerful hounds, only in this case the lives of human beings were

involved, and the chances for the torpedo-boats, if caught, were about

equal to those of the hares under like conditions. Whatever may have

been the unofficial sympathies of the on-lookers in regard to the war

then going on, it seemed to be the universal wish that "the little

fellows" might escape.

For a moment, off the harbor, the course of the leading boat deviated,

as if to take refuge behind the shipping. That moment was the signal for

unusual activity for the vessels at anchor; capstans were started and

preparations made for a hurried departure, for had the Chinese boats

entered they would have been followed by the cruisers, and it would have

required lively work on the part of the neutrals to get out of range.

[Illustration: THE RACE WAS OVER.]

The Chinese Lieutenant who commanded the torpedo-boat evidently

concluded not to be a disturbing element to the fleet at anchor; the

course was renewed, and, rounding the bluff, an attempt was made to

reach the shore by ramming the ice. The floe was found to be too heavy

for the light craft, so, skirting the edge of the ice, the boat stranded

in shoal water; the occupants made a hurried exit and took to the woods.

The second boat likewise tried the ice, but finding that no impression

could be made thereon, sought to escape, as its principal had done, by

skirting the pack until shoal water could be reached. But there was no

time; the _Yoshino_ was too close, and that powerful vessel ploughed

through the ice at a tremendous rate of speed. When the nearest point to

the runaway was reached, we heard the ugly quick bark of the _Yoshino_'s

three-pounders, and the race was over. With a mighty roar the

safety-valves of the big cruiser were lifted, and for security the

vessel headed seaward. There was no time to lower boats; the water was

intensely cold, and it was never learned that any of the crew of the

riddled boat escaped. The guns of the _Yoshino_ sang the only requiem

over the watery graves of those that went down with their ship.

The stranded boat was hauled off the next day by boats from the

_Tachachiho_, and was taken to the Japanese navy-yard at Yekesuka.

Several months later this trophy of the war was shown to the writer by a

Japanese naval officer, the latter little suspecting that his visitor

had witnessed the interesting episode of its capture on that eventful

winter's morning in the Yellow Sea.

[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]

The great development of various kinds of athletics within recent years

has been to the detriment of certain kinds of sport that men and boys

ten years ago or more used to devote more time to. Nowadays there are so

many who wish to go into athletics that the popular games are those in

which the greatest number of contestants may take part. It is probably

for this reason that we see so much attention given to track athletics,

even as a winter in-door sport, to the subordination of almost all other

games.

Before these events became popular American men and boys, as English men

and boys had done for years before them, especially those who lived in

the country, used to devote more of their time to the simpler branches

of sport, one of which is wrestling. But as only two men may take part

in one wrestling bout, while the rest must stand around and look on,

this sport has more or less fallen from popularity. Nevertheless, like

boxing, it is one of the best kinds of exercises, and will do more

toward building up a strong constitution and developing a deep chest,

broad shoulders, and strong arms, than any other kind of exercise.

Wrestling is one of the oldest sports of the world, and doubtless came

into being as early as foot-racing. It is probably because of its age,

simplicity of equipment, and natural use of strength that it has failed

to receive the consideration given to other and more elaborate games of

skill. Fortunately, however, there has always been a number of

enthusiasts the world over who have kept awake the interest in

wrestling, and by their enthusiasm have steadily advanced its standard

of skill.

It is very probable that if wrestling had required intricate machinery

for its expansion and a broad outlay of paraphernalia it would long

since have become as generally popular as those games which hold places

of favor to-day. In America there are three distinctive styles of

wrestling--Catch-as-catch-can, Græco-Roman, and Collar-and-elbow. There

seems to be no doubt that catch-as-catch-can is the style that has

to-day reached the highest development. It certainly is second to none

as a means of exercise, and is superior to most as a means of defence.

In the first place, it is the most natural style of wrestling and of

using one's strength, because it allows of any hold, and the contestants

are at liberty to exercise all means at their power, as the name

indicates, to bring down the opponent--methods that a man must adopt

when the struggle is in earnest. Abroad, I believe, no hold lower than

the waist is permitted, but here in amateur contests one may catch

wherever he can, the only restrictions being what are technically known

as the full nelson and the strangle hold. To the average man who has

taken up the sport of wrestling, the idea of developing his body has

been the first, the idea of using his skill for personal defence is

naturally secondary. But, as a matter of fact, wrestling is one of the

best of the defensive arts, and has proved serviceable in a number of

critical occasions.

In cases of emergency, speaking now of self-defence, a number of holds

which would not be considered proper in sport may very well be used to

protect one against an attack. And especially if a knowledge of

wrestling is added to a slight familiarity with boxing, the combination

of the two arts makes a man a very formidable opponent. It should always

be remembered by those who go into the development of these athletic

arts that whenever it becomes necessary to use them in self-defence the

style will be found to be very different on the highway from what it is

in the gymnasium.

No matter how good a boxer a man may be, if it ever becomes necessary

for him to defend himself with his fists, the boxing will soon

degenerate into a rough-and-tumble fight; and here is where the science

of wrestling becomes most important. But all this is merely incidental

to the benefits of exercise to be derived from the sport, and I have

only mentioned these possibilities to show that there is an advantage to

be gained beyond the mere increase of muscle and agility.

As an exercise, as a tissue-making, blood-stirring sport, there is

nothing in-doors to equal wrestling. It stretches every muscle, it

expands the chest, strengthens the legs and arms, and gives coolness,

determination, and quickness. The qualities necessary in football, those

qualities which make the game such an excellent developer of the human

body, are the same essentials to the successful wrestler. Furthermore,

there is no game of skill to which the adage that "practice makes

perfect" may more justly be applied than to wrestling.

Any one who has not had practical experience in the matter can have no

idea of the immense advantage that trained skill has over mere brute

strength. Of course one cannot expect any man or boy, be he ever so

skilful, to put on his back an opponent weighing a hundred pounds more

than himself, yet it is surprising to see what weight and strength may

be defeated by skill and quickness. To become an expert, one ought to

begin to learn the elements of wrestling at an early age, say at sixteen

or seventeen, and it is important to have a well-trained, careful

instructor.

