Chapter XIV: Bonny's Invention, and How It Worked (1)

Bonny walked aft, exchanged a few words with Captain Duff, and then disappeared in the cabin, where he remained for some minutes. When he again came on deck he bore a box in which was a lighted lamp provided with a bright reflector. Only one side of the box was open, and this space the lad carefully shielded with his hat. The sloop was just entering Colros Passage, between Vashar Island and the mainland, and was nearer the western shore than the other.

Holding his box as far down as he could reach over the landward side of the vessel, Bonny turned its opening toward the shore, and allowed the bright light to stream from it for a single second. Then by quickly reversing the box the light was made to disappear. A moment later it was shown again, this time with a piece of red glass held in front of the lamp. This red light, after appearing for a single second, was also made to vanish, and another quick flash of white light took its place. A minute or so later the whole operation was repeated, and the white, red, and white signal was again flashed to the wooded shore. At the fourth time of displaying the signal it was answered by two white flashes from the shore.

There was a moment of suspense, and then Bonny exclaimed, in a low tone, "Great Scott! They're after us!"

Extinguishing his light, he again dived below, this time into the forecastle. When he reappeared he bore the float and lighted lantern already described. Alaric had noticed this queer contrivance the day before, and while wondering at its object, had amused himself by idly scribbling on a smooth shingle that he found inside the tub. Now this same shingle was hastily lashed to the lantern, and the whole affair was launched overboard. At the same time the sloop was put about, and leaving this decoy light floating and bobbing behind her as though it were in a boat, she sped away toward the eastern side of the channel.

When Bonny rejoined Alaric at the lookout station he asked, with a chuckle: "What do you think of that for a scheme, Rick? It's my own invention, and I've been longing for a chance to try it every trip; but this is the very first time we have needed anything of the kind. I only hope the light won't get blown out, or the whole business get capsized before the beaks capture it. My! how I'd like to see 'em creeping up to it, and hear their remarks when they find out what it really is!"

"What does all this flashing of lights and setting lanterns adrift mean, anyway?" asked Alaric, who was much puzzled by what had just taken place.

"Means there's a revenue-boat of some kind waiting for us in the channel, and that we are dodging him. The lights I showed made our private signal, and asked if the coast was clear. Skookum John didn't get on to 'em at first, or maybe he wasn't in a safe place for answering. When he saw us and got the chance, though, he flashed two lights to warn us of trouble. Three would have meant 'All right, come ahead'; but two was a startler. It was the first time we've had that signal; also it's the first chance I've had to test my invention."

Ever since leaving the dancing light Bonny had not been able to take his eyes from it, so anxious was he to discover whether or not it served the purpose for which it was intended. It grew fainter and smaller as the sloop gained distance on her new course. Then all at once it seemed to rise from the water, and an instant later disappeared.

"They've got it, and lifted it aboard," cried Bonny, delightedly; and in his exultation he called out, "The beaks have doused the glim, Cap'n Duff!"

"Douse your tongue, ye swab, and keep your eyes p'inted for'ard!" was the reply muttered out of the after darkness.

"What an old bear he is!" muttered Alaric, indignantly.

"Yes; isn't he?--a regular old sea bear? But I don't mind him any more than I would a rumble of imitation thunder. I say, though, Rick, isn't this jolly exciting?"

"Yes," admitted the other, "it certainly is."

"And you want me to quit it for some stupid shore work that'll make a fellow think he's got about as much life in him as a clam?"

"No, I don't; for I am certain there are just as exciting things to be done on shore as at sea, and if you'll only promise to come with me, I'll promise to find something for you to do as exciting as this, and lots honester."

"I've a mind to take you up," said Bonny, "and I would if I thought you had any idea how hard it is to find a job of any kind. You haven't, though, and because you got this berth dead easy you think you'll have the same luck every time. But we must look sharp now for another light from Skookum John."

By this time the sloop had again tacked, and was headed diagonally for the western shore.

"Who is Skookum John?" asked Alaric.

"Skookum? Why, he's our Siwash runner, who is always on the lookout for us, and keeps us posted."

"What is a Siwash?"

"Well, if you aren't ignorant! 'Specially about languages. Why, Siwash is Chinook for Indian. There's his light now! See? One, two, three. Good enough! We've given 'em the slip once more, and everything is working our way."

As it grew lighter Bonny pointed out the now distant masts of the cutter they had so successfully passed a short time before, and said, with a cheerful grin: "There's the old kettle that thought she could clip the _Fancy_'s wings, and bring her to with a round turn."

