## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Harper's Round Table, April 14, 1896

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Title: Harper's Round Table, April 14, 1896

Author: Various

Release date: March 17, 2018 [eBook #56766]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Annie R. McGuire

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, APRIL 14, 1896 ***

MOTHER-IN-LAW TO THE CREW.
RÖNTGEN RAYS.
AN "OLD-FIELD" SCHOOL-GIRL.
RICK DALE.
STORIES OF CONGO DISCOVERY.
THE BROKEN CHARGE.
THE VANISHED ISLAND.
A WIDE-AWAKE COLLECTOR.
FROM CHUM TO CHUM.
INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORTS.
STAMPS.
BICYCLING.
THE CAMERA CLUB.
THE PUDDING STICK.

[Pg 573]

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers. All Rights Reserved.

published weekly. | NEW YORK, TUESDAY, APRIL 14, 1896. | five cents a copy.
vol. xvii.—no. 859. |  | two dollars a year.

## MOTHER-IN-LAW TO THE CREW.

### ONE OF THE OLD SAILOR'S YARNS.

### BY W. J. HENDERSON.

It was a beautiful summer morning. There was a light wind from the southwest, which just tempered to a degree of endurance the blazing heat of the full-orbed sun. A few wisps of feathery white lay slantwise across the broad field of deep-toned blue sky, promising a change of weather within a day's time. The sea was a vast undulating mirror of blue, as if all the sapphires in the world and in all the other worlds had been melted and poured into earth's majestic basin. From the rounded slopes of the broad low swells the rays of the sun danced in a million flashes of dazzling silver. The swells themselves ran in slow, sinuous folds to the inner bar, where they reared themselves in curving walls of translucent green shot with bars of snow, and then with the burst of far-off thunder fell forward into spurting, writhing acres of yeasty foam. Softness, warmth, and languorous sparkle lay over the sea.

Far away upon the uncertain horizon loomed the black hull of an ocean liner, cleaving her way across the polished path at twenty knots an hour, to make a new record, homeward bound. The tense cordage of her rigging, the strained squareness of her tapering yards, the horizontal backward rush of the torrents of smoke from her yawning funnels gave her the appearance of a true greyhound, with every nerve and muscle strained in the effort at speed. Nearer the land three schooners, two loaded to their scuppers, and one flying light, so that she seemed to sail on her keel, were making a long leg to the southward, close-hauled on the starboard tack. Further in yet a score of tiny sea skiffs rose and fell on the bosom of the deep, and now and then the glitter of sunlight on the scales of a captured fish could be seen.

Henry Hovey and his little brother George—who was not so little as he used to be—were walking along the ocean road. Often and often they had gone down to the old wooden pier, and sighed much because it no longer held their interesting friend, the Old Sailor. They had met other sailors, but none of them could tell tales of the sea; and, worse than that, none of them knew anything about the wonderful places the Old Sailor had seen. So Henry and George contented themselves with telling the old tales[Pg 574] over, and speculating on the causes of the remarkable events related therein. On this beautiful summer day they unconsciously wandered down to the pier, and to their surprise there was a man sitting on the end of it. He looked so much like their old friend that they both stopped short and gasped. Then they shook their heads sadly and walked slowly out on the pier. As they drew near the man they saw that his shoulders were shaking with laughter. George gripped Henry's arm and said, "Is it a dream?"

"I don't know," answered Henry, in a whisper. "I'm afraid—"

"W'ich the same it are not!" cried a voice they well knew; and the next instant there was the Old Sailor himself, half laughing and half crying, dancing on one foot and holding each of the breathless boys by a hand. "It are not no dream," continued the Old Sailor; "'cos w'y, dreams goes by contraries, an' this are the werry identical sailor wot it used to be, an' not no contrary wotsomever."

"Oh! when did you come?" cried George.

"Jes now."

"What?"

"Jes now. I jes come ashore. I were a-sittin' on this 'ere werry identical pier a-lookin' fur my trunk."

The two boys gazed at their old friend in silent wonder, for they were sure that behind that trunk there lay some mystery.

"Where is it?" asked Henry at length.

"Down there," answered the Old Sailor, pointing at the water. "Under hatches, stove in an' sunk. I wouldn't 'a' parted with that trunk fur a good hogshead o' baccy. 'Cos w'y; I got that there trunk in Noo Yawk the day I shipped, an' I had her loaded right to her hatches with things to bring home to ye. Howsumever, it were drownin' or losin' 'em, an' so me an' the trunk got ashore—leastways I did; an' that's wot."

With these words the Old Sailor once more sat down on the end of the pier, and the boys sat beside him. He sent one of his long searching glances around the horizon, indulged in one of his peculiar silent laughs, and then suddenly said,

"S'pose I was to go fur to ask ye wot kind o' wessel are that out yonder?"

"It's an ocean liner," answered Henry.

"An' s'posin' I was to say wot are them three yonder?"

"Schooners," said George, "under all plain sail, close-hauled on the starboard tack."

"My son," said the Old Sailor, solemnly, "you are growin' werry salt. An' s'posin' I were to ask ye wot are that high-sided one loaded with?"

"Nothin'," said Henry. "She's flying light."

"Werry good too. An' may I be run down an' sunk by a bar'l o' your mother's hot biscuit ef this here warn't the werry identical way wot it happened. I shipped in St. Thomas as second mate onto the four-masted schooner Raw Tomatters. She were bound fur Noo Yawk with an assorted cargo o' cigarettes, pickled pigs' feet, mares' nests, and ice-cream."

"Mares' nests!" exclaimed Henry.

"Ice-cream!" cried George.

"Them's it! The mares' nests is built in the mountains by the wild mares, an' is imported to this country for political purposes. The ice-cream made in St. Thomas are werry bad, werry bad indeed; but it won't melt in this here climate 'cos it are so hot where it are made, an' so it are imported here in bricks an' sold as ice-cream candy, w'ich the same you may have eat, but don't do so no more. Howsumever that 'ain't got nothin' to do with this 'ere yarn wot I'm a-tellin' ye. The Raw Tomatters are a werry big schooner, an' she got under way with a crew o' twenty men, all told, includin' me, wot were the second mate, an' the Cap'n's mother, w'ich the same she were the cause o' the whole bilin'. The Cap'n's name were Janders Blue, an' he were a smallish man with a turned-up nose, one glass eye, an' a wooden arm, w'ich the same he got in the whalin' trade. His mother's name were Mehitabel Blue, an' she stood six feet three, an' could lift a barrel o' salt horse. So bein', it putty soon come to be knowed that she were not only the Cap'n's mother, but a mother-in-law to the hull crew. The trouble with her were that she weren't brought up among seafarin' pussons, but in a werry respectable country town where there were more churches than stores. She'd went down to St. Thomas on a steamer fur her health, she said, an' were now goin' fur to make the v'yidge back with her good son. I didn't see wot she wanted o' any more health than she had; but I didn't say nothin', her bein' the Cap'n's mother an' me the second mate, w'ich the same 'ain't got much to say.

"Waal, the squalls commenced fur to make up jes as soon as ever we started to git the anchor. The old lady, wearin' a wide-brimmed straw hat with a long red feather into 't, an' holdin' a white umbreller over her head, stood aft alongside o' her son. Sez he, 'H'ist the outer jib.' Sez I, 'Lively there, you swabs.' With that the old woman she shet the umbreller down with a snap, jumped forrad in about four hops, an' sez she ter me, sez she,

"'Wot kind o' langwidge are that ter use in the presence of a lady?'

"'Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am,' sez I to she, sez I, 'I weren't aware as how it were onperlite,' sez I, jes like that.

"'Don't you dast to call no man no sich names ag'in w'ile I'm on this 'ere boat,' sez she; 'ef ye do, I'll git my son ter discharge ye right off.'

"Then she h'isted the umbreller ag'in an' went aft. The men looked at me an' I looked at them, an' we didn't none on us say nothin'; 'cos why, there weren't nothin' to say. But blow me fur pickles ef 'twere more'n five minutes afore she bruk out in a noo place. Bill Doosenbury, the fust mate, he sings out fur some un to set the torps'ls.

"'Lay aloft an' loose torps'ls,' sez he. 'Lively now, you sea-cooks!'

"May I never cross the blessed hequator ag'in ef the old woman didn't dance right up to Bill, an' fetch him a swat over the head with the umbreller.

"'I'll not stand it,' sez she to he, sez she. 'I'll not listen to no sich talk.'

"With that the Cap'n comes a-runnin' up to her, an' sez he, 'Mother, wot's wrong?'

"'Wot d'ye mean, Janders Blue,' sez she to he, sez she, 'by allowin' o' sich permiskis langwidge on your boat?'

"'W'y, mother,' sez he, 'that are reg'lar sea langwidge.'

"'Then it are got to be changed,' sez she to he, sez she, jes like that, him bein' Cap'n of the schooner, an' she bein' his mother with a white umbreller. She turned around to go aft ag'in, an' stopped like she were hit herself. 'Janders Blue,' sez she, 'look at this here rope!'

"'Wot's the matter with 't, mother?'

"'It are all covered with tar!'

"'That's allers the way with 'em on ships,' sez he.

"'Nonsense!' sez she. 'I ain't a-goin' to stand it. You're all in a plot to make this 'ere v'yidge o' mine a failure. I won't have it! Janders Blue, you set them lazy sailors to work right off with hot water 'n' soap a-scrubbin' that stuff off. Ugh! Tar! Ugh!'

"I hope I may turn into a bloomin' Sally Growler ef the Cap'n didn't do jes wot she told him. Ye never in the hull course o' your life see sich a ridikalous sight as sailor-men a-scrubbin' the tar off their own riggin'. An' that weren't the wust o' 't. Byme-by, o' course, it come on night, and the side-lights were set. Now it so happened that we had a strong breeze on the starboard beam that night, an' we was putty well hove over. Mrs. Blue she come on deck jes after the lights was sot, an' she vowed as how she were tired o' the starn part o' the wessel, an' were a-goin' to walk up an' down forrad. She came along to the fok's'le deck an' got down on the lee side to walk up an' down. Jes as soon as she done that she seed the red light in the port riggin'. She let out a yawp as almost killed the wind, and called fur Bill Doosenbury. He come a-runnin' half scart to death, fur fear she'd got hurt. But she sez to him, sez she:

"'Take that nasty red light down. It hurts my eyes.'

"'But, ma'am,' sez Bill, 'that's our side light.'

"'Waal,' sez she, 'put it on t'other side, and put the green one over here. I don't mind green.'

[Pg 575]

"'Couldn't you walk on t'other side?' sez Bill.

"'No, I couldn't,' sez she; 'you know it's too windy up there. You change them lights!'

"Bill tried to tell her why it couldn't be did, but she wouldn't listen to him. She hollered fur the Cap'n, an' he come forrad, an' findin' out wot were the matter, offered to put out both lights, blow me fur a herrin' ef he didn't.

"'Wot!' sez she, 'an' leave me in the dark to fall down an' break my neck?'

"An' with that she set up a weepin' an' wailin' that her son didn't love her, till I'm blowed ef the old man didn't go an' shift the lights to suit her. An' then we had to put on double lookouts fur fear we'd run into somethin'. O' course soon's she went below we shifted 'em back. In the mid-watch 't come on to blow putty fresh, and I, bein' on watch, sung out a few orders about reefin', an' the watch jumped to work. Up come the old woman in a long night-gown an' a red flannel night-cap, two steps at a time.

"'Wot d'ye mean,' she yells, 'a-raisin' such a racket up here at this time o' night? It's time all decent people was in bed. Shame on ye! Shame on ye! Roisterin' an' carousin' out here this way! Go to bed, ye miserable sinners, go to bed!'

"I tried to explain to her as how the schooner'd got to be worked through the night.

"'Nonsense!' sez she to me, sez she; 'my son Janders'd never make no man work all night. He'd stop the ship an' have a night watchman to mind her till mornin'. This are some o' your doin'. You're the wust o' the hull lot. Th' idee of your bein' out this time o' night. You're old nuff to know better!'

"By that time the Cap'n were on deck, an' somehow he coaxed her to go below an' stay there. But the werry next mornin' she were at 't ag'in. We started in to wash down decks, an' up she come without her hat on an' her hair all up in yaller curl-papers. She tuk one look along the deck, an' then she bruk out:

"'Waal, of all the oncivilized ways o' cleanin' a floor I must say I 'ain't never seed nothin like that. Squirtin' onto 't with a hose! Janders! Janders! Come out here!'

"The Cap'n come on deck lookin' putty tired, an' she sez to he, sez she:

"'I won't stand it—I won't! Make them lazy men git soap an' water an' scrubbin'-brushes, an' git right down on their knees an' scrub the floor honest. Th' idee o' squirtin' onto 't!'

"An' by the great hook block we had to do 't. Right down onto our knees, es ef we wus so many old women hired out fur to do cookin', washin', an' ironin! Waal, ye may keel-haul me an' copper-bottom me on top o' my head with yaller paper ef I didn't begin fur to git putty mad. I made up my mind that the next thing o' that sort wot the old girl called out fur us to do were not a-goin' fur to be did. Waal, it weren't so werry long afore the trouble bruk loose. We had a little more wind than we wanted day afore yistiddy, an' afore we could git the torps'ls clewed down there were a hit of a split in one ov 'em. Yistiddy I got my sail needle an' palm an' were a-startin' to go up to mend the sail. The old woman stopped me an' asked me wot I were a-goin' to do. She looked at me an' at the sail needle an' the palm, an' then she let go:

"'I 'ain't never seed sich an old heathen in the hull course o' my life,' sez she. 'The idee o' climbin' up there an' riskin' your life w'en you could have the sail brung down! An' then to try to sew it with sich things as them! I won't stand it, that are all I got to say.'

"I told her that were the way them things was allers did at sea, an' she vowed it were time sich nonsense were changed. Then she called fur her son, an' sez she to he:

"This 'ere old sailor are a-doin' his best to make me mis'able aboard this 'ere ship. I won't stand it! You make him bring that sail down here and sew it up proper.'

"An' the Cap'n he sez to me, sez he, that I'd better do it her way, jes like that, him bein' Cap'n an' me second mate. I got mad an' slammed the palm down on deck, an' said I'd be swabbed afore I'd do 't.

"'Oh—h!' screeched the old woman, 'to think as how I'd be talked to like that in my son's own boat! I won't stand it! Janders Blue, you put that old man off this vessel at oncet, or I'll jump off myself an' wade ashore!'

"'But it are too deep fur wadin',' sez the Cap'n.