Wrestling is by no means an easy game, and a great deal of harm may be

done to growing boys if their work is not supervised by a teacher who

combines with his technical instruction an intelligent appreciation of

his pupil's physique. On the other hand, no exercise, when carefully

conducted, is better calculated to build up and fill out a frail

physical structure. It is not well, after one has learned the rudiments

of this sport, to wrestle always with the same man, for this will surely

limit the novice's range of action.

Two men, too, who wrestle continually with each other become so familiar

with their capabilities that they derive little advantage from the

practice, since the secret of success in wrestling is to keep the

opponent busy wondering what you are going to do next, and to deceive

him as to your own intentions as much as possible. This of course is

impossible when every move of your opponent's body has become familiar

to you by months of practice with him. Many advise beginners to drop on

all-fours at the earliest possible opportunity in a wrestling-match, but

I do not believe that this is the best principle for young men, whose

muscles are not yet trained to sustain such severe work.

It is well to learn to do as much wrestling as possible standing on the

two feet, and never to go down unless some decided advantage is to be

gained by so doing. The advantages of doing the work on the feet are

twofold. In the first place, it is a wonderful developer of strength,

and gives great steadiness to the body; in the second place, it is of

the most practical benefit. For instance, if you are called upon to put

your knowledge of wrestling into service against an attack, you would

find the ability to stand upon your feet of inestimable value; whereas,

if you have trained yourself to do your best work by lying down, the

chances in a rough-and-tumble scramble would doubtless be against you.

It is true, nevertheless, that the majority of the wrestlers of the

present day, as soon as time is called by the umpire, begin to dance

about as if the floor burned their feet, and then attempt to secure a

wrist hold, following this immediately by falling to the floor.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--TRYING FOR A HOLD.]

The man who wishes to do his wrestling on his feet should try to get a

head hold (Fig. 1), and then make an effort to back-heel his man, which

is done by jerking him forward, and as he steps in with his right leg,

to put your left leg behind it on the outside and bend him over

backwards. If you are strong enough, or have the slightest skill at

this, your opponent is bound to go over. A still better hold perhaps for

this back-heeling, but a more difficult one to secure, is an under-body

hold, and then if you are successful and active you are certain to throw

your man.

Two other very valuable, probably the most valuable, holds to be secured

in wrestling on your feet are the buttock and the cross-buttock. They

are both hard to get on a good man, and require the utmost skill in

execution, for they are not to be bungled. For the cross-buttock hold,

turning your left side to your opponent, get your hip partially

underneath and in front of him, and then, with your arms held tightly

around his neck and shoulder, quickly cross both his legs by your left,

and lift him and bring him down; you will also go, but you will go down

on top.

The buttock hold is a more difficult matter, but probably the most

serviceable one for self-defence in an unsought contest. It is begun

very much like the cross-buttock, except that you get your hip further

under your opponent, and then bending over, with a powerful jerk on your

arm about his neck, you shoot him into the air and over your back. It

requires quickness and some strength.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--ON HANDS AND KNEES.--A SAFE POSITION.]

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--TRYING FOR FARTHER ARM AND NEAR LEG.]

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--TRYING FOR HALF-NELSON.]

There are of course a number of emergencies in which it is best to drop

to the floor, and in this case the first principle that should always

be observed is to keep your arms spread well apart (Fig. 2), in order to

prevent your opponent from getting a farther arm and leg hold (Fig. 3).

The next thing to do--or really it should be the first--is to keep the

opponent from securing the half-nelson and back-hammer, as the top man

is shown to be doing in Fig. 4. A hold of this kind means a certain

fall.

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--HALF-NELSON.--NO HELP FOR HIM.]

Another important principle to observe is to keep the head well back, so

that in case you are called on to spin out of a quarter or a half-nelson

you will be able to bridge. One of the most eagerly sought-for holds

among wrestlers is the half-nelson (Fig. 5); when this is secured, the

lucky man rises to his feet, and stepping forward, falls on his

prostrate opponent to keep him from forming a bridge.

The principal thing to keep in mind in wrestling is always to watch for

an opening. Practice will soon teach you to guess your opponent's

intentions by his movements. Always seek an opportunity to get away, for

you are at a disadvantage when underneath. These are but a few

suggestions toward this most interesting and valuable sport, for any

amount of description might be written about the many holds and tricks

of the game. The real knowledge of them is only to be obtained from

practice, and the man who wishes to become a skilful wrestler must work

daily and conscientiously in the gymnasium, and he will be surprised to

see how very soon he will obtain a certain skill, quickness, and

proficiency of which he had never even dreamed himself capable.

"TRACK ATHLETICS IN DETAIL."--ILLUSTRATED.--8VO, CLOTH, ORNAMENTAL,

$1.25.

THE GRADUATE.

* * * * *

THE KEY TO AN ASTRONOMICAL PUZZLE.

The "Man in the _Moon_." A certain fair _Virgin_ (sixth sign of zodiac).

Asked her _Mar's_ permission. The bridemaids, _Berenice_ (Berenice's

Hair, Northern constellation) and _Andromeda_ (Northern constellation).

For groomsmen, _Castor_ and _Pollux_ (third sign of zodiac). The bride

sat in _Cassiopeia's_ chair (Northern constellation). On the menu,

deviled _Crab_ (fourth sign of zodiac), _Fishes_ (_Pisces_, twelfth sign

of zodiac). Water-carrier, _Aquarius_ (eleventh sign of zodiac). Had a

game of _Fox and Geese_ (Northern constellation). The bride played

_Lyra_ (the harp, Northern constellation). Harnessed _Pegasus_ to

_Charles's Wain_ (in Ursa Major), and set off on the route known as the

"Milky Way," in search of the lost _Pleiad_. Drink from the little and

the big _Dipper_. Barked at by the great _Dog_ (Canis Major, Southern

constellation). Butted by a vicious _Ram_ (first sign of zodiac). Chased

by a _Bull_ (Taurus, second sign of zodiac). Met by a roaring _Lion_

(Leo, fifth sign of zodiac). Being a fine _Archer_ (Sagittarius), slew

him with an _Arrow_ (Sagitta, Northern constellation). Encountered a

great grizzly _Bear_ (Ursa Major) and a little one (Ursa Minor). The tip

of his tail, the north star. Reached the north pole. Bears the dancers.