Captain Duff laid all the blame of their late arrival on poor Alaric.

"If it hadn't been for your fool antics of two nights ago," he said, "we'd made this port a good hour afore sun this morning. You're as wuthless as ye look, and ye look to be the most wuthless young swab I ever had aboard ship, barring one. He was another just such white-faced, white-handed, mealy-mouthed specimen as you be. Couldn't eat ship's victuals till I starved him to it, and finally got me into the wust scrape of my life. Now I shouldn't be one mite surprised if you'd put me into another hole mighty nigh as deep. So you want to quit your nonsense and 'tend strictly to business, or I'll make ye jump. D'ye hear?"

Alaric acknowledged that he heard, and then walked forward to light the galley fire.

The sloop rounded a long point and came to anchor in a wooded cove, apparently as wild as though they were its discoverers. A couple of Chinamen, who had evidently camped there all night, waited to greet their countrymen on the beach, to which Bonny at once began to transfer his passengers, a few at a time, in the dinghy. As fast as they were landed they were led back into the woods and started toward Tacoma, which was but a few miles distant.

Alaric managed to get his canvas bag on deck unseen by Captain Duff, and slip it into the dinghy as the boat was about to make its last trip.

"Hide it on shore for me, Bonny," he said.

"All right; I will if you'll promise not to skip until we've had another talk on the subject."

"Of course I promise; for I'm not going without you."

"Then perhaps you won't go at all," laughed Bonny.

So the bag was taken ashore and concealed in a thicket a little to one side, and Bonny came back to prepare breakfast, for which Alaric had the water already boiling.

When this meal was nearly ready, and as the boys were sniffing hungrily at the odors of coffee and frying meat, Captain Duff suddenly appeared on deck.

"Go up on that point, you foremast hand--I can't remember your thundering name--and watch the cutter while me and the mate eats. After that one of us'll relieve ye. Ef she moves, or even shows black smoke, you let me know, d'ye hear?"

Alaric managed to secure a couple of hard biscuits with which to comfort his lonely watch, and then Bonny set him ashore.

Picking up his bag and carrying it with him, the boy clambered to the point, and selecting a place from which he could plainly see the cutter, began his watch, at the same time munching his dry biscuit with infinite relish. Much of the water intervening between him and the cutter was hidden from view by nearby undergrowth, and the necessity for scanning it never occurred to him.

After a while Bonny came to relieve him and allow him to go to breakfast.

"Have you really made up your mind to desert the ship?" asked the young mate, noticing that Alaric had his bag with him.

"Yes, I really have," answered the other, "and you will come with me, won't you, Bonny?"

"I don't know," replied the latter, undecidedly. "Somehow I can't make it seem right to desert Captain Duff and leave him in a fix. Seems to me we ought to stay with him until he gets back to Victoria, anyway. Besides, I'd lose my wages, and there must be nearly thirty dollars due me by this time. But you go along to your breakfast, and after that we'll talk it all over. Haven't seen anything, have you?"

"No, not a sign, but-- Hello! What's that?"

"Caught, as sure as you're born!" cried Bonny, in a tone of suppressed excitement.

Then the two lads, peering through the bushes, watched a boat, flying the flag of the United States Revenue Marine and filled with sturdy bluejackets, enter the cove and dash alongside the smuggler _Fancy_.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A HOMELY WEED WITH INTERESTING FLOWERS.

BY W. HAMILTON GIBSON,

AUTHOR OF "HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS," "SHARP EYES," "PASTORAL DAYS," ETC.

The recent article from my pen on the "Riddle of the Bluets," and which showed the important significance of its two forms of blossoms, suggests that a few more similar expositions of the beautiful mysteries of the common flowers which we meet every day in our walks, and which we claim to "know" so well, may serve to add something to the interest of our strolls afield. It is scarcely fair to assert that familiarity can breed contempt in our relations to so lovely an object as a flower, but certain it is that this every-day contact or association, especially with the wild things of the wood, meadow, and way-side, is conducive to an apathy which dulls our sense to their actual attributes of beauty. Many of these commonplace familiars of the copse and thicket and field are indeed like voices in the wilderness to most of us. We forget that the "weed" of one country often becomes a horticultural prize in another, even as the mullein, for which it is hard for the average American to get up any enthusiasm, and which is tolerated with us only in a worthless sheep pasture, flourishes in distinction in many an English or Continental garden as the "American velvet plant."