"'Then give him a boat.'

"'I can't spare my men.'

"'Let him row it hisself.'

"'He can't do that all alone.'

"'Oh, to think that my own son'd turn ag'in me, an' all fur a measly, chicken-faced, turkey-footed old sinner that wants to sew with a skewer!'

"An' she beginned fur to squeal so that the Cap'n, sez he to me, sez he, 'You git ashore somehow, quick.' Waal, my sons, we wuz about eight miles off yonder, an' I couldn't swim so far. But down in the fok's'le I had my trunk wot I'd carried off to bring home things in. So I went below an' emptied all the things out 'ceptin' a Chinese umbreller an' a Indian shawl. I brung the trunk on deck, an' sez I to the Cap'n, 'You rig a tackle an' lower me an' my trunk into the sea,' sez I, 'an' I'll git ashore right here. I've got friends on that there coast.' So he lowered us—me an' the trunk—an' the wind bein' fair, I set sail with the Chinese umbrella fur a sail. The old woman she stood on deck a-shakin' her umbreller at me, an' yellin' loud,

"'Don't ye dast to come back to this 'ere boat, ye old reprobate!'

"'Not as long as there are any land to stay on,' sez I to she, sez I.

"'I won't stand it!' sez she.

"'Then go to bed!' sez I.

"An' by that time the schooner were so fur away I couldn't tell wot she sez. It tuk me all night to git in half a mile o' the beach, an' then the wind changed an' I had to paddle. The surf smashed my trunk ag'in the pier; I lost my umbreller an' my shawl; but here I are, an' here I stays. An' the previous part o' my percedins I'll tell ye some other day, but jes now I'd like to see your mother an' ask her ef she's forgot how I like her coffee."

## RÖNTGEN RAYS.

### BY WILLIAM A. ANTHONY.

It is now some two months since the public was startled by the announcement that Röntgen of Bavaria had discovered that electric discharges in certain vacuum tubes, that is, tubes from which the air has been exhausted, gave out rays that would pass through wood, card-board, flesh, and numerous other substances opaque to light—that is, through which light would not pass, and would then affect the sensitive plates used in photographing, making it possible to show upon the plates the outlines of objects entirely hidden from the eye.

Probably what most aroused the interest of the public was the fact that when a structure, like the hand, was interposed in the path of these rays, the bones would cast a deep shadow, while the shadow cast by the flesh was very faint. It was thus possible to photograph the bones of the living body, and, of course, to show the presence of foreign substances or abnormal growths.

What has excited most surprise, perhaps, is the fact that these rays pass through bodies that are generally considered opaque, for it seems to those not familiar with the facts and demonstrations of science a most surprising thing that any rays should go through wood planks or sheets of metal or living flesh or brick walls. But is it really any more wonderful than that rays of light should go through glass or quartz or diamond or water? We are familiar with this last fact, because we can "see through" these substances. We know that glass does not shut out light, because we can see the space beyond it illuminated. But we have no sense that tells us of the presence of the Röntgen rays. We must resort to the photographic plate or the fluorescent screen (to be described further on), to show their presence, and for all information as to their behavior. The photographic plate is affected, while our eyes are not, and we are obliged to let such plates take the place of our eyes, and receive impressions which we can afterwards interpret.

[Pg 576]

But what are "rays"? When we stand in front of a fire of glowing coals we feel the warmth, and our eyes tell us of the light. Light and heat are said to radiate from the glowing coals, and both light and heat proceed in straight lines. These straight paths followed by radiations we have called rays. These rays are quivering motions in a medium which we call the ether, and which we believe extends through all space and pervades all bodies. They are waves, having the character of waves on the water, which we can see, and sound waves in air, which we know exist.

These ether waves, those that affect the eye and those which do not, differ from each other, as all wave motions differ, in the distance from wave to wave, or what is the same, in the frequency of the vibratory motions. As an example, compare the long ocean swell that comes thundering upon the beach at intervals of several seconds with the frequent swash, swash, swash of the little ripples on the shore of a fish-pond, or the vibrations that can be felt as a tremor of the whole church when the deep bass pipes of the great organ are sounded with the sharp shrill tones of the high treble pipe.

There are means of measuring the distances from wave to wave of the different rays in the ether, and the result is astounding. The frequency is something of which it is impossible to form any conception. About 20 millions of millions per second is the lowest, and about 1000 millions of millions the highest frequency. Of these, those only which lie between 400 and 760 millions of millions per second excite vision. In other words, the ether waves breaking upon the optic nerve must come at the rate of at least 400 millions of millions per second before that nerve will carry any impression to the brain—before we can "see" them. Why rays of these frequencies only should affect the eye we do not know. We only know that the structure of the eye is such that the other rays are powerless to produce vision. Neither do we know why the low-frequency rays will go through hard rubber and will not go through glass. We only know it is a fact.

All these ether rays may produce heat. The high-frequency rays affect the photographic sensitive plate, and also produce another effect that is of especial interest in connection with the study of the Röntgen rays. They have the power of exciting a peculiar luminosity, or light, in certain substances, which are for that reason called fluorescent.

Electrical discharges in vacuum tubes have long been known as sources of radiations which produce heat and affect the eye. Every student of physics knows the experiment with the aurora tube, which, when exhausted by a good air-pump and connected to a Holtz machine or induction coil, is seen filled with a pale light having something the appearance of the streamers of the Aurora Borealis.

FIG. 1.—THE APPARATUS USED IN MAKING RÖNTGEN RADIOGRAPHS.

Professor Crookes, by obtaining a vastly better vacuum, obtained in these tubes some new and very interesting phenomena. As the vacuum became better and better, the light within the tubes finally disappeared, and only the inside of the glass was illuminated. This Professor Crookes explained upon the supposition that the air particles remaining in the tubes are repelled from the negative terminal or "cathode" within the tube, and shoot off from it, proceeding in straight lines, until they come into collision with other particles or with the walls of the tubes, producing light wherever the collision occurs. When the exhaustion is sufficient these particles shooting out from the cathode meet with no obstructions until they reach the walls of the tube, which are bombarded by the flying particles until they shine with a sort of phosphorescent light, while the whole interior of the tube remains dark.

FIG. 2.—A RADIOGRAPH OF A MAN'S HAND.

These experiments have been repeated again and again for the last eighteen years in scientific laboratories and lecture-rooms, always exciting the greatest interest in the wonderful phenomena disclosed. But not until recently has it been known or suspected that all the time there were proceeding from the bombarded surface other rays, incapable of exciting vision, but possessing properties, and capable of producing effects even more wonderful than any that the Crookes tube had before shown. That certain invisible rays existed in the Crookes tube radiations was known about four years ago, but it remained for Professor Röntgen to demonstrate the remarkable properties which they possess. He found that a piece of card-board painted on one side with barium platino cyanide was illuminated when held near the excited Crookes tube, and that the painted surface was equally well illuminated, whether it or the reverse side of the card-board was presented to the tube. He further found that when the whole tube was[Pg 577] covered with black paper, so that no rays affecting the eye could emerge, the painted screen was still illuminated, and further yet, that the illumination remained visible when a board an inch thick, a book of a thousand pages, or a plate of hard rubber was interposed between the tube and screen.

On the contrary, he found that glass, thin pieces of metal, the bones of the hand, more or less stopped the rays, and so cast shadows. It must have been a startling image that met Professor Röntgen's eye when first he placed his hand in the path of the rays, and saw upon the screen a bony skeleton hand with only a faint outline of flesh and cartilage. It was a startling experiment to me, after I had read all the accounts of Professor Röntgen's work, and knew what to expect, when I first saw the shadow of my own hand upon the fluorescent screen. Fig. 2 shows the appearance of such a shadow. After demonstrating in this way the transmission powers of various substances, Professor Röntgen tried the effect of the rays upon the photographic plate, and found it possible to fix there the images that he had seen upon the fluorescent screen.

Fig. 1 will show how the results are obtained. A is a galvanic battery, B is a Ruhmkorff induction coil, C is a Crookes tube, and D is the plate-holder containing the sensitive plate.

FIG. 3.—A GOLDFISH WITH THE SPINE AND SOME OF THE INTERNAL ORGANS VISIBLE.

The battery produces a low-tension harmless current that is rapidly closed and broken at the induction coil, which transforms it into a high-tension current capable of producing electric sparks, and giving exceedingly painful if not fatal electric shocks. Wires convey this high-tension current from the coil to the terminals of the Crookes tube, where the Röntgen rays are produced whenever the current is turned on. In the figure the plate-holder is shown only a few inches from the tube, where the effect of the rays is strong.

Fig. 3 shows a goldfish, with all his scales and flesh on. The line of his spine is clearly visible, and many of the inner organs of his body can be clearly seen, and the skeleton comes out very clearly, because the bones are more opaque to these rays than is any other part of the body.

FIG. 4.—WING OF A PIGEON, SHOWING THE SHADING EFFECT IN BONES.

Fig. 4 shows the wing of a pigeon, which is interesting, because while the outline of the flesh is distinctly marked the feathers have practically disappeared. The bones are not only clear, however, but the thinner parts are lighter than the thicker. Fig. 5 shows the leg and head of the pigeon. Around the head it is just possible to make out the outline of the feathers, the flesh is clearly marked, and all the bones of the neck are visible. In like manner the leg is interesting.

The transparency of the flesh makes it possible to show the presence and location in the body of foreign substances. Bullets, needles, and bits of glass have already been located by means of Röntgen ray photographs, and afterwards removed by a surgical operation.

FIG. 5.—HEAD AND LEG OF PIGEON.

It is curious that the part of the eye which is transparent to the light, and through which light passes to reach and affect the optic nerve, is nearly opaque to the Röntgen rays. Vision by means of these rays would therefore be impossible, even if the optic nerve were sensitive to them.

But suppose these rays could excite vision. What should we see? Holding a purse between the eye and a Röntgen ray source, we should see the coins within it. If a person stepped in the path of the ray we should see his bony skeleton. We might see something of his internal organs; perhaps we could see his heart beat. A broken bone could be seen, and the operation of setting it could be watched. Diseased bones or enlarged joints could be examined. Tubercles in the lungs would be visible. But these things would be visible only when they came between the eye and the source of the rays, much as on a dark night objects might be visible between you and a camp fire.

In daylight objects become visible by means of the light which falls upon them and is reflected to the eye. This brings out the detail of the visible surface. But the Röntgen rays are scarcely at all reflected, and even if they produced vision, objects would become visible only as they intercepted the rays. They would not be illuminated as they are illuminated by rays of light, and only outlines, therefore, would be seen. Even fluorescent bodies which appear light under the action of the Röntgen rays are not really illuminated, but are rendered luminous—that is, are made to shine by their own light. When bodies opaque to the rays are placed before the fluorescent screen, merely a shadow is seen on it. So the photographs or "radiographs" obtained are only shadows, but they are not the flat featureless shadows of the "shadow pictures" often introduced as an entertainment at social gatherings, when the identity of the person casting the shadow is often impossible to make out. Few substances are entirely[Pg 578] opaque to the Röntgen rays, hence the shadows of thicker portions of an object will be deeper than of the thinner portions, and the shadow becomes a shaded picture that may give details of the surfaces of the object. A Röntgen ray shadow of an aluminum medal may show the design stamped upon the surface. The shading effect is well shown in the bones of the pigeon.

But if there are few substances entirely opaque to the newly discovered rays, there appear to be none that are entirely transparent. Even in air the rays appear to be rapidly absorbed, so that an extremely powerful apparatus is required for producing effects at any distance. Air seems to behave toward the Röntgen rays much as fog behaves to light, and it seems unlikely that effects can be procured at any great distance, perhaps not more than one hundred feet from the source.

It would be rash to attempt to predict the future of the Röntgen ray. The uses to which it may be applied in surgery have already been hinted at in this article. The transparency of wood makes it possible to inspect the work of a carpenter, and determine whether the work hidden under the exterior finish has been honestly done. Hidden compartments in a desk or cabinet might be revealed. The contents of a packing-box might be ascertained without opening it. But to scientific men these rays have a very great interest. What are they? Are they vibrating movements transmitted in waves, like light? Are they particles shot off from the Crookes tube and flying with enormous velocity? These are questions to be answered.

When you stand in front of a Crookes tube in action these flying particles are streaming through your body, stopping not at all at your clothing, and hardly at all checked by the flesh, nor wholly stopped even by the bones. A hard-wood board held between you and the tube is no protection. The streams pass through it unchecked. Sheets of metal even do not wholly stop them. The wonder of it all is that for nearly twenty years experimenters with the Crookes tube have been pierced through and through by these subtle streams and have never known it. Do they produce any effect as they pass through the body? Can they cause or cure disease?

It has been proved that they pass quite freely through the lungs, but if tubercules are present they stop the rays. Might not the touch of the flowing streams dissipate the tuberculosis growth and restore health? Questions like these are coming up for solution, and experimenters are seeking the answers. The study of the Röntgen ray has just begun. What may not the next few months bring forth?

## AN "OLD-FIELD" SCHOOL-GIRL.[1]

### BY MARION HARLAND.

### CHAPTER IV.

The Foggs lived on a funny little piece of land wedged in between two of the Greenfield farms. The house was a cabin of two rooms, with a stone chimney built on the outside, but the Foggs boasted that fifty-three children had been born and brought up in it. How they lived was a partial mystery to the neighborhood. They raised corn and potatoes and little else in the ground enclosed by a "worm-fence," built, it was more than suspected, of rails stolen, a few at a time, from the Greenfield fences. An acre of woodland behind the house was supposed to furnish them with fuel, and there were always pigs and chickens running wild, with a dozen or so children, in the road and fields.

They were "poor white folks" in a county where nearly everybody was respectable and well-to-do. No member of the family was ever convicted of an offence that took him into the courts. They might be suspected of stealing chickens, pigs, and wood, and even of robbing a smoke-house once in a while, but nothing was ever proved against them. Not one of them, so far as was known, had ever been in prison, and not one had ever grown rich or really respectable.

As the Grigsby children, neat and trim, lunch bags and books in hand, passed the Fogg cabin on the Monday morning the school opened, two men and four children were in and about the yard. Mrs. Fogg, the mistress of the house, stood on the porch, her married daughter, with two dirty babies holding to her skirt, leaned against a corner of the chimney; a barefoot boy was chopping sticks upon a log, a smaller boy trying to grind his knife upon a grind-stone. All stopped what they were doing to stare at the sisters and brother, and the elder matron hailed them in a coarse voice more like a man's than a woman's.