The trail of the _Serpent_ (Northern constellation). Eccentric as a

_comet_. Flying off in a _tangent_. Borrowed _Light_ (Old Sol). Weighed

in _Balance_ (seventh sign of zodiac). The most beautiful of the

planets, _Venus_. Totally Eclipsed. Morning and evening _Star_. Labors

of _Hercules_ (Northern constellation). Overdose of _Mercury_.

_Scorpion_ (eighth sign of zodiac). Fate of Egyptian queen Cleopatra.

* * * * *

WELLINGTON'S REASONING.

A good story is told of the Duke of Wellington while out fox-hunting. It

seems the hounds had reached the bank of a small river, and the master

galloped up saying,

"The dogs can't pick up the scent, your Grace."

"The fox has crossed to the other side," cried the Duke.

"Not very likely, my Lord. A fox hates water."

"Aye, aye, but he's crossed over some bridge."

"I don't believe there is a bridge," answered the master.

"Well," continued the Duke, "though I was never here before, I am sure

you will find one within a mile."

Followed by the hunt they pushed on, and less than a mile off came upon

a rudely constructed bridge. The dogs crossed it, again took up the

scent, and killed the fox. Asked for his reason for asserting that there

was a bridge near, the Duke said: "I saw three or four cottages

clustered together on each bank of the river, and I thought the people

living in them would be tempted by their social feelings to contrive a

means of visiting each other. That same inference of mine gained me one

of my battles."

* * * * *

A GRATEFUL TENANT.

Mr. Ford has some houses in Brooklyn, one of which he rented to Mr.

Stone, a mason. For three months Mr. Ford failed to collect the rent,

and at last resolved to send Mr. Stone adrift.

"But if I am put out, Mr. Ford," said Stone, "I can't move my duds. I

have no money."

Mr. Ford, being tender-hearted, gave him two dollars, and Stone moved

out. Shortly afterward Mr. Ford appointed an agent to attend to his

rents. Everything went right until one day Mr. Ford found that the rent

of a certain house remain unpaid.

"The tenant's all right, sir," said the agent. "He's a good man of the

name of Stone, a mason, and he'll pay in a day or two."

The owner called upon the backward tenant, and found that he was the

same Stone whom he had evicted some months before.

"How is it you're back here again?"' said Mr. Ford.

"Really," said Stone, "I couldn't think of patronizing another landlord,

Mr. Ford. You had been kind to me and I felt grateful."

* * * * *

A GOOD REASON.

"I am glad Willie," said the teacher, with a severe glance at Charlie,

who is slangy, "that _you_ never use that horrid word nit."

"I guess not," said Willie, scornfully. "I leave nitting to the girls."

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[Illustration]

QUESTIONS FOR YOUNG MEN.

ON COURTESY TO WOMEN AND GIRLS.

Continuing our discussion on women and girls, there is still more to be

said than can even be suggested here in this short space. It is not by

any means the intention of this Department to be prudish and priggish.

Nor is it the intention to lay down herein laws that cannot be easily

followed in every-day life. The idea is merely to point out familiar

ideas, which often lose their efficacy because of the carelessness of

the individual. In fact, many a boy would deny that he ever broke one of

these simple and well-known laws of courtesy, and yet he probably does

break many of them day after day.

These are the days when girls and women not only ride bicycles, not only

take care of themselves in pleasure and amusement, but go regularly to

their work in almost as large numbers as men. Many a girl goes about

town or city night and day to and from her work; many a girl enters

different branches of athletics hitherto only supposed to be open to

men; and, indeed, men are constantly finding themselves in woman's

society in business as well as in pleasure.

Some boys, and unfortunately a great many men, feel that, far from

forcing them to behave towards women at all times as they have been in

the habit of doing when they were in evening dress, this gradual change,

this habit of seeing women more frequently and under all sorts of

conditions, is taking off the restraint they have felt in their

presence, and bringing them down to their level. If the boys would only

think of the matter more or less seriously, they would soon find that as

one boy treats another, so he will be judged by the general audience.

How much more is this true in a boy's treatment of girls, whether they

be known to him or not! Certain laws in this world are very binding, and

it is useless to try to break them. You cannot put two stones in exactly

the same place. No one ever ate his cake and had it too. And no boy who

has not a distinct appreciation of the courtesy due from every man to

every woman can have a thorough respect for himself. One is just as

impossible as are the others.

If you have any ambition to bear yourself well, to succeed in life in

all ways as well as in the financial way, which is commonly understood

when "success" is mentioned, you must become aware of the fact that you

cannot live any kind of life you may like for years and still have the

highest character. It is the little incidents from day to day which make

a man's character, and perhaps the strongest of all these little

incidents are those which concern the treatment of women and girls by

men and boys. The habit of being constantly with women sometimes

cultivates the habit of paying little attention to them, of not

recollecting that they are to be treated with never-failing courtesy.

This is but a step in the direction leading to such incidents as one

sees in Europe, where young brothers sit about the house in their

uniforms paid for by their sisters' sewing or teaching, and let these

same sisters bring their shoes, or coats, or glasses of water, and what

not. When we go to Germany and see this sort of thing, we acquire a

contempt for the men of that race. They do not begin to equal the vigor,

the manliness, the civilization, of our American men. And yet we must

not behold the mote in our brother's eye unless we consider the beam in

our own. We must not criticise others unless we can at least say that

our own men have a clear idea of their proper course in such a matter.

Furthermore, when you are dealing with the other sex it is wise to bear

in mind that as you treat them, so are you building up character in

yourself. If you do not bear in mind the courtesies of all kinds which

are woman's due, you cannot retain for any length of time a pride in

yourself, a satisfaction with your behavior, which is commonly called

self-respect; and without self-respect you will have a hard time of it

in the world.