The extent of our admiration often depends upon the relative rarity of the flower rather than upon its actual claims to our appreciation. The daisy which whitens our meadows--the "pesky white-weed" of the farmer--we are perfectly willing to see in the windrows of the scythe or tossed in the air by the fork of the hay-maker. The meed of our appreciation of the single blossom becomes extremely thin when spread over a ten-acre lot. How rarely do we see a bouquet of daisies on a country table? And yet, strange inconsistency! the marguerite of our goodwife's window-garden, almost identical with the daisy and not one whit prettier, is a prize, because it came from the "florist's," and cost twenty-five cents, with five cents extra for the pot.

A certain thrifty granger of the writer's acquaintance was recently converted from the error of his attitude toward the "tarnal weeds and brush." He was one of the tribe of blind, misguided vandals who had always deemed it his first duty "after hayin'" to invade with his scythe all the adjacent roadside, to "tidy things up," reducing to most unsightly untidiness that glorious wild garden of August's floral cornucopia, that luxuriant tangle of purple eupatorium, the early asters, goldenrod, vervains, wild-carrot, and meadow-rue.

He was converted in the sanctuary, where one August Sabbath he beheld by the side of the pulpit, dignified by a large beautiful vase, a great bouquet of this very tall purple thoroughwort, meadow-rue, and wild-carrot of his abomination, and which had actually fallen before his scythe on the evening previous. "Well, there!" he exclaimed; "I didn't realize they _was_ so pretty!"

The beauty of the commonplace often requires the aid of the artist as its interpreter, a fact which Browning realized when he expressed, through Fra Lippo Lippi:

"We're made so that we love
First when we see them painted, things which we have passed
Perhaps a hundred times, nor cared to see."

An illustration of the truth of this axiom was afforded in a recent incident in my experience. Sitting at the open window of my country studio one summer day, engaged in making a portrait of a common weed, a friendly farmer, chancing "across lots," seeing me at work, sauntered up to "pass the time o' day." As he leaned on the window-sill his eye fell upon the drawing before me.

"My!" he exclaimed, "but ain't that pooty?"

"What!" I retorted, "and will _you admit_ that this drawing of a _weed_ is pretty?"

"Yes, your _draft_ thar is pooty, but you artist fellers alliz makes 'em look pootier 'n they _ought_ to."

So much for the mere attributes of manifest outward beauty without regard to consideration of "botany" or the structural beauty of the flowers. The "botanist" finds beauty everywhere, even among the homeliest of Flora's hosts. But in the light of the "new botany," which recognizes the insect as the important affinity of the flower--the key to its various puzzling features of color, form, and fragrance--every commonest blossom which we thought we had "known" all our lives, and every homely weed scarce worth our knowing, now becomes a rebuke, and offers us a field of investigation as fresh and promising as is offered by the veriest rare exotic of the conservatory; more so, indeed, because these latter are strangers in a strange land, and divorced from their ordained insect affinities. The plebeian daisy now becomes a marvel of a flower indeed--five hundred wonderful little mechanisms packed together in a single golden disk. The red clover refuses to recognize us now unless properly introduced by that "burly bumblebee" with which its life is so strangely linked.

The barn-yard weeds need no longer be considered uninteresting and commonplace, because their mysteries have not yet been discovered, and I can do no better in my present chapter than to select one of their number and redeem it from its hitherto lowly place among them--one of the homeliest of them all, and whose blossoms are scarce noticed by any one except a botanist.

In my initial illustration is shown a sketch of the Figwort, or scrophularia, a tall spindling weed, with rather fine luxuriant leaves, it is true, but with a tall, curiously branching spray of small insignificant purplish-olive flowers, with not even a perfume, like the mignonette, to atone for its plainness. But it has an _odor_ if not a perfume, and it has a nectary which secretes the beads of sweets for its pet companion insects, which in this instance do not happen to be bees or butterflies, but most generally wasps of various kinds, as these insects are not so particular as to the quality of their tipple as bees are apt to be. But the figwort has found out gradually through the ages that _wasps_ are more serviceable in the cross-fertilization of its flowers than other insects, and it has thus gradually modified its shape, odor, and nectar especially to these insects.

Let us then take a careful look at these queer little homely flowers, and for the time being consider them as mere devices--first, to insure the visit of an insect, and second, to make that insect the bearer of the pollen from one blossom to the stigma of another. Here we see a flower with three distinct welcomes on three successive days.