"Goin' t' school, ain't you?"

Dee nodded without halting; Bea walked straight onward, her chin level, her white sun-bonnet hiding her face. To her horror and displeasure Flea stopped, and replied politely over the tumble-down fence:

"Good-morning, Mrs. Fogg! I hope you are all well to-day."

"Tolerable, thank God!" said the old woman, changing her tone into a snuffling whine. "Ain't you too soon fo' school? The teacher 'ain' gone by yet."

"We like to be in good time," rejoined Flea, affably. "Aren't your boys going?"

"No, bless you, honey. Major Duncomb won't let them go in on the county, an' pore folks ain't got no money to pay teachers with. Ah well! Th' Almighty, He knows! The new teacher's real spry, ain' he?"

"Flea Grigsby!" called Bea, over her shoulder. "Come right along, or I'll tell ma when I go home."

Flea noticed her as little as she noticed Mrs. Fogg's remark on the new teacher's spryness. She had an idea, and was in a hurry to air it. "Major Duncombe!" she repeated. "Could he let the children in free if he liked?"

"Cert'nly, honey! He has the fus' word in all the county. Nobody dar' say his soul's his own 'less he lets 'em. 'Lord! how long? how long?'"

"I am very well acquainted with Major Duncombe," rushed on Flea, with an important air. "And you may be sure, Mrs. Fogg, that I'll speak to him about your grandchildren. Good-morning!"

She was out of breath when she overtook her sister. Bea had walked fast purposely to make the others run, loyal Dee having loitered behind with Flea.

"I should think you'd be 'shamed of yourself, stoppin' to talk with poor white folks 'long the road," commented the elder sister.

Flea smiled mysteriously. "I had business with Mrs. Fogg."

"Business! Well, I never! The less you have to do with that kind, the better."

"Mrs. Fogg is not a bad woman, Bea," said Flea, seriously. "When you ask how she is, she always says, 'Pretty well, thank God,' just like Mrs. Elton in Anna Ross. I think she is a very pious person, and it is not her fault that she is poor. I stopped in the porch once when it was raining, and she talked a great deal about the trouble she had had, and how much she prayed, and so on. If I could, I'd be a benefactor to people like that."

"I think sometimes you 'ain't got the sense you were born with, Flea Grigsby. The idea o' you benefacting anything or anybody!"

Flea's smile was yet more mysterious. In her glee over her new scheme she squeezed Dee's arm.

"You wait and see! We know—don't we, Dee?"

"Yes, sir-r-r!" said Dee, stoutly.

The prospective benefactress was still swelling with her secret when they arrived at the school-house. The boys sat on one side of the room, the girls on the other, a narrow aisle separating them. Dee dropped into a seat near the door; the girls walked well forward and took places close to the aisle. Three minutes afterward the teacher appeared in the doorway, and Major Duncombe with him. Whispers and shuffling ceased instantly; all eyes were fixed upon the two gentlemen [Pg 579]as they went up to the top of the room, turning there to face the school. It was all quite proper and dignified, until the Major, having motioned to Mr. Tayloe to take the chair ready for him, hung himself, as it were, across the corner of the desk, as Flea had seen him do last Saturday.

"For all the world like a pair of saddle-bags," Bea told her mother afterward.

Sitting thus, he watched the assembling of the motley crowd with kindly interest. Now and then he smiled and bowed, and it was always a girl whom he noticed in this way. Flea flushed delightedly at seeing that his smile and salutation to her were especially friendly. His eyes said that he was glad she was here and no worse for her adventure. Many recollected, in after-days, how sombre was the aspect of the new teacher by contrast with the Major's sunny face. One recalled that he had looked at her and frowned when she returned Major Duncombe's bow and smile.

At the time the frown gave her no concern. Her patron had distinguished her from the common herd by special courtesy. It was a promise of the eminence that would be hers from this time onward. She was already set apart and above her schoolmates.

The Major made a little speech by way of opening the session of the school. It was like himself, informal and pleasant.

"Young ladies and boys," he said, not rising from the desk, and even switching his boot lightly with his riding-whip while he talked, "I have gone security for your good behavior to the gentleman who takes charge of you for the year to come. I know you won't disappoint him or me. I have proved my faith in him as a gentleman and a scholar by putting my two boys under his care. I have told him to be strict with them. The teacher who does his duty is bound to be strict. A school is like an army. Orders must be carried out and no questions asked, and no tales told out of school. That was the law in my school-days, and it is a good law. From the very start you must believe that your teacher is your friend, and that he is doing his best. Take my word for that until you find it out for yourselves. I go his security too. I know all about him. I knew his grandfather and his father. They were true Virginia gentlemen from crown to toe. And a Virginia gentleman of the right sort is the best specimen of a man ever made. Never forget that, boys. I knew Mr. Tayloe's mother also, young ladies." In addressing them he arose to his feet, and his voice was gentler: "She was a lady such as a man takes his hat off to when he so much as thinks of her. For her sake I know that her son will treat you kindly and respectfully. For my sake I hope that you will prove yourselves, as young ladies always do, the most obedient and diligent students in the school. Upon my word"—abandoning the attempt at formal gallantry, and relapsing into his every-day manner—"when I look into these bright eyes and rosy faces, I envy Mr. Tayloe the privilege of leading you along the flowery paths of learning.

"This is all I have to say to you at present. All I ought to say, I mean, for I could talk for hours, it is so delightful to see you, and to live over for the time my own school-days in this very place. And so, good-day, and God bless every one of you!"

In passing down the aisle he laid his hand lightly upon what her father called Flea's "Shetland-pony mane," and sent a merry flash of his gray eyes into hers uplifted in enchanted surprise.

Mr. Tayloe rapped smartly upon his desk with the ruler, and flourished it at the beginning and the end of his short speech.

"Children, I am here to teach. You are here to be taught. I mean to do my duty. I shall make it my business to see that you do yours. I shall treat you, one and all, boys and girls, exactly alike. I shall have no favorites, and show no partiality to anybody. If you are lazy and disobedient and saucy, you will be punished without fear or favor. If you study well and behave well, you will not be punished.

"The school will be opened every morning by reading the Scriptures and with prayer. Open your Bibles at the first chapter of Genesis."

Every scholar had a Bible. Some had brought no other book with them. The rustling of leaves caused by the command subsided, and the teacher read distinctly, in a metallic tone, the first verse:

"'In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.' What is your name?" addressing in precisely the same voice a boy who sat at the extreme left of the front row of benches.

"Thomas Carter, sir!" faltered the startled lad.

"Thomas Carter will read the second verse, the boy next to him the third, and so on, right across the room to the end of the front bench where those girls are sitting. Then the girl next to the wall on the second bench will take her turn, and so on, clear across the room back to the other wall. Go on, Thomas Carter."

Some of the scholars read badly, some tolerably well. With one exception, none of them did themselves justice. They were diffident under the gaze of the pale blue eyes, or flustered by the sound of their own voices in the deep stillness that had fallen upon the school-room. Flea Grigsby alone kept a steady head and a steady voice. She read uncommonly well for a girl of her age, and she knew it. The boy across the aisle from her had fallen over the word "firmament," and the teacher had helped him to pass it by obliging him to spell the word twice, then to re-read the verse. Flea was the first girl who was called upon to read.

In her zeal she spoke more loudly than she was conscious of doing, emphasized certain words in a marked way, and did not forget to count "one" to herself at the comma, and "one, two, three," at the colon.

"And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so."

Bea's pretty lips were parting to begin the next verse when the teacher's gesture arrested her. An unpleasant smile drew up the corners of his mouth; his eyes were fixed upon Flea's face. To the amazement of the school he proceeded to read aloud the verse she had just finished, mimicking her girlish pipe, and exaggerating into absurdity the emphasis she had meant to make effective.

Some of the boys snickered; a few girls giggled. The rest looked scared and puzzled.

"THAT IS NOT READING; THAT IS MOUTHING."

"That is not reading; that is mouthing," Mr. Tayloe ended the imitation by saying. "The sooner you get rid of that sort of affectation, Felicia Grigsby, the better for yourself. It may do for your private Shakespeare studies. It will not do for the Bible and this school. You think it very fine; it is really ridiculous. Next girl, read the eighth verse!"

The blow was brutal. It cut, as he had meant it should, down to the quick of the child's sensibilities. True, her self-conceit and her mannerisms had drawn it upon her. When children are thus "taken down" by their superiors in age and position we say, "It hurts, but it is good for them. But for such rubs they would be prigs; but for such pricks to vanity they would grow up cads. We all had to go through the small mill. In after-years we are the wiser for it."

Had Felicia Grigsby dropped from the bench in a dead swoon it would have been a merciful relief from what she endured, as, with eyes bent upon the page she could not see for the hot haze that swam between her and it, she sat perfectly still and let teacher and pupils think what they might of her.

At last she was dully awake to the fact that the boys on the front bench were upon their second round. Her turn would be upon her again before she could stop breathing fast or swallow the burning ball in her throat. She could not speak! She would not try. Nearer and nearer came the husky, reedy voices of the big boys. There were five on the front bench. The smallest of the five sat next to the aisle. His name was Senalius Snead. They called him "Snail" for short. He had a high, squeaking voice, like a pig's squeal. She had not turned a leaf. She could not have read a line if she had, but her ears, grown all at once acute, lost not one of [Pg 580]the stammered words. Senalius Snead read horribly. She had pitied him when he read awhile ago. She could wish now that he would go on forever.

"And-the-evening-and-the-morning-were-the—"

"Spell it!" ordered the teacher, as the boy brought up short.

Without looking at him, Flea knew that he used a stubby forefinger with a dirty nail as a "pointer."

"S-i-x-t-h!" he squeaked. "Sixtieth day!"

"It would have been the sixtieth if you had had a hand in the job," said the master, smiling his unpleasant smile. "As it is, 's-i-x-t-h,' spells 'sixth.' Let us pray! The scholars will kneel."

The chapter was ended then! Flea grew sick all over. Her head felt queer, and the sweat started out in icy drops upon her forehead and upper lip. She never knew how she got upon her knees, but she was there, her face in her hands, her elbows upon the bench. Mr. Tayloe stood up and read a short prayer from a book. It asked, among other things, that "our hands may be kept from picking and stealing." There was nothing about breaking the hearts and casting down the dreams of others, or trampling under foot the small, sweet courtesies that make working-day lives tolerable. If there had been, Mr. James Tayloe would have read it all in the one tone—a tone as void of feeling and sympathy as the "rat-a-tat-tat" of a spoon upon a dish-pan.

The morning was given up to examination and arrangement of the scholars into classes. There was good stuff in Felicia, for by the time she was called forward, with six other girls about the same age and size with herself, to show what she knew, she had plucked up spirit to answer clearly every question put to her. Except that her eyes were dull, and the lip-lines sagged somewhat, she looked like her usual self. The questions that fell to her were many, and the questioner pressed them closely, taking nothing for granted. He even laid traps for her by varying the forms of the queries.

"You said that General Washington fought the battle of the Cowpens, I believe?" he said once.

"No, sir; Colonel Washington."

And again, "You don't pretend to tell me that Cornwallis did not give his sword to Washington's representative after the battle of Trenton?"

"No, sir. That was at Yorktown."

By-and-by—"The sun is nearer to the earth than the moon is, or it would not be so much hotter. That is so—isn't it?"

Flea's dull eyes did not light up, but a slight smile contracted her mouth. "The sun is 95,000,000 miles from the earth. The moon is 240,000 miles."

It was small game for a grown man, but the exchange of question and reply became presently a sort of wordy duel. The girl was on her mettle—Scotch mettle—and showed no sign of confusion when sure of her ground. Hers was an excellent mind, retentive as well as quick. What she had learned she kept, and understood how to use it.

Her father would have been proud of his lassie's proficiency in geography, grammar, and history, of her reading, her spelling, and her writing, had he been there. His heart would have been sore for her when the inquisitor at length probed her weak spot. She disliked arithmetic, and was hardly further advanced in it than the little girls beside her, who had heard with hanging jaws and round eyes what was to them a miraculous show of learning.

Mr. James Tayloe's faint blue eyes shone and twinkled at the first blunder. At the fifth he laughed out the short harsh snarl his pupils were to learn to dread.

"Aha!" He actually snapped his fingers with glee. "You don't know everything then, if you are to be a 'comfort and a pride' to your teacher—his one 'industrious and intelligent pupil!' When I meet with a boy—and especially with a girl—who thinks she can tell me more than I ever thought of learning, I like to take her down a peg or two!"

He need not have said it. The whole school looking on, partly in alarm, partly, I am sorry to say, in amusement that was the livelier for a dash of envy, understood already that for some reason he would enjoy lowering the girl in her own eyes and in the sight of others.

He was a man of strong prejudices and overbearing temper. He had been brought up as a rich man's son, and his father had died poor just as his son had left the university. In order to get the means for studying law, he must teach school for a couple of years, and Major Duncombe, who knew his story, offered him the neighborhood school, doubling the salary out of his own pocket without letting this be known to the young teacher.

He had taken a positive dislike to our poor Flea on Saturday, upon what seemed to him good grounds. Her forced composure under the severe examination to which he had subjected her was, in his opinion, sheer effrontery. She thought too much of herself, and should be taught her proper place. If she had trembled and cried, as several of the other girls had, he would have let her off more easily. She was as vain as a peacock and as stubborn as a mule, in his opinion. Such behavior was rank rebellion, and he meant to put it down with a strong hand.

#### [to be continued.]

[Pg 581]

## RICK DALE.

### BY KIRK MUNROE.

### CHAPTER XV.

### CAPTURED BY A REVENUE-CUTTER.

The sight of that armed boat making fast to the sloop, and its agile occupants springing on board, was so startling to the two lads taking in its every detail from their point of vantage on shore, that if excitement could have affected Alaric Todd's heart it would certainly have done so at that moment. As it was, he did not even realize that his heart was beating unusually fast. His mind was too full of other thoughts just then for him to remember that he had a heart. He only realized that the vessel of which he had formed the crew had fallen into the clutches of outraged law, and that for the present at least her career as a smuggler was at an end. Now that she was really captured, he was conscious of a regret that after successfully eluding her enemies so long she should after all fall into their hands. He even felt sorry for Captain Duff, surly old bear that he was.

At the same time he was thankful not to be on board the captured craft, and rejoiced in the thought that this sudden change of affairs would sweep away all Bonny's scruples, and leave him free to seek some occupation other than that of being a smuggler.

As for that young sailor himself, his feelings were equally contradictory with those of his companion, though his sympathies leaned more decidedly toward the side of the law-breaker.