In other words, the higher the pedestal on which you place all women,

both of your acquaintance and not of your acquaintance, the higher you

are putting yourself, the better your standards will be, and the better

man you will make yourself.

* * * * *

AN UNFAIR DIVISION.

Many old residents of New York will remember Hank Miller, sometimes

called the "Omnibus King." Quiet, good-natured, and full of fun, he

enjoyed a patronage which eventually netted him a neat income. One

evening Hank was making his rounds of the stable, as was his wont, when

he overheard the chink of money and a subdued muttering. Glancing over a

stall, he discovered one of his drivers counting his fares as follows:

"That's two shillun' for Hank, and two for me," laying the shillings in

two piles. He kept on dividing his fares, until he came to the last

piece of money, an odd shilling.

"There," said he, "that's too bad to come out uneven, 'cause I wants to

be square and go halves with Hank. Let me see, shall I throw this in his

pile? No, I'll toss it up; heads for me and tails for Hank," and he spun

it up in the air. "Tails it is!" he cried as it fell. "Well, that's

Hank's, I suppose," but he hesitated. "No, I guess I'll toss again."

This time it fell down heads. "Ah, I knew that first toss wasn't fair!"

and having divided the money to his satisfaction, he slipped away

without knowing that Hank had been watching him.

Hank gained his office before the thieving driver arrived to leave his

fares. "Good-evening, Jack," said he, as the man entered. "Luck good

to-day?"

"Rather poor, Mr. Miller," and he laid the money on the desk.

"Well, Jack, I guess we can dispense with your services from now on."

"Eh! How's that? What have I done?" cried the astonished Jack.

Hank gave a quiet smile, and then, looking the man in the eye, said:

"You see, Jack, you didn't treat me fair. By rights, I should have had

another chance at that odd shilling."

* * * * *

NOT IN THE DICTIONARY.

TEACHER. "What word are you looking for, Brown?"

THAD BROWN. "Why, teacher, you wanted to know what a woman would be

called who performed a brave act. Now, a man who acts bravely is a hero,

but I can't find the word for a brave woman."

TEACHER. "What is the word?"

THAD. "Shero; but it's not in this dictionary."

* * * * *

NEW YORK'S GREAT PARK.

An Englishman was showing his friend, an American, through the houses of

Parliament, in London, the meanwhile commenting in a somewhat arrogant

manner upon what he was pleased to term the superiority of the English

public buildings and parks.

"There," he exclaimed, "is our magnificent Thames Embankment, a

delightful spot! Why, you have nothing in your country to compare with

it, especially in that great New York city; then again, every gentleman

owns an estate, and, let me assure you, sir, such estates are no small

bits of property."

This went on for a considerable time, until the American, growing tired,

said, "But, Lord de T., you have travelled in our country, have you

not?"

"Oh, yes, my dear sir; right across it."

"Well, then, you should have a fair idea of its size."

"Very big place, sir, very big."

"And you know New-York city quite well, eh?"

"Oh, yes--yes indeed."

"Well, then, you see, we didn't want anything in the line of parks in

New York, with, of course, the exception of a few squares; but outside

of the city we wanted a park, and so we decided to use the United States

as a park for New York city."

"Dear me, how extravagant."

"Not at all, sir; why, we even contemplated floating the British Isles

over and anchoring them a short distance outside the city's harbor as a

sort of breakwater, you know."

[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.

How many stamps make a good collection? I am frequently asked this

question by readers of the ROUND TABLE, and find it a very hard one to

answer. For instance, on one day I saw a collection of over 2000 stamps,

and had to say it was a very poor collection. There were a few scarce

stamps, but every common stamp, every "Seebeck" stamp, and all the

cut-square envelopes and post-cards went to make up the quantity. On the

other hand, it was my good fortune to see a little book about 6 by 4

inches in size, with some 30 or 40 leaves. This was a selection made up

from one of our great collectors' albums for exhibition in the coming

London stamp show. This little book, which could be slipped into any

pocket, contained 200 stamps, the catalogue value of which was $15,000.

Every stamp was in perfect condition--Hawaiian "missionary"; Cape of

Good Hope wood block, in blocks of two and four; Canada 12d.; first

series of British Guiana; first of Moldavia; shilling, Newfoundland,

Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, etc., in various shades; Brattleboro,

Baltimore, and other rare U.S. locals. In fact, to enumerate the stamps

would be to give a list of the great rarities. Such a collection is

hardly ever seen, and after exhibition the stamps will be restored to

their proper places in the regular albums.

The government does not seem to make much progress in the prosecution of

the parties who had in their possession fifty sets of the Periodical

stamps (from 1c. to $60), the face value of which was about $10,000.

These were hawked about in New York at $80 per set as genuine stamps.

The claim is now made in court that they were not originals, but proofs.

The leading dealers in New York declined to have anything to do with the

stamps when they were first offered, and their caution has been amply

justified.

A. LAMAREUX.--The so-called 25c. and 50c. gold pieces were never

made by the government. The bulk of them were manufactured by

jewellers, and, as a rule, they do not contain more than 25 per

cent. of their nominal value in gold. The manufacture of these

so-called coins is now illegal.

R. BULKLEY.--The difference between the 10c. U.S. brown of 1872,

unused, worth $1, and the one worth $10 is altogether in the paper.

In the one case the mesh is quite apparent when held up to the

light; in the other, the paper is harder and more compact. I assume

you are an expert, and know the differences in the papers used by

the different bank-note companies.

W. F. WEBB.--The U.S. 24c. of 1857, unused, is worth $5; the 12c.,

same issue, unused, $1.25. If used, about half as much. The $1

mortgage, unperforated, worth $1.

R. F. ANDERSON.--Packets of very common stamps (30 or 40 varieties)

can be had at 25c. per 1000. Cheap-priced packets will of course

contain cheap stamps only. "Correos y telegs" is Spanish,

indicating that the stamp can be used in payment of postage or for

telegrams. "Comunicaciones" is Spanish also.