A FLOWER WITH THREE WELCOMES.

The flower bud usually opens in the morning, and shows a face as at A, which must be fully understood by looking at the side section shown at A¹.

The anthers and pollen are not yet ripe, but the stigma is ready, and now guards the doorway. To-morrow morning we shall see a new condition of things at that doorway, as seen at B and B¹. The stigma has now bent down out of the way, while two anthers have unfolded on their stalks and now shed their pollen at the threshold. The third morning, or perhaps even sooner, the other pair come forward, and we see the opening of the blossom as at C. Blossoms in all these three conditions are to be found on this cluster.

A small wasp is now seen hovering about the flowers, and we must now turn our attention to him as seen in Figs. 1, 2, and 3. The insect alights, we will assume, on a blossom of the second day (Fig. 1), clinging with all his feet, and thrusting his tongue into the heads of nectar shown at A¹ and B¹. He now brings his breast or thorax, or perhaps the under side of his head, against the pollen, and is thoroughly dusted with it. Leaving the blossom, we see him in flight, as at Fig. 2, and very soon he is seen to come to a freshly opened flower, which he sips as before. The pollen is thus pushed against the projecting stigma, as shown at Fig. 3, and thus, one by one, the flowers are cross-fertilized.

The stigma, after receiving pollen, immediately bends downward and backward, as shown in B¹, to give place to the ripening anthers, and shortly after the last pair of them have shed their pollen, the blossom, having then fulfilled its functions, falls off, as shown at D. This may be on the afternoon of the third day, or not until the fourth. If not visited by insects it may chance to remain the longer time; but more than one tiny wasp gets his head into such a blossom, and is surprised with a tumble, his weight pulling the blossom from its attachment.

The result of that pollen upon the stigma is quickly seen in the growing ovary or pod, which enlarges rapidly on the few succeeding days, as in E.

Many species of hornets and wasps, large and small, are to be seen about the figwort blooms, occasionally bees, frequently bumblebees, which usually carry away the pollen on the under side of their heads.

Who shall any longer refer to the figwort as an "uninteresting weed"?

GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES.

CALIFORNIA GOLD-HUNTERS.

"It seems to me, Grandpop, that you have had every kind of exciting experience except a fight with Indians," said Ralph Pell.

Captain Sterling laughed. "Don't be so sure that I haven't had that kind thrown in too by way of variety, my boy," answered the old sailor.

Ralph was all agog in an instant. "There, Grandfather, I know you must have a story to tell about them, or you wouldn't answer me in that way; so please tell it, and I'll learn to box the compass backwards to-morrow to repay you," cried the eager lad.

"All right, Ralph," was the pleased rejoinder; "it's a bargain. And now for my yarn:

"When the California gold fever set the world aflame 'way back in '49, I caught the craze, and determined to dig a big fortune out of old Mother Earth in short order, instead of reefing topsails in winter gales of wind and chewing upon salt junk for a living; so I shipped in a big vessel named the _San Juan_, that had loaded mining-tools for a cargo, and set sail for the Golden Gate.

"Three months after leaving New York we dropped anchor off San Francisco; but it was not then the great city of to-day, with thousands of noble buildings, paved streets, and electric lights, but a town of tents and hovels thrown together on either side of rough wagon-tracks, and these streets were only here and there faintly lit up at night by the sickly glow of smoky lamps and tallow candles that shone out from the open doorways and the turned-back flaps of dirty canvas huts.

"Although all hands had considerable money due them in the way of wages, it was counted as nothing compared with the bags of gold nuggets that we confidently expected to possess later on, so we all dropped overboard one night while the officers were asleep, and swam ashore. Each man had carefully retained a portion of the advance money paid to him before sailing, in order to buy a shovel, pickaxe, and provisions, and as the miners' stores always remained open until late at night, we supplied ourselves with what we required immediately after landing, and by sunrise were well on our way into the interior, safe from pursuit and capture as deserters.

"Our outfit was the most meagre, but it had taken every cent we had to purchase it, for pickaxes and shovels were five dollars each, and the provisions, which were of the poorest quality, were paid for at a corresponding price.