"Poor Cap'n Duff!" he exclaimed in a low tone. "This is tough luck for him; and I must say, Rick Dale, that the whole thing is pretty much your fault, too. If you'd kept a half-way decent lookout you'd have seen that yawl when she was two miles off. Then we could have got under way, and given her the slip as easy as you please. Now you and I have lost our job, while Cap'n Duff will lose his and his boat besides. I'll never see my wages, either; and, worst of all, in spite of my invention working so smooth these revenue fellows have got the laugh on us. I say it's too bad, though to be sure it does let us out of the smuggling business. I expect it will be a long time, though, before I get another job as first mate, or any other kind of a job that will be worth having."

"But, Bonny," interposed Alaric, anxious to defend his own reputation, "I wasn't told to look out for boats, but only to watch the cutter, and I hardly took my eyes off of her until you came."

"That's all right; only by the time you've knocked round the world as much as I have you'll find out that any fellow who expects to get promoted has got to do a heap of things besides those he's told to do. What he is told to do is generally only a hint of what he is expected to do. But just listen to the old man. Isn't he laying down the law to those chaps, though?"

The voices of those on the sloop came plainly to the ears of the hidden lads, and above them all roared and bellowed that of Captain Duff, as though he expected to overwhelm his enemies by sheer force of bluster.

"Chinamen!" he shouted—"Chinamen! No, sir, ye won't find no Chinamen aboard this craft, nor nothing else onlawful."

"Smell 'em, do ye? Smell 'em! So do I now, and hev ever sence you revenooers come aboard. Seems like ye can't get the parfume out of your clothing."

"Going to seize the sloop anyway, be ye? Waal, ye kin do it, seeing as I'm all alone and a cripple. There'll come a day of reckoning, though—a day of reckoning, d'ye hear? I'm a free-born American citizen, and I'll protest agin this outrage till they hear me clear to Washington."

"He's heard over a good part of Washington this minute," whispered Bonny. "But what are they talking about now?"

[Pg 582]

"Phil Ryder!" the Captain was shouting. "Philip Ryder! No, sir, there ain't no one of that name aboard this craft, nor hain't ever been as I know of. I did know a Phil Ryder once, but— What's that ye say? That'll do? Waal, it won't do, ye gold-mounted swab, not so long as I choose to keep on talking. Lookout there, or I'll brain ye sure as guns! Lookout, I—"

This last exclamation was directed to a couple of sturdy bluejackets, who, obeying a significant nod from their officer, seized the irate Captain by either arm, hustled him down into his own cabin, and drew the slide. Then leaving these two aboard the Fancy, the others re-entered their boat and began to pull toward shore, with the evident intention of making a search for the missing members of the sloop's crew as well as for her recent passengers.

"Hello!" cried Bonny, softly, "this thing is beginning to get rather too interesting for us, and the sooner we light out the better."

So the lads started on a run, and had gone but a few rods, when Alaric, catching his toe on a projecting root, was tripped up and fell heavily. With such force was he flung to the ground that for several minutes he was too sick and dizzy to rise. When he finally regained his feet, and expressed a belief that he could again run, it was too late. The boat's crew were already scattering through the woods, and one man, detailed to search the point, was coming directly toward the place where the boys were concealed.

It seemed inevitable that they should be discovered, and Alaric, already giving himself up for lost, was beginning to see visions of the government prison on McNeil's Island, when Bonny spied one avenue of escape that was still open to them.

"Scrooch low!" he whispered, "and follow me as softly as you can."

Alaric obeyed, and the young sailor began to move as rapidly as possible toward the beach. With inexcusable carelessness the Lieutenant had left his boat hauled up on the shore without a man to guard her. Bonny noticed this, and also that the sloop's dinghy still lay where he had left it. If they could only reach the dinghy unobserved they would stand a much better chance of making an escape by water than by land.

So the boys crept cautiously through the undergrowth without attracting the attention of their only near-by pursuer, until they reached the beach, where a cleared space of about one hundred feet intervened between them and their coveted goal, and this they must cross, exposed to the full view of any who might be looking that way. They paused for an instant, drew long breaths, and then made a dash into the open.

Almost with the first sound of rattling pebbles beneath their feet came a yell from behind. The bluejacket had discovered them, and was leaping down the steep slope in hot pursuit.

"RUN, RICK! YOU'VE GOT TO RUN!" PANTED BONNY.

"Run, Rick! You've got to run!" panted Bonny. "Give me the bag." Snatching the canvas bag from Alaric's hands as he spoke, the active young fellow darted ahead and flung it into the dinghy. "Now shove!" he cried. "Shove with all your might!"

It was all they could do to move the boat, for the tide had fallen sufficiently to leave it hard aground, and with their first straining shove they only gained a couple of feet; the next put half her length in the water, and with a third effort she floated free.

"Tumble in!" shouted Bonny, and Alaric obeyed literally, pitching head foremost across the thwarts with such violence, that but for his comrade's hold on the opposite side the boat would surely have been capsized.

With the water above his knees, Bonny gave a final shove that sent the boat a full rod from shore, and in turn tumbled aboard.

He was none too soon; for at that moment the sailor reached the spot they had just left, and rushing into the water, began to swim after them with splendid overhand strokes. Bonny snatched up the dinghy's single oar, and seeing that they would be overtaken before he could get the boat under way, brandished it like a club, threatening to bring it down on the man's head if he came within reach.

A single glance at the lad's resolute face convinced the swimmer that he was in dead earnest, and realizing his own helplessness, he wisely turned back. Then with a shout of derision Bonny began to scull the dinghy toward open water, while the sailor strove with unavailing efforts to launch the heavy yawl.

Without troubling themselves any further about him, the lads turned their attention to the sloop, which they were now approaching. The two men left in charge had watched with great interest the scene just enacted so close to them, but in which, having no boat at their disposal, they were unable to participate. Now one of them shouted: "Come aboard here, you young villains! What do you mean by running off with government property?"

"What do you mean by eating my breakfast?" replied Alaric, hungrily, as he noticed the men making a hearty meal off the food they had discovered in the sloop's galley.

"Your breakfast is it, son? So you belong to this craft, do you? Come aboard and get it, then."

"Don't you wish we would?" retorted Bonny, jeeringly, as he stopped sculling and allowed the dinghy to drift just beyond reach from the sloop. "I say, though, you might toss us a couple of hardtack."

"What? Feed you young pirates with rations that's just been seized by the government? Not much. I'm in the service, I am."

Just then a bright object flashed from one of the little round cabin windows and fell in the dinghy. It was a box of sardines. Tins of potted meat, mushrooms, and other delicacies followed in quick succession. One or two fell in the water and were lost; but most of them reached their destination, and were deftly caught by Alaric, whose baseball experience was thus put to practical use. So before the bewildered guards fully realized what was taking place the dinghy was fairly well provisioned. At length one of them seemed to comprehend the situation, and sprang in front of the open port just in time to stop with his legs a flying tumbler of raspberry jam. As it broke and streamed down over his white duck trousers the boys in the dinghy shouted with laughter, and nearly rolled overboard in their irrepressible mirth.

All at once there came a hoarse shout from the same cabin port. "Look astarn, ye lubbers! Look astarn!"

So occupied had the lads been with the sloop that they had given no thought to what might be taking place on shore, but at this warning a startled glance in that direction filled them with dismay.

Another sailor, attracted by the shouts on the beach, had returned to the assistance of his mate, and together they had succeeded in launching the yawl. Then, pulling very softly, they had slipped up on the unwary lads, until they were so close that one of them had quit rowing, and crept forward to the bow, when he crouched with an outstretched boat-hook, that in another second would be caught over the dinghy's sternboard.

### CHAPTER XVI.

### ESCAPE OF THE FIRST MATE AND CREW.

The situation certainly looked hopeless for our lads, and the men on the sloop were already shouting derisively at them. Alaric caught another mental glimpse of the government prison, and even Bonny's stout heart experienced an instant of despair. He was still standing in the stern of the dinghy and holding the oar that he had used in sculling. Moved by a sudden impulse, and just as the extended boat-hook was dropping over the stern of the dinghy, he struck it a smart blow with his oar, and had the good fortune to send it whirling from the sailor's grasp. With a second quick motion the lad set his oar against the stern of the yawl, that was now within four feet of him, and gave a vigorous shove. The slight headway of the heavy craft was checked, and the lighter dinghy forged ahead.

"Oh, you will, will you, you young rascal?" cried the sailor, angrily, as he leaped back to his thwart, and bent to his oar with furious energy[Pg 583]. His companion followed his example, and under the impetus of their powerful strokes the yawl sprang forward. At the same time Bonny, facing backward, and working his oar with both hands, was sculling so sturdily that the dinghy rocked from side to side until it seemed to Alaric that she must certainly capsize. She was making such splendid headway, though, that the much heavier yawl could not gain an inch. Its crew, unable to see the fugitive dinghy without turning their heads, and having no one to steer for them, were placed at a disadvantage that Bonny was quick to detect.

Watching his opportunity, he caused his craft to swerve sharply to one side, and the yawl holding her original course for some seconds before his manœuvre was discovered, his lead was thus materially increased.

Just as Bonny was ready to drop his oar from exhaustion a shrill, long-drawn whistle sounded from the now distant beach. Its effect on the crew of the yawl was magical. They stopped rowing, looked at each other, and consulted. Then they gazed at the retreating dinghy and hesitated. They felt it to be their duty to continue the pursuit, but they also knew the penalty for disobeying an order from a superior, and that whistle was an unmistakable order for them to go back.

The cutter's third Lieutenant had returned from his expedition into the woods with three wretched Chinamen, whom, despite their eagerly produced certificates, he had seen fit to make prisoners. He was amazed to find the yawl gone from where he had left it, and the details of the chase in which it was engaged being hidden from him by the intervening sloop, he gave the whistle signal for its immediate return.

As the crew of the yawl hesitated between duty and obedience the peremptory whistle order was repeated louder and shriller than before. This decided the wavering sailors, and they reluctantly turned their boat.

As for the fugitives, they could hardly believe the evidence of their senses. Was the chase indeed given over, and were they free to go where they pleased? It seemed incredible. Just as they were on the point of being captured, too, for Bonny now confided to Alaric that he couldn't have held out at that pace one minute longer. As he said this the tired lad sat down for a short rest.

Almost immediately he again sprang to this feet, and thrusting his oar overboard, began to scull with one hand. "It won't do for us to be loafing here," he explained, "for I expect those fellows have been called back so that the whole crowd can chase us in the sloop."

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

"So am I," laughed Bonny—"tired in more ways than one; but if fellows bigger than we are will insist on chasing us, I don't see that there is anything for us to do but run. There! thank goodness we've rounded the point at last, and got out of sight of them for a while at any rate."

"Where are you going now, and what do you propose to do next?" asked Alaric, who, fully realizing his own helplessness in this situation, was willing to leave the whole scheme of escape to his more experienced companion.

"That's what I'm wondering. Of course it won't do to stay out here very long, for in less than fifteen minutes the sloop will be shoving her nose around that point. Nor it wouldn't be any use to try and get to Tacoma—at least not yet a while—for that's where they'll be most likely to hunt for us. So I think we'd better cross the channel, turn our boat adrift, and make our way overland to Skookum John's camp. It isn't very sweet-smelling, and they don't feed you any too well—that is, not according to our ideas—but just because it is such a mean kind of a place no one will ever think of looking for us there. Besides, Skookum's a very decent sort of a chap, and he'll keep us posted on all that happens in the bay. So if you don't mind roughing it a bit—"

"No, indeed," interrupted Alaric, eagerly. "I don't mind it at all. In fact, that is just what I want to do most of anything, and I've always wished I could live in a real Indian camp. The only Indians I ever saw were in the Wild West Show in Paris."

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

"Yes, of course, I was there for— I mean yes, I've been there. But, Bonny, what makes you think of turning this boat adrift? Wouldn't we find her useful?"

"I suppose we might; but she isn't our boat, you know, and you wouldn't keep a boat that didn't belong to you just because it might prove useful, would you?"

"No, certainly not," replied Alaric, rather surprised to have his companion take this view of the question. "I would try and hand her over to the rightful owner."

"So would I," agreed Bonny, "if I knew who he was; but after what has just happened I don't know, and so I am going to turn her adrift in the hope that he will find her. Besides, it wouldn't be safe to leave her on shore, because she would show anybody who happened to be looking for us just where we had landed."

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

During this conversation the dinghy had been urged steadily across the channel, and was now run up to a bold bank, where the boys disembarked. After removing Alaric's bag and the several cans of provisions so thoughtfully furnished them by Captain Duff, Bonny gave the boat a push out into the channel, down which the ebbing tide bore her, with many a twist and turn, toward the more open waters of the sound.

"To be left in this way in an unknown wilderness makes me feel as Cortez must have felt when he burned his ships," reflected Alaric, as he watched the receding craft.

"I don't think I ever heard about that," said Bonny, simply. "Did he do it for the insurance?"

"Not exactly," laughed Alaric; "and yet in a certain way he did too. I'll tell you all about it some time. Now, what are you going to do next?"

"Climb that bluff, lie down under those trees while you eat something, and watch for the sloop," answered Bonny, as though his programme had all been arranged beforehand.

They did this, and Alaric was so hungry that he made away with a whole box of sardines and a tin of deviled ham. He wondered a little if they would not make him ill, but did not worry much, for he was rapidly learning that while leading an out-of-door life one may eat with impunity many things that would kill one under more ordinary conditions. He had just finished his ham, and was casting thoughtful glances toward a bottle of olives, when Bonny exclaimed. "There she is!"

Sure enough, the sloop, with the cutter's yawl in tow, was slowly beating out past the point on the opposite side of the channel. She stood well over toward the western shore, and the tide so carried her down that when she tacked she was close under the bluff on which the boys, stretched at full length and peering through a fringe of tall grasses, watched her. She came so near that Alaric grew nervous, and was certain her crew were about to make a landing at that very spot. With a vision of McNeil's Island always before him, he wanted to run from so dangerous a vicinity and hide in the forest depths; but Bonny assured him that the sloop would go about, and in another moment she did so, greatly to Alaric's relief.

They could see that Captain Duff was still confined below, and they even heard one of the men sing out to the officer in command: "There it is now, sir, about two miles down the channel. I can see it plain."

"Very good," answered the Lieutenant; "keep your eye on it, and note if they make a landing. If they don't, we'll have them inside of half an hour."