C. W. W. and A. G. D.--The 1870 stamps were grilled. In 1872 the

same plates were used in the manufacture of the ungrilled stamps.

The grilled is worth 100 times as much as the ungrilled.

E. B. MAYO.--I am not a dealer. Apply to some regular dealer for

your wants.

J. WAXER.--The 2c. and 3c. U.S. coins are very common.

PHILATUS.

[Illustration: IVORY SOAP]

Reject all compounds which dispense

With honest work and common sense;

With Ivory Soap the wash is good

And takes no longer than it should.

Copyright 1896, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti

For Young Americans

* * * * *

GEORGE WASHINGTON

By WOODROW WILSON, Ph.D., LL.D. Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE, HARRY FENN,

and Others. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Deckel Edges and Gilt Top, $3.00.

NAVAL ACTIONS OF THE WAR OF 1812

By JAMES BARNES. With 21 Full-page Illustrations by CARLTON T. CHAPMAN,

printed in color, and 12 Reproductions of Medals. 8vo, Cloth,

Ornamental, Deckel Edges and Gilt Top, $4.50.

FOR KING OR COUNTRY

A Story of the American Revolution. By JAMES BARNES. Illustrated. Post

8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50.

* * * * *

By Charles Carleton Coffin

=THE BOYS OF '76.= A History of the Battles of the Revolution. Profusely

Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $2.00.

=OLD TIMES IN THE COLONIES.= Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,

$2.00.

=BUILDING THE NATION.= Events in the History of the United States from the

Revolution to the Civil War. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,

$2.00.

=THE DRUM-BEAT OF THE NATION.= The First Period of the War of the

Rebellion, from its Outbreak to the Close of 1862. Profusely

Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $2.00.

=ABRAHAM LINCOLN.= Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $2.00.

=MARCHING TO VICTORY.= The Second Period of the War of the Rebellion,

including the Year 1863. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,

$3.00.

=REDEEMING THE REPUBLIC.= The Third Period of the War of the Rebellion, to

September, 1864. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, $2.00.

=FREEDOM TRIUMPHANT.= The Fourth Period of the War of the Rebellion, from

September, 1864, to its Close. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,

$2.00.

* * * * *

By Kirk Munroe

=RICK DALE.= A Story of the Northwest Coast. Illustrated by W. A. ROGERS.

Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

=SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.= A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."--THE

FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH.--RAFTMATES.--CANOEMATES.--CAMPMATES.--DORYMATES.

Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25 each. The Four "Mates" Volumes

in a Box, $5.00.

=WAKULLA.--FLAMINGO FEATHER.--DERRICK STERLING.--CHRYSTAL, JACK &

CO., and DELTA BIXBY.= Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental,

$1.00 each.

* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York

A Good Entertainment Programme.

An admirable up-to-date entertainment may be arranged under the

title "The Ideals of the Twentieth Century," where short, breezy

dissertations, orations, and essays on the ideal "Church," "Stage,"

"Public School," "International Peace," and for a humorous

selection "The Ideal Parent," may be rendered. And "What Science

may accomplish in the Twentieth Century" should by all means be

included in the list. By way of recitation, Lowell's exquisite "To

the Future," and Saxe's travesty "Pyramus and Thisbe," are well

adapted. The latter might be called "An Incident of Twenty

Centuries Ago." With two or three musical selections your programme

is complete.

VINCENT V. M. BEEDE.

* * * * *

Selling Stamping Designs.

May I ask your aid and advice in regard to some doily patterns

which I have designed? I enclose four designs. I would like to sell

them, and would like to have you tell me in what way designs are

prepared for sale. I mean especially for stamping outfit companies.

Am I right in thinking they are to be made on Bristol-board in

India-ink? Do such designs have to be made the same size that the

stamping pattern is to be when finished? Will you not give me some

idea of the prices paid for designs? When designs are sold, does

the designer set the price, or is it left to the purchaser? Which

of the designs should you call the best? I have never taken a

lesson in drawing, or had any instructions of any sort, and have

not even a pair of compasses to help me.

ALICE L. BROWN, R.T.L.

PUTNEY.

Designs for stamping should be drawn in India-ink on Bristol-board or

good drawing-paper. They must be made full working size. It is

impossible to give prices--they can best be ascertained from the dealers

themselves. Naturally the purchaser sets the price, unless the designer

is one of established reputation who can fix her own. The design marked

No. 1. is considered best by the Art Department--next in order the one

marked No. 2. The Society of Decorative Art, 14 East Thirty-fourth

Street, New York city, receive and pay for designs. Bently and Jones,

204 Greene Street, are wholesale manufacturers of stamped embroidery

designs.

* * * * *

A Good Description of Mardi-gras.

In the winter, just before Lent, occurs the event that draws more

people here than anything else. That event is Mardi-gras. Then the

city puts on a festive air, the merchants decorate their stores

with the royal colors--purple, green, and yellow--and every one

prepares to receive his Majesty Rex, who reigns supreme for the

short time he is here. A large fleet goes down the river to meet

the royal yacht, and when the King and his suite land at the foot

of Canal Street they are met by the Mayor, the city officials, the

city, State, and visiting militia, and are escorted to the City

Hall, where the keys of the city are delivered to him. Numerous

secret societies made up of society men give balls and processions

at this time. Prominent among them are the Krewe of Comus, Krewe of

Proteus, and others.

Rex arrives Monday, and Tuesday is Mardi-gras day. Then the fun

commences. All the small boys and girls in town, and some large

ones, dress up in fantastic costumes and masks, and the streets are

filled with the "Mardi-gras's," as they call them. Last year and

the year before there was a band of Indians--about fifty; the

costumes were splendid, and when they came whooping up the street

they seemed quite like the real article. At about eleven o'clock

Rex's parade makes its appearance, and passes along the principal

streets. Such crowds you seldom see; the street is a solid mass of

people as far as the eye can reach. Every one, young and old, big

and small, white and black, turns out to see his august Majesty

Rex. The mounted police force a way through the people for the

parade to pass. In front of the Boston Club the parade stops, and

the King presents the young lady who is to be Queen with a

beautiful bunch of flowers, and drinks her health, and that of her

maids of honor. While the procession is passing, the maskers on the

different floats throw handful after handful of candy to the people

that line the windows and galleries on each side of the street. The

parade is past at last, and everybody begins to think about getting

home, and ready for the one in the evening and the two balls.