"There was no mistaking the way to the gold regions, for the trail was defined clearly enough in the way of broken-down and abandoned wagons of every variety, while small straggling parties and large organized companies either passed or were passed by us every few miles. Everybody and everything was colored with the magic suggestion of gold; even the atmosphere seemed to taste of the precious yellow metal, and there was but one thought, one ambition, one incessant subject of conversation from the gray-haired man to the youngster trotting along by his side, and that was _gold! gold! gold!_

"At last, after many hardships, we reached the gold country, where thousands of men, representing almost every nationality, were feverishly digging into the soil, sifting the sands of river-beds, and picking into the rocky sides of mountains, extracting the wealth that had been zealously hoarded by nature since the beginning of the world.

"It would make too long a story if I attempted to tell you of our work, our hopes, disappointments, and success. From one cause or another we kept separating, some to plunge deeper into the fastnesses of the mountains, some to associate with new partners, and others to try their fortunes alone. At last I found myself paired off with a man who had been my chum on board the _San Juan_--a manly young fellow, as brave as he was clever, and with whom I shared all the danger, trouble, and fortune that were met with during the time that we remained in the country.

"We tried every kind of work in the way of digging, washing, and searching for pockets in the rocks, treasuring our little finds carefully, and holding on to them as long as we could; but living of the cheapest kind was expensive, and in spite of all our frugality the store of gold in the leather belt-bags that we carried strapped about us would ebb and flow about as regularly as the ocean tides. Often would we work from sunrise to sunset, and then find ourselves rewarded by only just enough gold dust to exchange at the sutler's tent for a little flour and a piece of bacon on which to make our supper, while perhaps the men on either side of us had 'struck it rich,' and before our covetous eyes would exhibit a handful of yellow lumps or a tin cup brimming to the top with golden flecks of metal.

"One night as we sat rather disconsolate on a ledge of rock just outside the cave in which we kept house, and which we had dug for ourselves in the side of a steep hill, Jim Richards, my partner, exclaimed:

"'Luck's against us here, Sterling, and I'm for cutting loose and trying it back in the mountains, where we won't find ten men to every picayune bit of metal. What do you say?'

"'That's all right about the men part of it, Richards,' I answered, 'but how about Indians? They don't trouble us down here because we're too many for them; but wouldn't they make things rather lively for us back there?'

"We talked the subject over pretty thoroughly, and at last decided to risk our scalps. In the morning we parted with our entire stock of gold in exchange for two rifles, some ammunition and provisions; then shouldering our picks, we struck out for the range of mountains off in the eastward, whose summits could be faintly seen through the blue haze that enveloped them.

"For several weeks we worked unmolested, seeing nothing of the hostile red men; and it seemed that fortune, having become tired of remaining in hiding, at last condescended to show us her fickle, smiling face, for we discovered quite a few modest pockets, from which we took varying numbers of pure golden lumps, and our weighty, bulging belts became at times the subject of our laughing complaints. But the weather had commenced to grow cold, and we were warned by it that winter was approaching and that our work must soon end. While fortune lasted, however, we were reluctant to leave, and kept postponing our departure from day to day. At last one morning Jim came creeping back within the shelter that we had made, telling me to throw off my blanket and look out. The ground was covered with a white mantle, and the flakes continued to fall. There was only one thing to do, and that was to be done quickly. Before all landmarks were gone we were to get out of the mountains, and make all haste to the mining camp twenty miles away. We left our tools behind us, and rapidly made our way down the valley that emerged into a plain, and ten miles across which our old camp was to be reached.

"As we rounded a spur of rock, Jim, who was in the lead, stopped so suddenly that I pitched up against him. There was no necessity to ask for an explanation. Not more than fifty yards ahead of us several Indian tepees were erected, and from around the poles at their tops smoke was curling, showing that the savages were keeping warm beside the fires kindled within the tents.

"We walked backward until the spur of rock was again between us and our foes, and with fast-beating hearts discussed the situation. There was no escape from the valley except through the pass in which the Indians were camped. If we turned back, it was to die of cold and want in the mountains. Jim crept forward and peered around the ledge. Finding that the redskins were yet within their tepees, we decided on the daring plan of stealing past them and gaining the plain, which we could see a short distance beyond, trusting that the snow would not allow our foot-falls to be heard.

"Holding our breath, we commenced our hazardous way through the little village. We had reached the last tepee undiscovered, when a chorus of yelps told us that the Indian dogs had at last detected our presence. As we broke into a mad run a series of savage war-whoops was all the knowledge we wanted that the fiends were after us.

"'Get out on the plain!' yelled Jim. 'It's our best chance!'