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

As the sloop passed out of hearing the lads crept back from the edge of the bluff, gathered up their scanty belongings, and started through the forest toward the place where Bonny believed Skookum John's camp to be located.

After an hour of hard travel, they came suddenly on the camp, and were terrified at sight of the cutter's yawl lying in the mouth of the creek, and the revenue officer standing on shore engaged in earnest conversation with Skookum John himself. Soon he shook hands with the Indian and stepped into his boat. Just as it was about to shove off, a villanous cur, scenting the new-comers, darted toward their hiding-place, barking furiously.

#### [to be continued.]

[Pg 584]

MAP OF THE CONGO BASIN.

## STORIES OF CONGO DISCOVERY.

### THE SECOND LARGEST RIVER IN THE WORLD.

### BY CYRUS C. ADAMS.

A NATIVE RIVER BRIDGE.

About a hundred years ago the school children of our country were reading in their Morse's Geography that there were no great mountains in North America, and that our largest mountains were the Alleghanies, which were supposed to be a continuation of the Andes, interrupted by the Gulf of Mexico. Teachers in those days edified boys and girls with more or less amusing misinformation such as this about the land they lived in. It was three hundred years after Columbus had discovered America, and such blunders in the text-books show how very slowly geographical knowledge had grown in those centuries.

But there has been a revolution. For over fifty years men and women have been eagerly studying this great house where we abide, with its five big rooms and its thousands of little ones. No one ever saw before such zeal for geographical discovery. Africa heads the list, for that continent, a fourth larger than our own, which was scarcely known a century ago, except in its outlines and along some of its rivers, has been thrown open to our gaze in nearly every corner; and the part of Africa where the greatest amount of work, the largest interest, and the most surprising discoveries have centred is the basin of the Congo, the second largest of the world's river systems.

Europe knew of this mighty river before she ever heard of Columbus. For four centuries sailors of various lands saw the Atlantic tinted for forty miles from the shore by the yellow Congo tide; but no one knew till Stanley told, eighteen years ago, where this mighty flood came from. Livingstone lived and travelled for many months along the far upper Congo, but the great old man died in the belief that he had traced one of the sources of the Nile. It was the Niger problem reversed. Nobody knew for centuries where the Niger River reached the sea. Nobody knew where the Congo gathered its great floods. One river needed a mouth, and the other a fountainhead, and so some wise geographers united the two, making the Niger the upper part of the Congo. Mungo Park, who traced the upper Niger for a thousand miles, believed it was a Congo tributary, if not the Congo itself; and the Tuckey expedition perished of fever among the lower Congo cataracts in 1816, while bravely trying to fulfil their mission to ascend the Congo to the Niger, if the two rivers were really one.

Eighteen years ago Stanley traced the Congo from central Africa over 1500 miles to the ocean. His great discovery made him famous, but other men who followed him, some of whose names are hardly known, except to geographers, have travelled far more widely in the Congo basin than Stanley was able to do. He led the way, and forty or fifty followers, scattering all over the Congo basin, which is half as large as the United States, have been revealing this land to us; and students of the ocean have been studying the sea-bed off its mouth. Let us glance at a few facts that have been learned about this mighty river system.

It is found that more water pours into the ocean through the Congo's mouth, which is six miles wide, than from all the other rivers in Africa put together. The soft, dark-colored mud brought down by the river has been distinctly traced on the ocean bottom for six hundred miles from the land. In no other part of any ocean do the influences of the land waters make themselves felt so far out to sea.

But it is not the deep lower Congo, which large steamers from Europe ascend to the foot of the rapids, nor the roaring torrents along the 235 miles of the cataract region, that have attracted most attention. It is the placid upper Congo, with its few reaches of rapids, and its many tributaries, stretching away to far[Pg 585]-distant parts of inner Africa, that has kept the map-makers busy. This is the part of the continent where explorers have been most active and the results most remarkable. No part of the world of the same extent ever yielded so many geographical surprises as did this region from 1885 to 1890. It was simply impossible for the cartographers to keep their maps abreast of the news as it came from the upper Congo.

BOMA, THE CAPITAL OF THE CONGO STATE. STANLEY'S BOAT IN THE FOREGROUND.

In January, 1885, the missionary George Grenfell started from Stanley Pool on his little steamboat in quest of villages of friendly natives where mission stations might be planted with good prospects of success. He had previously been far up the river, and thought he knew it very well; but on this trip he accidentally got out of the Congo, and did not discover his mistake until he had steamed along a whole day, and found that his little craft was pushing into a region where no white man had ever been before. Grenfell had stumbled into the mouth of the Mobangi-Makua River. For more than two years Stanley and his followers had been travelling up and down the Congo, but they never saw—or at least they never recognized—this great affluent, which is larger than any European river except the Volga and the Danube. Grenfell forgot his missions for the time, became the zealous explorer, and kept on his course up the wide river until he was stopped by rapids, having left the Congo about 400 miles behind; and while he was threading the virgin stream Stanley was in England making his large map of the Congo, on which not a trace of its greatest tributary appeared. The distinguished explorer was the first victim of the swarm of discoveries which from that day for years made every new map of the Congo behind the times as soon as the next mails arrived from the river.

Perhaps some of the other white men had seen the mouth of the Mobangi-Makua, and thought it merely an arm of the Congo enclosing an island; for this is the region of the sealike expansion of the river, where only a water horizon could be seen from either shore if it were not for the myriad islands that cut the river into scores of tortuous channels. There were white men on these Congo banks who neither saw nor heard of the fleet of vessels that passed them a few miles away, carrying the hundreds of men of the Emin relief expedition. Before Stanley came whole tribes on one shore had never seen the people who lived across the river.

A little later in 1885 a steamboat was sent up the Congo to the mouth of the big river that enters it at Equatorville. No vessel could have a more pleasant mission, for this steamer was the bearer of loving letters from home and fresh supplies of European food for Wissman's party of explorers, who had been in the African wilderness for many months, and might be in sore need of succor. It was thought the party was quite certain to emerge from the great unknown region south of the Congo at Equatorville, and the reason for this belief is interesting.

NATIVE VILLAGE WHERE WISSMAN STARTED DOWN THE KASSAI.

Many years before, Livingst[Pg 586]one had crossed the upper waters of a river, the Kassai, now known as the second largest Congo tributary. Stanley believed the Kassai emptied into the Congo at Equatorville, and all the map-makers adopted his hypothesis. Captain Wissman and his comrades were sent from Germany to march inland from the Atlantic to the upper waters of the Kassai, and then to follow it to its mouth; and as this point was supposed to be at Equatorville, the mails and supplies for Wissman were sent there, and the officers of the steamer expected any day to see his expedition float into view.

Wissman reached the upper Kassai, and discovered there a remarkable tribe, the Baluba, whose chief had cut down all the palm-trees in his country to keep his people from getting drunk on palm wine. This chief helped Wissman to hollow big canoes out of tree-trunks, and then he and many of his subjects, who engaged with the explorer as paddlers, set out with the white men down the unknown stream.

Wissman expected that the river would carry him far to the north, but in a few days he was much surprised to find that he was travelling much further west than north. Day after day he floated further and further to the west, and after many weeks, and some curious adventures that cannot be told in this chapter, he reached the Congo. A few days later another stern-wheeler ascended the Congo, and at Equatorville pulled up to the shore alongside the waiting vessel.

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

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

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

"Well, we've been here a little over two months. We're running short of supplies ourselves, and if the party doesn't turn up here within the next week, we shall leave Wissman's mails and boxes, and go back to Stanley Pool."

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

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

"Just a week."

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

"He did. You see, this river here isn't the Kassai. The Kwa River is the Kassai. Wissman reached the Congo at Kwamouth over 200 miles south of here."

More work for the map-makers. This story illustrates the surprises that came to Europe month after month from the Congo basin. The geographers had to pull to pieces most of their preconceptions about the lay of the land and the extent and direction of the rivers. The waters of the Sankuru, for instance, which Livingstone and Stanley had crossed in their upper part, were found to reach the Congo about 700 miles from the supposed point of confluence. Lakes that had appeared on the maps, on native or Arab authority, were wiped out. A part of the Lualaba, or western head stream of the Congo, was found to have no counterpart in Africa. The narrow gorge, forty-three miles long, through which it flows, walled in by perpendicular rock masses rising a quarter of a mile above the stream, resembles our great Western cañons. In these few years nearly all of our notions of Congo hydrography away from the main stream were completely changed.

This was not all. While threading these numerous rivers in their little steamboats, the explorers found many new peoples who had been buried from the world's view in the dark Congo forests or on the vast inland plains. You have read of the ancient troglodytes and of the prehistoric lake-dwellers of Europe. Proofs of their existence are found among the earliest evidences of human life; but the Congo basin to-day has two large centres of lake-dwellers. Many thousands of people live in huts reared high on piles out of reach of floods; and a few lakes are dotted with these habitations, thus placed beyond the easy reach of enemies.

The explorers discovered the widespread haunts of the Batwa dwarfs—the keen little hunters who had been seen when Stanley wrote his book, The Congo. Their researches proved that the Congo basin is the greatest hotbed of cannibalism the world ever saw. These and many other discoveries kept geographers on the alert. Thus the Congo basin has contributed a chapter to geographical and anthropological discovery that has scarcely been surpassed in importance or romantic interest.

## THE BROKEN CHARGE.

### BY JAMES BUCKHAM.

Would you hear of the bravest, coolest deed
Ever inspired by a nation's need?
Thomas McBurney—a Kansas-bred Scot—
Lay in his rifle-pit, waiting a shot.
Over him whistled the enemy's balls;
Ping! and they struck in the rampart walls.
Suddenly out of the woods there broke
A line of cavalry gray as smoke.
A troop—a regiment—a brigade.
Oh! what a rush and a roar they made!
A wild, swift charge on the frail redoubt,
Carbines ready and sabres out.
Hither and thither, like frightened hares,
Fled the sharpshooters out of their lairs.
All save Thomas McBurney; he
Thought not first what his fate might be.
Uppermost thought in his hero soul,
To save the fort, and the field control.
On they thundered, the cavalcade.
McBurney waited; his plan was made.
Fifty yards from his cairn of rocks—
Up he popped, like a Jack-in-the-box!
Bang! and the leader's horse went down,
Neck outstretched in the wire-grass brown.
Over him tumbled a dozen more,
And the Colonel—his heart and his head were sore.
"Halt!" he cried, and the broken line
Stopped, strung out like a trailing vine.
Lo! in the valley's dim expanse
Tossing flags and bayonets' glance.
Re-enforcements! At double-quick
They cross the meadows and ford the creek—
Boys in blue, with their banners bright,
Just in season to turn the fight.
Thomas McBurney, as cool as you please,
Settled down on his dust-grimed knees.
To pray? Yes, thankfully—and to run
A well-greased cartridge into his gun!

## THE VANISHED ISLAND.

"Let her go off a little, Ralph; you'll come out better in the end if you don't jam your boat too close to the wind. Keep your sail full, even if you don't point quite so high, and you'll go faster through the water, and get quicker to the place you're bound to."

So spoke Grandfather Sterling one summer afternoon to his grandson as the old Captain's cat-boat Mabel was being tacked across the bay, after a day spent in picnicking on one of a number of the little islands that were to be found within a few miles of the Captain's down-east home.

"Grandfather," said Ralph, after letting the boat run up in the wind to ease her of a strong and sudden puff, "while we were fishing to-day you made the remark that the last time you had fishe[Pg 587]d off an uninhabited island you were a good many thousands of miles from this part of the world. Is there a good story connected with it?"

The old mariner nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Yes, my lad, as usual I have an exciting yarn to spin you, even if the subject is nothing more than that of an uninhabited island, and to-night, after dinner has been tucked away, you may expect to hear it. But here's the dock, so mind your eye, and let me see you bring the Mabel to it in ship-shape style."

Ralph steered so as to go to leeward of the pier, calculating the distance his boat would reach after she had been thrown up in the wind, and a moment later he put the tiller down and gathered in his sheet. The Mabel shot ahead with considerable speed for a moment, then her way became slower and slower, and when her snub nose touched the dock there was not enough force in the contact to send a tremor through the boat.

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

That evening Ralph's grandfather related to the lad a story, which he named, "The Yarn of the Vanished Island."

"It is so many years ago now that I dislike to tell you the number, for fear that you will think that I am growing old; so I will simply say that when I was a hearty young seaman I found myself out in San Francisco 'on the beach,' as sailors put it when they have neither money nor employment. I could have had both by remaining on the Dove, the vessel in which I had sailed around Cape Horn, but the treatment received on board had been so bad that all hands deserted as soon as she reached California. I made myself scarce until the ship sailed, then found a berth on a top-sail schooner called the Queen, that traded around the Sandwich Islands, bartering all kinds of trinkets with the natives for sandal-wood and the plumage of beautiful birds, which in the days I refer to were common on all the islands. The sandal-wood and feathers were carried to China and traded for tea, and this was taken to California and sold in different ports along the coast.

"We were a happy family on board the Queen, for we all lived in a big cabin aft, and Captain Josiah Crabtree, the master of the schooner, who was a very eccentric and pious old fellow from Massachusetts, and who had made a considerable fortune in the trade, kept strict order among us, and seemed to consider himself responsible for our spiritual as well as earthly welfare, for he held church service regularly every Sunday morning on deck, and obliged all hands to be present. He quoted Scripture on all occasions, and always had an appropriate verse handy for anything and everything, whether it was a call to meals or an order to tar down the rigging. In spite of his peculiar ways we respected him so much that during the time I served on the schooner I never heard a profane word used—in fact, it would have been unhealthy to do so, for Captain Crabtree was over six feet in height, and was what is called a 'muscular Christian.'

"On the voyage I sailed with him, the master of the Queen was to try a new plan. The supply of feathers had been falling off for the last two or three voyages, so he determined to go hunting on his own account. He explained to us that there were a number of small islands to the northward and westward of Hawaii that were uninhabited, and that he proposed to visit several of them, leaving a man on each, supplied with provisions, a shot-gun, and plenty of ammunition, and that during the short time we were to play Robinson Crusoe he expected us to shoot as many birds as possible, and to carefully save their feathers until he should come back and pick us up. This plan suited us first rate, for we looked upon it as promising a great lark, and were anxious for the Queen to cover the twenty-five hundred miles of water that separated us from the little islands with their delightful climate on which we were to picnic.

"After a long passage, for the schooner was a slow sailer, we sighted the first of the group, and one of the men was set on shore. I was left on the second one, and found it a paradise, with its snow-white beach, its beautiful, luxuriant vegetation and woods, and its balmy air laden with the odor of flowers. The Captain told me to look out for his return about a fortnight later.