The evening parade of Krewe of Proteus is always beautiful, and so

is the ball that follows. Rex has his ball also in the evening. The

first three dances at the ball are reserved for the maskers, who

have for their partners young ladies out of the audience. These are

informed by note beforehand, so they are always prepared. They

never know who they dance with, unless it be a case of husband and

wife. After three dances the dancing becomes general, and the

maskers slip out, and come back in regulation evening dress, that

you do not notice the change. These balls are beautiful sights--the

maskers in their rich costumes, and the ladies in handsome evening

dresses.

The balls are held in the French Opera-House, an immense building,

which is always packed to its utmost capacity. Each king (and there

is one for every ball) chooses his queen from the society girls,

and she has three maids of honor. They are always dressed

gorgeously. The next morning it is all over until the next year,

and society settles down in sackcloth and ashes until Easter.

Thousands of dollars are spent every year on this event, but New

Orleans wouldn't be New Orleans without its Mardi-gras. Rex is

always a prominent man.

SOPHIE ELEANOR CLARK.

* * * * *

Amateur Journalism.

The following-named, interested to some extent in play-journalism,

desire to receive sample copies of papers from publishers of the same:

Walter C Garges, 102 Van Buren Street, Zanesville, Ohio, and Florence

Jennings, Box 67, Southport, Connecticut.

* * * * *

A Queer Tale.

S. K. Brown, Jun., living in a small Pennsylvania village, where there

is a famous Friend's school, sends to the ROUND TABLE a quotation from a

Philadelphia newspaper, and says he desires more information. The

quotation, in his words, is under the title of "The Floating Stone of

Corea," and runs:

"The stone is of great bulk, and shaped like an irregular cube. It

appears to be resting on the ground; but is free from support on any

side. If two men, standing on opposite sides of it, hold each the

opposite ends of a cord, they will be able to pass it under the stone

without encountering any obstacles."

We also should like more information. Can any one give it? There must be

an explanation, else we must for the first time doubt that the law of

gravitation is universal.

* * * * *

Good and Funny as a Game.

I have seen many games described in the ROUND TABLE, and I thought

I would write out one which is played here. It is called "Key." The

boys and girls are placed in two rows, and between them is seated

the one who holds the key. The latter selects some one to take the

key and give it to the one who has the longest hair, prettiest

teeth, nicest dress, or anything he or she chooses. If the one who

has to choose is a boy, he must choose a girl; if a girl, she must

choose a boy. The one selected then goes around, and so on. The

ones who have gone around then tell for what they chose the others.

This game is very good when played right--and funny.

NELLIE THOMPSON.

GOLCONDA.

* * * * *

Questions and Answers.

One of our questioners asks for an explanation of the treaty just signed

between this nation and Great Britain, and why Mr. Gladstone, Mr.

Cleveland, and so many others rejoice over it. We are exceedingly

pleased to reply to a questioner so keen and intelligent. Disputes are

likely at all times to arise between nations, as they are between

individuals. We have long since provided for the latter, not by urging

each disputant to fall to pummelling the other, but by judges and

jurors, who hear testimony and make decisions on them. The world is just

now entering upon that stage of progress when nations as well as

individuals no longer fall into wicked war, but have judges to hear and

determine for them. The treaty which you ask about provides that when,

during the next five years, any differences arise between the United

States and Great Britain, such disputes, with all the testimony on both

sides, shall be referred to six arbitrators, three to be named by each

side. If these six men fail to agree in their decision, they are to

select a seventh arbitrator. The latter may be any competent person. If

the seven fail to agree, the dispute is to be left to the wisdom of the

King of Sweden, whose decision shall be final. The treaty has been

signed by our Secretary of State and the British Minister. It is signed

in duplicate, one copy being for us, and the other to be sent to London.

It is not yet law, and may never become law. It is awaiting confirmation

by our Senate. If it is not confirmed, it is laid away in our State

Department along with many other unconfirmed treaties. The reason so

many rejoice over the event is because, as Mr. Gladstone says, "it is a

step of real progress." You live in a fortunate age, that sees a step so

important in the uplift of mankind.

E. A. W. asks, "Does the Department of Agriculture at Washington issue a

pamphlet for free distribution relating to the following things: Weather

reports and records, latitude of our different cities, and rules for

foretelling the weather?"

We think it does. Write the Department requesting a copy. You will get

in reply either the pamphlet or information where it can be had. "What

are the names of some of our largest war-ships?" The _Iowa_,

_Massachusetts_, and _Indiana_ are names of three battle-ships. Of large

cruisers there are the _Columbia_, _New York_, and _Minneapolis_. "What

are the requisites of pen-drawing for an amateur? What pens are used?"

Bristol-board; drawing-ink, to be had in twenty-five-cent bottles at

almost any bookseller's; and common fine-pointed steel pens.