"We made the best of our little start, covering the snow-carpeted ground like hunted deer, and reached the open just as a flight of arrows struck all about us. Suddenly Jim stopped, wheeled about, and discharged his rifle, toppling over the foremost Indian. I was about to follow suit when my companion cried out to me to hold my fire until he loaded, for if the redskins knew that both guns were empty they would come on and cut us down while we were helpless, whereas being armed with bows and arrows only, they were at a disadvantage, and could be held off if we played our game skilfully.

"Never will I forget that ten-mile retreat over the field of snow, holding the bloodthirsty crew at a distance as they circled about us with cries of rage, trying every artifice known to their warfare to get us in their power. More than one reckless warrior went down in the attempts they made, and it was not until the camp was almost reached that they left us.

"'Sterling,' said Jim to me that night, as we sat as guests within the shelter of a miner's hut, 'I think I've got enough of gold-hunting. I'm going back to the States.'

"'Jim,' I replied, 'you're not going alone.'"

A BRAVE YOUNG SCHOOL-TEACHER.

In a town in the Rockies, a short while ago, a young girl, who taught in the little school-house of the place, performed an act of heroism worthy of the highest commendation. One of her small scholars had a pet antelope, a sweet, docile, little creature, that followed its mistress to school, remaining quietly near the door during class hours. One day it lay as usual near the door, lazily basking in the sunlight, while the children pored over their studies. Suddenly there came a light thud and a scream. There, with his fore feet crushing the little creature, crouched a big mountain-lion, savagely switching his tail from side to side, and eying the children. The little tots, screaming wildly, ran to the furthest corner, huddling there in a heap.

The teacher, although pale with fear, did not for a moment lose her nerve, but searched the room for some means of rescuing her little scholars. Hanging on the wall near the door was a shot-gun, and she determined to obtain it, although to do so she had to pass the lion. Summoning all her courage, she advanced down the room, facing the savage beast, who stopped tearing at the antelope and growled ominously. Nothing deterred in her purpose, however, she passed by him and took the gun from off the pegs. The lion turned his head, and curiously watched her as she retreated up the room again. The gun being empty, it was necessary to return to her desk to procure some shells and load it. Savage with blood, the lion left the antelope, and prepared to spring upon the group of children. He made one leap over the benches, which landed him in front of the teacher's desk, and his eyes catching sight of her, he changed his purpose, and swinging around, was about to spring upon her. Noticing this, the teacher, who had been watching for a good opportunity to shoot, instead of waiting for him to make the leap, walked quickly up to him, and before the astonished brute could recover she placed the muzzle of the gun in his ear and pulled both triggers. The recoil knocked her over, and she fell to the floor senseless. The gun did its work, however, for the lion's head was almost blown to pieces, and the brute lay a quivering heap on the floor. The children ran screaming down the road, and men hastened to the school-house, to find the brave girl recovered, but wildly trembling. After learning the circumstances, they seized a chair, and seating the girl in it, carried her, with the dead lion, through the town, cheering and praising her brave act.

FREDDY'S FIRST-OF-APRIL RESOLUTIONS.

"One by one our good old customs are going to the wall,"
Said little Fred, "and pretty soon we'll have none left at all;
So I'm going to keep All-Fools' day, just because I think we should
Not idly let it lapse into innocuous desuetude.

"I'm going to see that father gets a paper one year old;
The napkins I am going to pin up tight in every fold;
The sugar I shall mix with salt, and see that Bridget bakes
Some batter-covered flannel disks to serve for griddle-cakes.

"A purse upon the sidewalk then quite unobserved I'll fling,
And when folks stoop to pick it up I'll yank it with a string.
I've cut a lot of strips of cloth to pin to passers-by,
And every pompous man I see I'll make look like a guy.

"Beneath a battered ancient 'tile' I'll slyly place a brick
To stub the toes of thoughtless men who give a passing kick;
I'm going to tell the teacher a new boy has come to school,
And when he asks the pupil's name I'll call out 'April Fool!'

"I think a little nonsense of this harmless home-made kind
Is just as good for growing boys as some that's 'more refined,'
Affected by the modern race of little school-boy prigs
Who look with scorn on tag and tops and kites and Guinea pigs."

H. G. PAINE.

BY GASTON V. DRAKE.

X.--FROM JACK TO BOB.

MOUNTAIN HOUSE, _July_ --, 189-.