"As there was a rivalry among the sportsmen on account of a money prize offered for the one who secured the largest amount of gay-colored feathers, I soon got my little camp in shape, and settled down to business. So numerous were the birds, and so proficient did I become in the use of my fowling-piece, that by the time the two weeks had passed my store of treasure almost filled the large sack that I had brought from the schooner.

"It was the night of the fifteenth day that I had been on the island. Ever since early morning the atmosphere had been so stifling that I had lain under the trees almost suffocated. The earth itself seemed to burn. It was not only the fearful heat and the absence of anything like a breeze, but there was a sulphurous smell in the air, and the water from the spring had tasted so hot and bitter when I tried to drink it that I was not able to swallow it.

"At length I fell asleep, but only to be awakened by a fearful rumbling, followed a moment later by a crash that threatened to rend the island in twain. At the instant I took it to be thunder, but the starry splendor of the sky told me to look elsewhere for the cause. Almost before I could reason, the island commenced to rock and heave as though it was a ship at sea, and such an overpowering smell of sulphur was sent forth that I fell to the ground overcome with terror and faintness. During the remainder of the night the rumbling went on at times deep down in the heart of the island, but there were no more of the awful shocks and crashes that had stunned me in the beginning. Slowly the daylight came, bringing with it a gentle breeze that cleared away the sickening atmosphere, and then as the day broadened I made out, to my joy, the Queen standing toward the land.

"An hour later, when the schooner's boat touched the beach, I threw my bag of feathers into her and followed them. Then on our way to the vessel, which was hove to about a mile off-shore, I gave my companions an account of my last night on the island. When we reached the Queen I rehearsed my story to the Captain. He was deeply interested in its details, and was in the middle of a scriptural quotation when he stopped suddenly, gave a cry, and pointed to the island.

"We were not more than two miles from it at the time, so that it lay in full view from our deck in the brilliant sunshine. The dazzling white beach had disappeared, and the sea looked to be creeping up toward the trees that grew on the higher ground inland. As we all gazed, fascinated at the scene, the trees were sucked down slowly into the deep. Soon nothing but the tops of the tallest ones were left, and a moment later even these had entirely disappeared, and the ocean swept clear to all points of the horizon. The beautiful island on which I had lived for two weeks, and through whose woods and vales I had roamed, was swallowed up, to be seen no more forever, and amid the foliage in which I had lain two hours before the fishes were then sporting at the bottom of the Pacific."

## A WIDE-AWAKE COLLECTOR.

One of the most enterprising stamp-collectors that has ever come to our notice was a small Swiss boy, who, during the late war between Japan and China, wrote the following note to Marshal Yamagata, in command of the Japanese forces:

> Honored Marshal,—I am only a school-boy ten years old. I live at Berne. Upon the map, Switzerland is smaller than Japan. I was very pleased to hear that you have been serving the Chinese as my ancestors served their enemies. I hope that you will conquer all China, and throw down the famous wall which prevents people from going there. No doubt it is because of that wall that I have not got any Chinese stamps in my album. You must have captured a lot where you are, and I should be pleased if you would send me some.

Unfortunately for this record of his enterprise, the boy's name is unknown to us, but it is stated that the Marshal, having received the letter, was so much amused by it that he took the trouble to secure a large number of Chinese stamps and to send them to his lively little correspondent.

[Pg 588]

### BY GASTON V. DRAKE.

### XI.—FROM BOB TO JACK.

London, July —, 189-.

> Dear Jack,—We're still in London, and I guess if we stay here until we've seen it all we'll never get to Hoboken. Talk about your three-ringed circuses! London beats 'em all for side-shows and go. When you think you've seen all there is to see you come across an entirely new lot of museums, and parks, and hysterical spots to be visited, and I'm just dizzy trying to remember what Pop told me not to forget. What with St. James's Palace and Madame Tussaud's wax-works, the Zoo and the National Gallery, I hardly know what I saw where, except that of course I didn't see any wax-works at the Zoo.

> I think altogether the Zoo and the wax-works are the things I've liked best of all about here. The National Gallery is pretty good, but after you've seen about forty-two miles of pictures, some of 'em as big as a farm your eyes get tired and the back of your neck sort of hurts. Still, I went through it because Pop said I ought to, and whenever I have a nightmare nowadays instead of seeing boojums and snarks I see old masters. You never saw an old master did you? Well you needn't be in any hurry to. They aren't the sort of things boys like very much. They're generally cracked so's to look like a go-bang board and keep you guessing about what they're pictures of, but Aunt Sarah who studied art last winter in Yonkers says they're very educating, and I guess she knows. She says she does anyhow and I don't think she'd say a thing that wasn't so. I can't say that I've learned much from 'em except perhaps that the pictures you and I draw in the backs of our spelling books aren't so bad after all.

> Pop says he's learned one thing from 'em too. There used to be a fellow named Gainsborough that painted acres of pictures every year, and Pop says his things are fine and prove that theatre hats aren't modern inventions and he's right about it. He's got several pictures in this gallery that would drive me crazy if I had to sit behind 'em at a matinee. There were some pictures there though that I'd give house-room to if they asked me, by Sir Edwin Landseer. Pictures of dogs. I tell you he could paint dogs that bark. It was as much as I could do to keep from whistling to 'em and patting 'em on the head, and one little spaniel was painted so well that it seemed to me I could see his tail wag. Pop says that that was all imagination, but Aunt Sarah said no it was art, and I let 'em argue it out between 'em. Whatever it was though that painted dog's tail wagged and it was worth travelling miles to see.

> I was kind of disappointed with St. James's Palace. I expected to see something like a transformation scene at Humpty Dumpty, gold doors, and fountains, and bands playing and all that. You'd think a Palace would be different from a factory anyhow, but it wasn't, very. It didn't look any livelier than a jail would, and as far as the outside of it was concerned I couldn't see that it was any handsomer than the Grand Central Depot in New York, and not half as big. They wouldn't let us inside. I thought perhaps the Queen was asleep and they were afraid I'd whistle, but Pop said she didn't live there any more, and I didn't blame her. I wouldn't either if I could help it. I dare say it's very fine inside, with onyx stairways and solid gold banisters for the children to slide down, but outside I wouldn't give a cent for it. If it wasn't for the soldiers with their big bear-skin hats and robin-red-breast coats on I wouldn't have cared if we never saw it. The soldiers were worth looking at, though most of 'em have such great big bulgy chests you'd take 'em for pouter pigeons.

> Right alongside of the Palace is where the Prince of Whales lives and while we were looking at it he came out in a cab. He was another disappointment. He wore a beaver hat just like Pop's, and instead of having a scepter in his hands he carried an umbrella and a cigar; just the sort of man you'd expect to meet on Broadway any day of the year. Somehow it's hard to get used to the idea of a real live Prince wearing a beaver hat and carrying an umbrella, and it almost makes me sorry I came. I suppose if I could really find out how to go to Fairyland and should go there I'd find all the fairies dressed up in pea-jackets and sailor hats like most of the boys we see nowadays, and probably they'd be playing ball or riding bicycles instead of flying about on gossamer wings and swinging on cobwebs.

> I spoke to Pop about it, and he said it was because the Prince loved the people that he didn't dress up like Solomon. All the men feel that they've got to dress like the Prince of Whales and if he came out in a bathing suit and a blue plush smoking-cap on his head, every man in England and New York that wanted to be fashionable would do the same thing, and if he dressed as magnificently as he knew how, in a diamond-studded dress-suit and gold trousers, it would ruin everybody to go and do likewise. So he wears clothes that are within the reach of all, which I think is very nice of him, though I wish I could see him on Sunday when he puts on his best. Pop says the way the men imitate him is very funny. He says there was an actor once disguised himself as the Prince who went riding through the Park on a donkey with bells on its hoofs, and next day sixty-three of the most fashionable young men of London appeared the same way, and when they found out that they had been fooled they were so angry that they wouldn't go to that actor's theatre again, but everybody else thought it was such a good joke that they went and the actor made a fortune.

> I was going to tell you about the wax-works at Madame Tussaud's and the Zoo in this letter, but Pop says it's time for me to go to bed, because we are going to have a hard day to-morrow. We're going to take a coach and drive out to Hampton Court and back, so I'll have to close here. I wish you'd ask that Chicago boy if he's a grand-nephew of Baron Munchausen. I told Pop about that prairie-yacht and how Billie's seal-skin cap saved him from being scalped, and Pop was very much interested and said he thought he knew now who Billie was, and when I asked him who, he said the grand-nephew of Baron Munchausen, a man who never told the truth unless it was absolutely necessary.

Yours ever,
Bob.

> P. S.—I've just got out of bed for a minute to tell you that you never saw such monkies as they have at the Zoo. They look almost as human as some of our Aldermen in New York, Pop says.

[Pg 589]

E. W. MILLS.

The success of the New Manhattan Athletic Club in managing the recent in-door interscholastic games has suggested the possibility of having the club manage the National meet in June. This would be a very good scheme, if practicable, because experience has shown that hitherto the chief obstacle in the way of success for scholastic meetings has been poor business management.

It is not always possible for young men who have nearly all they can attend to at school to devote enough time to the business management of an athletic meeting to make it a thorough success; and it is therefore well, when possible, that this kind of work should be turned over to those who have more time and greater experience for the amount and kind of work required. The N.M.A.C. handled the recent games in a satisfactory way, and there is no reason to think that it would not carry out the plans for the National meet fully as well.

At the in-door games the club assumed the entire financial responsibility, and offered prizes besides; but the managers would naturally feel some hesitancy about doing the same thing for an out-of-door meeting, where the weather must have so much to do with the attendance. The constitution of the National Interscholastic Association stipulates, I believe, that the prizes in each event shall amount in value to $25. The N.M.A.C. would not care to saddle itself with the responsibility of offering thirteen or fourteen sets of $25 medals, besides paying the rental of the grounds and other incidental expenses; but I am informed on good authority that the club would be perfectly willing to assume the responsibility of securing grounds and of making all arrangements for advertising and management, as they did for the in-door games, at their own risk. Should there be any surplus after these expenses have been defrayed, this would go toward paying for the prizes—no set of medals to cost more than $25; and should there still be a surplus after that, the money would be turned over to the National Association's treasury. The club, I am sure, does not wish to make any profit out of the enterprise.

By such an arrangement, of course, there would be no shining medals on a table in the middle of the Berkeley Oval for the contestants to admire before they had been defeated in their events, and that would doubtless detract much from the interest in these games of our friends the medal-hunters; but on the other hand it would be a good thing if it could be announced that there would not be any medals on show that day, as this might keep these same medal-hunters off the grounds—which would be an advantage.

The prizes, as I have frequently said, are purely a secondary consideration; and even if there was not enough money left over, after all the expenses had been paid, to get anything better than ribbons, the success of the National Association would not suffer, for the games are not held for the purpose of distributing gold and silver disks, but for the purpose of encouraging amateur sport and to bring about meetings between the strongest athletes in the schools of the country. At the Olympic games which have just closed in Athens the victors received mere olive wreaths, but these wreaths are as precious to them as if they were of gold or precious stones. It is not the value of the wreath itself, it is what the faded leaves represent that the true sportsman cherishes.

H. J. Brown. O. Lorraine.
D. P. White. O. E. Robinson. C. M. Hall.
B. Kinney. E. L. Johnson. A. Robinson. S. L. M. Starr.
W. L. Van Wagenen. H. W. Goldsborough.
ST. PAUL'S TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM,
Winners of First Place at the N.M.A.C. Interscholastic Games, March 28, 1896.

It would not be fa[Pg 590]ir to ask the N.M.A.C. or any club to assume the responsibility for the rent of the grounds and other necessary expenses, and for the medals too. It is a sufficient risk for them to undertake to pay for the former, without going into jewelry. I hope the National Association's Executive Committee will see the advantage of having the games—their first venture—managed by a club or an association of older and more experienced men, and come to an understanding on some such lines as the N.M.A.C. may propose.

A number of letters have come to this Department recently asking for suggestions about the construction of hard tennis courts. There are several kinds of these, the gravel court being by far the best of all. A gravel court is laid out by first digging about fifteen or eighteen inches down and filling this hole with broken brick, stone, and other coarse rubbish to within six inches of the top. Then coarse gravel of any kind should be put on and well packed down with a hose. This layer should come up to within two inches of the top. The last two inches should be filled in with fine screened gravel, and if this will not bind, add a little clay. On top of all this put from one-eighth to one-quarter of an inch of the finest red gravel—just enough to give color to the court. If too much of this red gravel is put on it will not bind well. It soon wears off, and then more should be laid on, and after this has been done a few times a court will keep its color all summer.

The advantage of such a court is that it needs but little care. All you have to do is to sweep the gravel off occasionally, and water and roll it. A light roller is sufficient for this purpose, as it is expected to affect the top layer of the gravel only. The best way to mark out a gravel court is with an inch tape nailed down with tacks. Whitewash will not do, as it spreads. The least satisfactory kind of hard court is made of cinders. These pack fairly well; but a cinder court requires a great deal of care to keep in order, and is always a dirty place to play on, the balls becoming black after a few sets, and consequently useless.

In nearly every city of the Middle West high-school associations have been organized during the past year or so, and these associations have done much toward encouraging school sport, and toward making the contests among their members more systematic than they have been heretofore. In Wisconsin interscholastic football and baseball games have until recently been carried on in a haphazard fashion, without any special attempt toward the formation of a union that might properly recognize the claims to supremacy of the successful team.

Last fall, however, the initial steps toward placing all branches of sport on a sound and permanent basis were taken. The season of 1895 clearly showed the need of an organization, and in December representatives from the schools of all the principal cities of southern Wisconsin met in Milwaukee and formed the Southern Wisconsin Inter-High-school League. The purposes of the organization are to develop all kinds of athletic sports in the schools, and to encourage a friendly rivalry in the various contests among its members. It also aims to correct some abuses which have crept into interscholastic sport—abuses which always will creep into any kind of sport where there is no restriction of government or organization. The league is divided into four circuits, each embracing the cities located in a certain territory, and the team which carries off the honors in its own circuit contests for the State Championship with the leaders in the other circuits.