J. G. B.: The annual wheat crop of the United States varies greatly.

Last year it was 500,000,000 bushels. It is much smaller than our corn

crop, which often reaches 1,600,000,000 bushels.--George E. Purdy, 66

Broadway, New York, asks if Carlos J. Neona, of Chicago, will send his

correct address to him.--Ernest Routlege questions the authority which

makes a Virginia plover to fly 225 miles an hour. Lord Bishop Stanley,

an excellent authority, says that the highest speed attained by any bird

is 180 miles an hour. This is the swift. The plover is a fast flier, and

he gives its speed at 160 miles. He also says that the measuring of bird

flight is quite difficult, and points out several erroneous calculations

on their speed made by people who sought to test it. Possibly our

correspondent, a lad, fell into one of these errors. The partridge

flies, according to Bishop Stanley, about sixty miles per hour, and the

eagle 140 miles. In Ireland, some years ago, a carrier-pigeon was known

to make 125 miles per hour. These are special records, so to say, for

the average speed of these birds is much slower. Stanley says that, in

proportion to size, the bee is a faster flier than a plover, and points

out how often we see bees and large flies fly along outside the window

of a rapid railway car, going zigzag, but keep up without difficulty,

and finally, perhaps, fly on ahead, only to return after a while for a

second sojourn by your window. He gives a rule for measuring the speed

of a bird's flight. If you see a bird rise from the ground, time it or

count seconds until you see it pass over a fence or hedge. Then pace the

distance from rising point to fence. Then you have a simple problem to

find its speed per hour at that particular time. Will some one give us a

morsel on this subject? It is very interesting.--Vincent V. M. Beede

asks: "Can some one tell me the present whereabouts of Greuze's

painting, 'The Little Dauphin,' and where a copy, in whatever form, can

be obtained?"

[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.

A SCRAP-BOOK FOR PHOTOGRAPHIC FORMULAS.

Every box of sensitive plates and every package of sensitive paper

contains a circular giving formulas for working, and besides the

formulas, there are hints on the causes of failures, and directions how

to avoid or amend them. The manufacturers of photographic goods issue

little pamphlets and booklets which may be had for the asking, and in

newspapers and magazines one is constantly coming across some new or

easier way of working in photography. If this material was collected as

it came to hand and placed in a scrap-book, one would soon have a

valuable book of information about the art of photography which would be

very helpful.

The editor of this column has a way of making scrap-books which she is

going to give for the benefit of the members of her Camera Club. Take

large sheets of Manila wrapping-paper and fold in book form to a booklet

about 8 by 10 in size. Use enough sheets of paper to make from sixteen

to thirty-two leaves. Sew it with stout thread, and put a loop of cord

or narrow ribbon at the top by which to hang it up. On the outside print

in large letters "Photo Formulas," then whenever you come across

anything which will be of help in photographic work, paste it in this

book. In pasting the scraps, attach them at the corners and one or two

spots near the centre or side. The book does not then become stiff, and

if at any time the scrap is wanted, it can be removed without injury to

the leaf.

If one choose to do so, the different formulas could be pasted in

different books, toning solution, developers, etc., each having a

separate book, the name being marked on the outside in large letters.

This method of making scrap-books is very convenient if one is studying

some special subject. Mark the subject on the cover of the book, and

when an item is found relating to it, paste it in the book. When the

cover becomes soiled or torn it can be removed and a fresh one put in

its place. The cost of half a dozen scrap-books will not exceed ten

cents, and being made to hang up, they are easy of access and are seldom

mislaid.

A member of the club, Charles M. Todd, has sent a very clever suggestion

for the benefit of the members of the club. He has a book which he calls

a Camera Club Index. In it he puts the title of everything printed in

the Camera Club column; then when he wishes to look up a subject, he

refers to his index, which tells him in which number of the ROUND TABLE

it may be found. This is a very helpful suggestion, and one which we are

sure will be of profit to our members.

FOSTER HARTWELL writes to the Camera Club that a good way to remove

the polish from a burnished print is to rub it with dry

pumice-stone, powdered and sifted. It gives a soft, pleasing finish

to the picture.

J. B. C. asks if a rectilinear lens can be fitted to a pocket kodak

and thus do away with the barrel-shaped lines in the picture.

J. B. C. would have the same trouble with a rectilinear lens as

with the single lens, unless the camera is provided with a swing

back. Hold the camera perfectly level, and the lines of the

building photographed will not converge or diverge. It would not

pay to have a tiny camera like the pocket kodak fitted with a

rectilinear lens.

CHARLES BOYDEN, JUN., asks if solio-paper and toning solution may

be bought at a photographer's. It is best to get your photographic

materials from a dealer in photographic supplies, not at a

photographer's, though a photographer would probably supply an

amateur with paper and toning solution as an accommodation.

ARTHUR S. DUDLEY asks what is the best developer for portraits, and

which for landscapes; if a combined or separate toning bath should

be used; how many times it is necessary to wash a toned print; and

a cheap way to get a gloss on a photograph. Use any good formula

for developer. Eikonogen and hydrochinon developer is a very

satisfactory developer. The separate bath is preferred by most

photographers. Wash prints for an hour in running water, or change

the water eight or ten times at intervals of five minutes. See No.

889, answer E. Magsameu for directions for burnishing.

ERNEST SALISBURY asks why pictures made on solio-paper and toned

with Eureka toning solution are of a light brown. The print sent in

letter looks as if it had not been left long enough in the toning

bath. The color of the print is the tone which it assumes when

first placed in the bath. Try toning the print longer; prints do

not tone as quickly in cold weather as they do in warm. If this

does not work, then the toning bath is at fault. The reason why the

sky is the same color as the rest of the picture is that, it being

a snow scene, the snow impressed its image on the plate as quickly

as the sky. The best time to make snow pictures is in the early

morning or late in the afternoon.

MURRAY MARBLE encloses a print of the Capitol at Washington, and

asks what causes the blur at the top of the picture. Judging from

the print, the blur is caused in the developing. The solution did

not cover the film when it was placed in it, and the place where

the blur appears is not sufficiently developed.

EVARTS A. GRAHAM asks what can be done with old plates; and wishes

a good formula for silver prints and sensitizing paper for silver

prints. See Nos. 857 and 886 for some uses for spoiled plates. See

Nos. 796 and 803 for directions for making plain silver prints.

JOHN F. REGAN wishes the copy of the constitution of some good

camera club. Will Arthur F. Atkinson, of Sacramento, Cal., please

send a copy of the Niepce Chapter's constitution to this member?

His address is 418 North Centre St., Terre Haute, Ind.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Postage Stamps, &c.

[Illustration]

60 dif. U.S. $1, 100 dif. Foreign 8c., 125 dif. Canadian, Natal, etc.