The constitution of the Wisconsin League, while placing many wise restrictions upon its members, leaves them free to arrange their own schedules of games and to manage their own affairs as may seem best and wisest to them. The league will open the season of 1896 with baseball and track athletics—the field day for the latter to be held in Madison on June 9th. The first interscholastic field day of the Wisconsin schools was held June 8th of last year, under the auspices of the Wisconsin University Athletic Association. Twelve high-schools were represented, and many good records were made, a brief account of which was given in this Department in Harper's Round Table for July 2, 1895. Much interest is being displayed now in the coming meeting, and doubtless even a better showing will be made than that of last season.

It is in football, however, that the various schools of the league expect to see developed the hardest struggle for the championship. Last fall, although no organization had been effected, the contest for first place was a hard one, and the interest aroused in the schools was intense. Madison High-school justly deserves to rank at the head of the scholastic teams of that section. Her eleven won every game played. In fact, M.H.-S. has only been defeated once in football since it put an eleven into the field, three years ago. Of the eighteen contests in which it has engaged only one was lost, and that to the strong team of the St. John's Military Academy, which ought not to be classed as a school team, or played against by school teams, so long as the academy authorities sanction the methods at present in vogue at Delafield. The reason for M.H.-S.'s good record rests, doubtless, in the fact that Madison is an enthusiastic football town, and the school team gets much valuable experience and benefit from playing against the university eleven.

The formation of the Twin-City Dual Interscholastic League, which was mentioned in this Department last week, was brought about by complications which arose in the league formerly composed of the St. Paul High, the Minneapolis High, and the Duluth High schools. The old league fell to pieces, and the new one was constructed on different lines, which promise to make the venture a success. I am glad to say that I was misinformed concerning the presence of the standing jumps on the card. Mr. George Cole is the President, Stewart J. Fuller, the Vice-President, George Angst, Secretary, and Chester H. Griggs, Treasurer. These young men have all been prominent for some time in interscholastic sport, and if they can control the policy of the league, it will doubtless earn a high standing among similar associations.

The organization does not aim to control track athletics only, but will also look after the football and baseball interests of the St. Paul and Minneapolis schools. Track athletics have only been taken up systematically for the past five years in these two cities, and yet the schools have made rapid strides in this short time, and have sent a number of clever men to Eastern colleges. The St. Paul High-School has perhaps done better than most of the schools in that section in sending good men East. Winters, the well-known Yale tackle, Cochran, the end-rusher, and Langford, the stroke of the present Yale crew, are all graduates of that institution.

The Inter-collegiate Association has stricken the bicycle race from the regular schedule of the spring games. It would be a very good thing if the New York and Brooklyn I.S.A.A.'s, and, in fact, if all interscholastic associations would follow their example. The New York and Brooklyn associations could combine and have a bicycle field day in the same week of the annual interscholastic meetings, or at any other time that might seem more convenient, and do away with the unpleasant bicycle event at the track-athletic meeting altogether.

I suggest that the New York and Brooklyn associations combine, because it seems to me that it would be more profitable, on account of the larger number of entries, the greater interest, and the greater attendance such a union would command. Should the bicycle event be stricken from the interscholastic card, an excellent substitute would be a relay race. Relay races, as I have frequently said within the past few weeks, are becoming more and more popular all over the country, and sooner or later the relay race will become a standard event on every track-athletic card. Therefore, the sooner the interscholastic managers recognize this fact and put the race on their schedules, the better. If the entries for the relay races are so numerous in an association as large as the New York or Boston I.S.A.A. it would be possible to have the preliminary heats run in the morning, and have only finals at the games in the afternoon. This is a matter well worthy of consideration.

The Graduate.

[Pg 591]

> This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Stamp Department.

Portugal announces a new set of commemorative stamps to be issued shortly. The designs have been accepted, but the colors and values of the stamps have not yet been decided upon. Nicaragua has issued a set of postage-stamps—1, 2, 5, 10, 20, and 50 centavos, 1, 2, 5 pesos. Also the same stamps surcharged "official." In addition, a new set of postage-due stamps—1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 30, and 50 centavos, all in orange color—and an "Officially Sealed" stamp in blue. Porto Rico has changed the colors on the current set of adhesives, thirteen stamps in all. Honduras has also just issued a new set. The Cuban Republic stamps, 2, 5,10, and 25 centavos, are sold by some of the smaller dealers.

All the above would probably come under the ban of the S.S.S.S. as unnecessary, and issued for revenue only. The work of eliminating or diminishing "speculative" stamps is very slow; but progress is steadily made, and the number of new issues during the past six months is less than the average.

> J. L. Hunter.—The coin is a French 5 centimes of 1856. No premium.

> H. Vaughn.—The probabilities are that the Cuban Republic stamps will be accepted by the great majority of collectors; but as yet the advanced philatelists will not admit them in their albums. They seem to me purely speculative, hence uncollectable. The $20 U.S. revenue is worth $1.50; the 24c. and 30c. War Departments are worth 50c. and 30c. respectively.

> F. B. Kingsbury.—Your coin is worth 6c.

> J. Schmidt.—The 24c. 1869 U.S., with reversed centre, is worth $100 if in good condition.

> G. B. Snider.—The only way the number of the sheet can be known is by the printed margin of the sheet. All the stamps on a sheet are identical.

> R. S. Chase, 30 Alumni Avenue, Providence, R. I., wishes to exchange stamps.

> R. F. T.—Stamps printed "Marca di Bolo" are Italian Revenues. The 25c. Venezuela 1892 are common; millions were printed and used.

> F. H. Horting, F. J. Wattson, D. W. Hardin.—The coins are common. No dealer would pay a premium on them, as he picks them up in the regular course of business at face value. When dealers sell they of course ask an advance on face. They have to pay rent, clerk hire, advertising, and their own living expenses.

> E. L. H.—The 8d. yellow New South Wales, 1860 issue, is worth 25c. The Canada 12-1/2c., 1868, is worth 18c.

> D. W. H.—The millennial stamps have not been accepted as collectable by the majority of philatelists; but, of course, that is a matter to be settled by each collector for himself.

Philatus.

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[Pg 592]

> This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recognizing the value of the work being done by the L. A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.

Continuing the journey from where it was left last week, proceed from Lyons westward up hill, turn left at the top, and proceed downward, over the canal, and thence, keeping to the right, cross the canal again, turn sharp left up a hill, and cross the bridge into Newark. This is eight miles from Lyons. The road, except at the hills, is in very good condition. Leaving Newark, take the second turn to the right and cross the canal, but instead of proceeding straight ahead towards East Palmyra, turn sharp to the left, and crossing the canal again, proceed to Fort Gibson, three miles further on. It is better to take this road and to proceed direct to Palmyra over the turnpike, which is reached at Fort Gibson by turning sharp to the right, than to pass through East Palmyra itself, though it is possible to take the direct road, which is somewhat shorter, and proceed through East Palmyra. From Palmyra run out over Main Street, using the side-paths and side-walks where available, until the yellow mills are reached, thence cross the canal, turning to the right, and keeping to the left, follow the turnpike to Macedon. Macedon is twenty-one miles from Lyons, and from this point the route to Rochester is easily followed. The road is in good condition, and the rider will find no difficulty in keeping to the road from Macedon to Pittsford, and thence to Rochester itself.

Entering Rochester, ride in through Monroe Avenue to Clinton Street, thence to East Main Street, where the Powers House will be easily found. Rochester is another place where there is great interest taken in bicycling. There are several good routes in the vicinity of the city. One of these is to Elmira, the route being to return, as already described, to Pittsford; thence proceed to Canandaigua, to Reed's Corners, Gorham, Ferguson's Corners, Penn Yan, Milo, Dundee, Rock Stream, Reading Centre, Watkins, Montour Falls, Mill Port, Pine Valley, Horseheads, into Elmira. This is a run of one hundred miles. Another run is to leave Rochester and run out to Sodus Bay, passing through West Webster, Webster, Union Hill, Ontario Centre, Ontario, Williamson, Sodus, and Alton, to Sodus Bay, a distance of thirty-nine miles. Another interesting but much shorter run is to proceed from Rochester out through Genesee Street to the end of the street, thence following the road along the banks of the Genesee River, through Buttermilk Hill, to Scottsville. Thence proceeding to Spring Creek Hotel, which is twenty-one miles from Rochester, you will get a good dinner for fifty cents. After dinner it will be interesting to go over the State Fish-hatcheries. There are several different routes of greater or less distance by which you may return to Rochester.

> Edward J. Brown.—There are several kinds of chain-cleaners, but none of them are of very much use. An ordinary rag that is clean, used with some care, is quite as effective as anything else.

> Note.—Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford, Connecticut in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814. Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in No. 820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia-Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City—First Stage in No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland—First Stage in No. 827; Second Stage in No. 828. New York to Boston—Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833. Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839. Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843. Philadelphia to Washington—First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth Stage in No. 847; Fifth Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849. City of Albany in No. 854; Albany to Fonda in No. 855; Fonda to Utica in No. 856; Utica to Lyons in No. 857.

[Pg 593]

> Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to hear from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.

### TIME-SAVING HINTS FOR THE AMATEUR.

When one has a quantity of aristo prints to mount which he does not intend to have burnished, he must be careful not to wet the face of the print, as it destroys the gloss imparted by the ferrotype plate. The usual method is to lay the print face down on a sheet of glass and paste it, cleaning the glass after each print has been mounted. A much simpler way is to take pieces of newspaper several sizes larger than the prints to be mounted, lay them in a pile on the table at the left hand, lay a print face down on the top piece of paper, paste it, and drop the piece of newspaper in the scrap-basket. Continue thus, using a fresh piece of paper for each print, till all the prints are mounted. The newspaper makes a good surface to paste on, as the print does not slip, as it does sometimes on the glass if not held very firmly. This way of pasting prints saves a great deal of time and trouble.

Before beginning to mount pictures trim each one and lay it on the card on which it is to be mounted. Some amateurs when mounting pictures always mark where the picture is to be placed on the card. This is not necessary, for the eye can be readily trained to see when a picture is straight if the picture itself is properly trimmed.

A simple arrangement for drying negatives is made by taking a stout wire, bending it in the middle at a right angle, and then bending the ends over to make short hooks, which clasp the edges of a plate. The wire should be bent close enough so that it is necessary to spring it a little to fit it to the plate. Put the wet side of the plate toward the wire, and set the plate on a shelf with the edge resting on the shelf, the wire supporting it somewhat after the fashion of an easel.

In filtering solutions, unless one has a fluted glass funnel, the filtering paper adheres to the glass and allows the liquid to pass through very slowly. A simple way to hurry the process is to fold the circle of filtering paper together, and then fold it from the centre back and forth like a fan. Crease the folds so that they will remain, and when put in the funnel there will be spaces between the glass and the paper through which the solution will run very quickly.

Films are quite inclined to curl both in the developing solution and in the fixing solution. This necessitates pushing them down into the fixing bath, and often causes much annoyance to the operator. If the hypo is put into a large glass tumbler the film may be curled round a bottle, and the bottle set in the tumbler of hypo, which will do away with any trouble of keeping the film down into the hypo. The bottle should be clean, and filled with water so that it will set flat in the tumbler.

> Sir Knight Frank Evans, Jun., 1116 Brown Street, Philadelphia, Pa., wishes to correspond with some of the Camera Club members. Sir Knight Frank says he has some good formulas which he would be pleased to send to the Camera Club. We shall be glad to have them and to publish them. Send full directions for use, please, and write on one side of the paper only.

> Sir Knight Ragean Tuttle, Auburn, Col., asks where to get the photographic supplies mentioned in the Round Table. They may be bought of any reliable dealer in photographic goods.

> Lady Mana M. Monahan, of Michigan, asks the address of a good school of photography. At Effingham, Ill., is a school of photography called Illinois College of Photography, where all the branches of photography are taught.

> Sir Knight Herschel F. Davis wants to know the right exposure for a moonlight view, with largest stop, and if it will blur the plate to include the moon in the picture. From a half-hour to an hour is the usual time given for a moonlight view, according to the brightness of the light. The moon may be included in the picture, and will not have a halo; but the moon, instead of being round, will make a longer or shorter streak on the plate, according to the length of time it is exposed, as, of course, with the motion of the earth and moon, it will have traversed quite a space in the course of an hour.

### A CHANCE FOR AN EXPERIMENT.

Have plants intelligence? Do they ever think? These are interesting questions that would have to be answered by the statement of an observer of the ways of pumpkins and melons. Says he: "Plants often exhibit something very much like intelligence. If a bucket of water, during a dry season, be placed a few inches from a growing pumpkin or melon vine, the latter will turn from its course, and in a day or two will get one of its leaves in the water."

We do not vouch for the truth of this, but if there be any young gardeners among the readers of the Round Table it might make an interesting experiment for them next summer when they are pursuing their avocation.

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U.S. Stamps and Coins. 8 dif. large cents, 50c.

#### R.M.P. Langzettel, Box 1125, New Haven, Conn.

## CARDS

The FINEST SAMPLE BOOK of Gold Beveled Edge, Hidden Name, Silk Fringe, Envelope and Calling Cards ever offered for a 2 cent stamp. These are GENUINE CARDS, NOT TRASH. UNION CARD CO., COLUMBUS, OHIO.

[Pg 594]

### A Swiss Wedding.

> We have lived in Switzerland for five years, and have, of course, seen a great many weddings among the people, but never one of those grand affairs which are the talk of a small town for weeks. Last autumn, while we were in Winterthur, we learned that a wedding was to take place in the "Stadtkirche," bride and bridegroom coming from two of the best old families. As both were millionaires (in francs, not dollars), people expected something magnificent, so we decided to go to the church to see what it would be like.

> There are no private church weddings in Switzerland. Every one who chooses may go to witness the ceremony, and the day we went the church was full of people of every description—ladies and gentlemen, as well as bareheaded peasants and children. It seems to me that one must have an enormous amount of courage to get married in Europe. The bride we saw had to submit to be stared at for a good hour in church, and even then she was not allowed to go off and rest.

> When we had waited patiently for about half an hour the clock struck one, the church doors were thrown open, the organ pealed forth a wedding march, and in came the bride on the bridegroom's arm. They walked up to the beautifully decorated altar, in front of which were the seats reserved for the wedding guests, and here they separated, the bride going to the places on the left of the aisle, the groom to those on the right.

> Then followed couple after couple, the ladies all in full evening dress, and each separated at the altar also. When they were all seated the minister preached a short sermon. Then the organ accompanied a song sung by the bride's sister. This was very beautiful, for there was also a violin obligato. Then the bridal couple stood up and were married, after which they again parted, going back to their seats. Some little children sang with the organ, and then the ceremony was over, but not the wedding.