25c., 150 dif. Cape Verde, O. F. States, etc. 50c. Agents wanted. 50

p.c. com. List free. =F. W. Miller, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.=

[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

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500

Mixed, Australian, etc., 10c.; =105 var.= Zululand, etc., and album, 10c.;

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1000

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our stamp approval sheets; 50% com. and prize.

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[Illustration: PISO'S CURE FOR CONSUMPTION]

CURES WHERE ALL ELSE FAILS.

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in time. Sold by druggists.

Arnold

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_Applique and Lierre Laces._

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EARN A TRICYCLE.

[Illustration]

We wish to introduce our Teas. Sell 30 lbs. and we will give you a Fairy

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Gold Watch and Chain; 75 lbs. for a Bicycle; 10 lbs. for a Gold Ring.

Write for catalog and order sheet Dept. I

W. G. BAKER,

Springfield, Mass.

[Illustration]

$25.00 $15.00 $10.00

In Gold, will be paid to the three purchasers sending in the most

solutions of this novel Egg Puzzle. Interests and amuses young and old.

Requires patience & steady nerves. Send 15 cts. for Puzzle, (2 for 25

cts.) and learn how to secure a PRIZE.

Walter S. Coles, Neave Building, Cincinnati, Ohio.

HOOPING

COUGH

CROUP

Can be cured

by using

ROCHE'S HERBAL

EMBROCATION

The celebrated and effectual English cure, without internal medicine. W.

EDWARD & SON, Props., London, Eng. =All Druggists.=

E. FOUGERA & CO., NEW YORK

Mr. EDMUND GOSSE

the talented English essayist,

contributes a paper on

STANDARDS

IN MODERN

LITERATURE

to the next number of

HARPER'S ROUND TABLE

Five Cents a copy. Two Dollars a year.

* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS. Publishers, N. Y.

CARDS

FOR 1897. 50 Sample Styles AND LIST OF 400 PREMIUM ARTICLES FREE.

HAVERFIELD PUB CO., CADIZ, OHIO

[Illustration]

"Come, little boy," his grandma said,

"Upon this chair you'll sit,

And hold the worsted in your hands,

And help your grandma knit."

"Oh, yes," the little boy replied,

And smiled a little bit;

"There's nothing I like more to do

Than help my grandma,--nit!"

* * * * *

A CONCLUSION.

"My grandfather is ninety years old, and he hasn't got a gray hair on

his head," said Mollie.

"Mercy!" cried Bella. "He must be awful bald!"

* * * * *

A DELICIOUS IDEA.

Mr. Hawkins had just returned from the North, and had described some of

the ice-boating he had seen to Frankie.

"It must be fun!" said Frankie, enthusiastically.

"It is great fun," said his father.

"I say, daddy," said Frankie, "it's a pity the ocean never freezes,

isn't it? Wouldn't it be fine to put an ocean steamer on skates and see

it scoot over?"

* * * * *

NOT ENCOURAGED.

"I suppose you boys at school are playing games about all the time,

aren't you?" asked the visitor.

"Pretty nearly," replied Jack. "We know pretty nearly all of 'em."

"I suppose you are a champion?"

"I am at most of 'em. I don't get much chance at hookey, though," said

Jack.

* * * * *

A SMALL BOY'S REFLECTION.

"Didn't George Washington ever tell a lie, mamma?"

"They say not, my son."

"Don't they tell awful fibs about public men, mamma?"

* * * * *

THE TEST.

"Do you expect to go to college, Warren?"

"Yes, sir."

"And which one, my lad?"

"Well, I don't know yet. I think Yale; but before I'm ready to go,

Harvard may brace up and win something."

* * * * *

A PUZZLING TRANSACTION.

It happened in this wise: The two gentlemen were Irish, and, as every

one knows, the sons of that nationality are excitable. Up to a certain

time they had lived as peaceful neighbors should, but when Mr.

O'Farrel's cow had her career cut short in a summary fashion by being

smothered under a load of hay that lost its balance and toppled off from

Mr. McSway's wagon, why, it necessarily followed that the Celtic blood

warmed with anger in Mr. O'Farrel's veins, and, in no genial mood, he

sought his hitherto pleasant neighbor, and demanded compensation for the

loss.

"Sure, now, that is a sad misfortune," commented Mr. McSway; "and how

much do ye want me to pay for the cow?"

"Oi want tin dollars, and oi want it roight now."

"Faith, you're er bit loively, Mr. O'Farrel. But didn't oi understand

that yez sold the cow's hide an' tallow down ter the village? How much

did yez get for the baste?"

"Yis, oi did, an' oi got tin dollars an' fifty cints for it, Mr.

McSway."

"Well, then, accordin' to that, yez owe me fifty cints; so pay it

_roight now_, if you plaze, Mr. O'Farrel."

Probably it will not astonish the reader to know that before the excited

and very much muddled O'Farrel recovered himself he paid the fifty

cents; but even to this day he has failed to satisfy himself whether he

owed the money to McSway or not.

* * * * *

A LIKELY STATEMENT.

"I guess I know why they never speak of George Washington as Washington

the Great," observed Polly. "It's because there wasn't never any other

Washington to compare him with."

* * * * *

A RECORD.

"How are you doing in your athletics, Wilbur?"

"Pretty good. Went a hundred yards in seven seconds yesterday."

"What?"

"Truth--honest. On my sled."

* * * * *

A SMALL BOY'S NOTION.

I'm mighty glad I'm not a girl,

With all their folderols!

Just think--they cannot help 'emselves--

They can't _help_ liking dolls!

* * * * *

PHYSIOLOGY AND HYGIENE.

"We've got a new study in our school," said Harry. "It's called

fizzleology and--ah--fizzleology and--"

"Hygiene?" said his father, trying to help him along.

"That's it," said Harry. "Fizzleology and high-jinks."

* * * * *

NO DOUBT EARNED.

"I've been promoted," observed Bobbie Hicks, with a sly wink at his

chum. "I used to be Captain of our soldier company, but now I'm a

General."

"Indeed? And who promoted you?"

"The neighbors. They said I was getting to be a general nuisance."

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, February 23, 1897, by Various