> There was a grand dinner which lasted hours and hours, for between each course there was acting, or tableaux, or dancing, and it was not until late in the evening that the bride could depart on her wedding journey, and very tired she must have been. Some people go for long drives in the afternoon, if the day is beautiful. In this case they all go bareheaded and in open carriages. The peasants cannot always afford to drive, so simply take long walks, some to the country, but the general preference is for the town. Here they walk, two by two, through all the principal streets, going in at some confectioner's for something to eat, and enjoying themselves greatly. These brides generally dress in black with white veils (or none at all), and artificial flowers in their hair. The girls are always confirmed in black dresses in German Switzerland, and the poor people wear the same dresses for their weddings. A very thrifty custom, is it not? Swiss weddings may be very nice to Swiss people, but I, for my part, prefer American ones, and if I ever marry, I hope it will be in my own dear country.

Marian Greene, R.T.F.

### Cryptography.

> From very ancient times secret writing, known as cipher (from the Arabic sifr, "void"), or cryptography (from the Greek "hidden writing"), has been an important means of communication. In great national crises, where absolutely secret communication was necessary, it has saved much time and trouble. Charles I. wrote his famous letter to the Earl of Glamorgan in cipher, consisting of variously shaded and lengthened strokes of the pen. This letter was afterwards deciphered, and proved to be a concession to the Roman Catholics of Ireland, which, if generally known at the time, would have caused serious trouble. Lord Bacon also made frequent use of the cipher but even his ingenious methods have since been discovered.

> There are many methods. Perhaps the most common is the variety found in one of the Sherlock Holmes tales, where, in a seemingly plain, every-day sentence, words set at intervals give the hidden meaning. Poe's fascinating "Gold-Bug" is founded on the solution of one of Captain Kidd's cryptograms. One can readily construct a cipher requiring considerable effort to read. One of the best known for common purposes is the "Dial Cryptogram."

> A DIAL CRYPTOGRAM.

> On a six-inch square of card-board draw a circle containing twenty-seven parts. In each write one of the capital letters of the alphabet, including &. Also cut out a circle of card-board which exactly fits the circle on the square. It should be edged by twenty-seven spaces containing the small letters of the alphabet, including &. Place this disk on the square and drive a pin through the centre. Your correspondent having a similar dial, you are ready to write. Suppose your message is the following:

> The box containing the famous Marston-Endive ciphers has at last been found in a secret drawer of the billiard-room wainscoting. Yours, Kelpee.

> At the beginning you write the capital, and at the end the small letters which are opposite each other when you have arranged your dial. The inner circle is so placed, say, that T and m are opposite each other. Beginning your message with T, and closing with m you would have:

> T. may vhq whgmubgbg& may zufhnl fuklmhg-ygxboy wbiaykl aul um eulm vyyg zhngx bg u lywkym xkupyp hz may vbeebukx-khhf pubglwhmbg&. rhnkl dyeiyy. m.

> The stencil cryptogram is also a very good one, and is easily managed. Take two squares of paste-board, and at irregular intervals cut out narrow openings. Your correspondent being provided with one of the stencils, you place your own on a sheet of paper, and in the openings write your message. You then fill the intermediate spaces with any words that will connect the whole and make sense. Your correspondent places his stencil on the message—and the meaning is clear.

Vincent V. M. Beede.

### That Clever Kink.

Did you find out how much that nobleman was worth? The answer is:

£21,459. It is found by taking all of the letters in the passage quoted that are employed in the Roman notation—I, V, X, L, C, D, M—setting down their value in the Arabic notation, and adding all together.

### The Music Rack.

### Good Stories about Chopin.

> Frédéric François Chopin, born 1809, died 1849, very early showed his sensitiveness to music, when only a baby prevailing upon his parents to allow him to share the lessons given to his eldest sister. Many tales are told of his performances as a child, but perhaps the best is the one related by Karasowski, his biographer, of his appearance at a public concert for the benefit of the poor when he was not quite nine years old. He was announced to play Gyrowetz's piano-forte concerto, and a few hours before he was put on a chair, and there dressed with more than ordinary care, being arrayed in a new jacket with an ornamented collar specially ordered for the occasion. When the concert was over Frédéric returned to his mother, who had not been present; she asked him what the public liked best. "Oh, mamma, everybody looked only at my collar!" Little Frédéric could do almost anything he wished with the piano, and all his life, when in happy moods, he was fond of weaving fanciful fairy tales and romances in music so beautiful and real that the listeners were able to follow and understand by the mere tones alone.

> One evening his father was away, and there arose a tremendous hubbub among the pupils which the assistant master was quite powerless to quell. Frédéric came in, saw how things were, and good-naturedly sat down to the piano. Calling the other boys around him, he promised, if they kept quite still, to tell them a new and most thrilling story on the piano. This at once quieted them. Frédéric extinguished all the lights (for he was all his life fond of playing in the dark). Then he sat down to the piano and began his story.

> He described robbers coming to a house, putting ladders to the windows, and then, frightened by a noise, rushing away into the woods. They go on and on, deeper and deeper into the wild recesses of the forest, and then they lie down under the trees and soon fall asleep. He went on, playing more and more softly, until he found that the sleep was not only in his story, but had overcome his listeners. On this he crept out noiselessly to tell his mother and sisters what had happened, and then went back with them to the room with a light. Every one of the boys was fast asleep. Frédéric returned to the piano, struck some noisy chords, the enchantment was over, and all the sleepers were rubbing their eyes and wondering what was the matter.

Meredyth Jones, R.T.K.

### Kinks

### No. 1.—A Story.

It was a rainy day. George, spoiling for something to do, said: "Say, Fred, here's a question you can't answer within five minutes, or ten either. Wan' to try?"

"Yep."

"A lad, carrying a page of that circular to the printer who printed it, stubbed his toe. It hurt him so that he went to the same place the 'three wise men of Gotham' did, and almost lost his life, because that which ruins many a field of wheat was in his drinking water, and he couldn't drink it. But he put all three together, ate it, and saved his life. What did he eat?"

### No. 2.—Quinary.

"With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me —— to another fashion."

In the above lines of a famous poem the word which fills the blank is the last syllable of the five words described below.

1. By bonnie braes in Scotland old,
My notes are heard with love untold.
2. Tars in hours of well-earned leisure
With twinkling feet would tread my measure.
3. A man in love with rocks and ore
Can by my aid know Nature's lore.
4. I'm hollow, and of sable hue,
And cousin to the chimney flue.
5. When sadly off the proper key,
A friend in need you'll e'er find me.

### No. 3.—Heads and Tails.

Behead to censure, and leave to cripple; to gather, and leave to heat. Curtail to grieve for, and leave to fasten; a beverage, leave to beat; a damsel, and leave to succor; a color, and leave an edge. Behead the latter, and leave a quarrel. Curtail sly artifice, and leave a sledge; confusion, and leave an infant. Behead derision, and leave a grain; a flower, and leave a fluid; to study, and leave to gain.

Rita E. Boardman.

[Pg 595]

## THE PUDDING STICK.

> This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.

Arabella's home is in a pretty little town twenty-five miles from New York. It is a place much liked by people who have children to bring up, for the schools are good, and the air is a tonic to breathe. Arabella told me last September that she must earn some money this year, and relieve her father, who had quite enough to do in paying her tuition bills. "If I can only make enough to buy my shoes and gloves and pay for my postage stamps and my car fares, I will be satisfied," the dear girl said. As this is her last year at Miss ——'s school, and the work is very exacting, I am afraid she cannot accomplish her end; but Arabella has perseverance in large measure, and she is a plucky girl, besides being graceful and charming.

It happens that Arabella dances very well, and some of the mothers in her neighborhood wished their small tots to learn the steps. There was no teacher to be had for such babies, and so when my favorite girlie said they might come to her on Saturday afternoons and she would show them how to use their little feet in moving to measure, the mothers were delighted. Arabella's brother Will was obliging enough to bring his violin and furnish the music, and the class has been a great success, with the result that Arabella's pocket-book is very nicely filled.

Another and perhaps a more agreeable field for money-making is one which Lilian G—— has found, or rather into which Lilian walked one summer morning. On her way to school she had to pass the house of two very dear old ladies, who lived by themselves, and pottered about in a pretty old-fashioned garden. Miss Betsey and Miss Annie were fond of the bright girls who two or three times a day walked past their door on the way to and from their classrooms, and they had their favorites among them, often stopping Lily, for instance, and giving her a flower or two to fasten into her buttonhole.

One morning Lilian observed that Miss Betsey groped a little and felt about with her stick, instead of stepping briskly around the garden as she used to do.

"My sister," Miss Annie confided to her, "is growing blind. We went to Dr. N——yesterday, and he confirmed our fears. It is a cataract, and it cannot be operated on for a long time. What poor Betsey will do I don't know, for reading has been her great occupation and her one pleasure. I cannot read to her, for it hurts my throat to read aloud."

"Let me come every afternoon, dear Miss Annie," said Lilian. "I'll read to Miss Betsey from four to five every day, and on Saturdays I'll come twice—an hour in the morning and another in the afternoon. I can do it just as easily!"

Miss Annie's face lightened. "You sweet child!" she said. "If you will come, and your mother will let you come, Betsey and I will pay you two dollars a week for reading to us both."

The rest of this chapter must go over until next week.

Margaret E. Sangster.

The beauty of a bride's trousseau
Is something that it need not lose,
If only maid and laundress know,
That Ivory is the soap to use.

#### Copyrighted, 1896, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.

## HOOPING

## COUGH

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Can be cured

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### EMBROCATION

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Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. You can make money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder, Pads and Tweezers. Best Linen Marker; worth $1.00. Mailed for 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and catalogue of 1000 bargains. Same outfit with figures 15c. Outfit for printing two lines 25c. postpaid.

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## BOOKS FOR BOYS

### By THOMAS W. KNOX

#### The "Boy Travellers" Series

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#### ADVENTURES OF TWO YOUTHS—

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IN GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.
IN MEXICO.
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ON THE CONGO.
IN THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE.
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IN CENTRAL AFRICA.
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THE YOUNG NIMRODS IN NORTH AMERICA.
THE YOUNG NIMRODS AROUND THE WORLD.

## By KIRK MUNROE

### Snow-Shoes and Sledges

A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth." Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR:

THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH.—RAFTMATES.—CANOEMATES.—CAMPMATES.—DORYMATES. Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25.

WAKULLA.—THE FLAMINGO FEATHER.—DERRICK STERLING.—CHRYSTAL, JACK & CO. and DELTA BIXBY: Two Stories. Each one volume. Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, $1.00.

#### HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York

[Pg 596]

MAKING A BRONCHO OF IT.

Oh, Tommy had a Hobby-Horse, its gait was smooth and fair,
Till under it he placed some sticks, and made it buck and rair!

### THE STRANGE STORY OF A RING.

It is stated upon what appears to be good authority that in one of the parks in the Spanish capital city of Madrid a magnificent ring hangs by a silken cord about the neck of the statue of the Maid of Almodma, the patron saint of Madrid. This ring, though set with diamonds and pearls, is nevertheless entirely unguarded. The police pay no attention to it, nor is there any provision made for watching it by special officers, because it is not believed that any thief, however daring, would venture to appropriate it to his own use; and when the history of the ring is considered, it is hardly to be wondered at that a superstitious people prefer to give it a wide berth. According to the story that is told of it, the ring was made for King Alfonso XII., the father of the present boy King of Spain. Alfonso presented it to his cousin Mercedes on the day of their betrothal. How short her married life was all know; and on her death the King presented the ring to his grandmother, Queen Christina. Shortly afterwards Queen Christina died, and the King gave the ring to his sister, the Infanta del Pilar, who died within the month following. The ring was then given to the youngest daughter of the Duc de Montpensier. In less than three months she died, and Alfonso, by this time fearing that there was some unlucky omen connected with the bauble, put it away in his own treasure-box. In less than a year the King himself died, and it was deemed best to put the ring away from all the living. Hence it was hung about the neck of the bronze effigy of the Maid of Almodma, where it appears to be as safe as though surrounded by a cordon of police.

### A CURIOUS REQUEST.

In a Scottish church in Argyleshire the minister one Sunday morning astonished some strangers in the congregation by requesting the young men in the rear pews to smoke, "because the midges were so thick the services could not go on unless they were smoked out." The young men acceded to the request, and soon the obnoxious insects were driven away. It is said that this same clergyman once gave out a notice that upon a certain evening service would be held in the church, "weather and midges permitting."

### YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD.

Last year my fam'ly went abroad an' travelled all aroun',
An' saw 'most all ther' wuz to see in ev'ry for'n town.
They didn' stop much more'n a day or two in any place,
But jus' rushed on as if they'd been a-runnin' in a race.
They took me 'long, and must ha' made me walk a thousand miles
Through gal'ries and palaces of a hundred diff'rent styles.
They wouldn' stop at toy-stores, or take me out to see
The soldiers drillin' in the park, or th' wild m'nageriee.
Ther' wuzn't any fun fer me in all that sort o' thing—
'Cause, what'd I care 'bout lookin' at th' pictures o' the king?
There was one place in Switz'rland where I did have some fun
(If 't hadn't ben fer ol' Loocern I dunno what I'd done!).
The fam'ly'd all gone off ter climb a mountain in a train,
An' left me with the hotel man 'til they got back again.
I went out in the garden, in the afternoon, to play,
An' found another boy out there—been lef' behind, same way.
He said he wuz an English boy—an' I said mighty quick,
"I'm an American boy, young kid, no English boy can lick!"
So then he got to boastin' 'bout the things th't he could do,
An' said his school wuz bigger'n mine, which I said wuzn't true.
He said he had an uncle was a nobleman—a Duke;
I tol' him 's how them fam'ly things was jus' a kind o' fluke.
"Well, England's got more soldiers than th' Americans ever had!"
"But we can lick 'em ev'ry time!" That made him awful mad.
"An' England's got a lot of ships, an' guns, an' cannon-balls...."
"But you 'ain't got nothin' half so good as our Niag'ra Falls!"
"You don't have 's many holidays," went on the little fool;
"On Guy Fawks day American boys all have to go to school."
So I ran up an' said, "You red-coat British kid," says I,
"There's one day you don't celebrate, an' that's the Fourth of July!"
An' by that time I'd got so mad with all his monkey-trickin',
I jus' sailed in an' guv that English boy a good sound lickin'.
Albert Lee.

ANIMAL AMENITIES.

A Black Bear met a Gray Fox, and to him remarked, "Good-day,
It seems to me you're rather young to be so very gray."

### FOOTNOTES:

[1] Begun in Harper's Round Table No. 857.

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