My Dear Bob,--We fellers had that mass-meeting to complain about
the eagle-eyed head-waiter that won't let us take all the nuts and
raisins we want out of the hotel dining-room, but the proprietor
won't discharge him because he doesn't dare to. The trouble is the
head-waiter isn't like other head-waiters you meet. Head-waiting
isn't his regular business. He's a college man and he pays for his
education with what he makes here in the summer-time, and as he's
centre rush in his college football team the proprietor's afraid of
him. I knew the minute I saw him that he was something of that
sort, because his hair reaches down over his collar, and he said
something about me in Latin once; and I heard him tell one of his
college mates that came through here on a bicycle that the place
wasn't perfect. "They haven't any nats or merskeeters," he said,
"but it swarms with small boys that's worse."

He isn't so bad though when he isn't on duty. He told me a lot
about things you learn studying one day when I met him coming down
the road. He'd been out taking a little exercize on a bicycle. I
had my wheel out too, and we rode along a little ways together, and
he asked me if I was going to college. I told him of course I was,
and he wanted to know where, and I told him I didn't know, but I
thought I'd go to Yale if she didn't stop winning everything there
was going. I want to be on the winning side, I said. That's a good
idea, he said, everybody ought to want to do that, but of course
everybody couldn't, because if everybody was on the winning side
nobody'd be on the losing side, which would be a bad thing for the
world. He's a queer fellow, the way he looks at things. He said
bicycling up hill was always more fun than coasting, because when
you got to the top of the hill you were glad it was over, while
when you had coasted to the foot of it you were sorry it was all
over. It's the same way in football, he said. There's more fun in
getting beaten in a stiff game than winning in a walkover. And then
he told me to always take a man of my own size.

"Why don't you?" said I. "I'm not a man of your size, but you've
been fighting me about those nuts and raisins I take away."

He only laughed when I said that, and then he said he took 'em away
from me because he wanted me to be a man of his size some day,
which I wouldn't be if I eat so many nuts and raisins, and I guess
he's right, and I told him I'd quit. When I got back to the hotel I
told that Chicago boy about it, and he said he didn't take any
stock in head-waiters, and he wasn't going to quit for ten of 'em,
but that night he wished he had, because just to be brave as he put
it, he slipped three bananas, two oranges, six bunches of raisins,
two handsful of nuts, and a peach into his blouse, but the
head-waiter caught him and took him straight to his Pop. His Pop
turned him upside down, took him by the heels and gave him a shake,
and all the things tumbled out on the floor, so that now he's not
allowed to have anything of the kind at all even in the
dining-room.

Sandboys likes the head-waiter very much, and says there isn't very
much use in boys trying to fool him, because it hadn't been very
long since he was a boy himself and he's up to all their tricks,
and his game of football is the finest that ever was. One time two
years ago when he was in school his team had been forced back
almost to the goal line, Sandboys says, when all of a sudden he got
the ball and ran half way down the field with it before he was
stopped, and then, with both his own and the other eleven sitting
on his back he crawled the rest of the way and made a touch-down
and won a goal.

"I don't see how that could be though," I said.

"Neither do I," said Sandboys, "but that's what he did."

Unfortunately Sandboys forgot what school it was he went to, and
the head-waiter when I asked him about it, only laughed and said
Sandboys was a great man.

There was a slight-of-hand man here last week doing tricks in the
parlor, and I tell you he was fine. He could do anything with
anything. He asked if some little boy in the audience wouldn't come
up on the platform and let him see if he couldn't find some money
in his ears. That made everybody laugh, and I thought I'd go up,
but I wish now I hadn't. If I'd only gone outside and shook my head
I'd have been ten dollars in, because when I got up on the platform
he grabbed hold of my ear and got ten silver dollars out of it. I
never was more surprised in my life, and Pop thought he'd be smart
and have fun with the man. He got up and said he recognized those
ten dollars by the feathers on the eagles on the back of 'em. He
said he'd left them under his pillow the night before, and he
supposed that they'd slipped into my ear when I climbed over into
his bed. The man said all right he could have 'em, and when Pop
went up to get 'em they'd disappeared into the piano, and when he
went there to get 'em they'd disappeared into Sandboys' pocket, and
so on until Pop gave up chasing them, and said the prestidigitter
could keep 'em for himself. Everybody thought that was a great joke
on Pop, and he got very red, but later on when the man passed his
hat around for people to put quarters and dimes in for him, Pop
told him there was a four dollar bill in my eye he could have. This
made everybody laugh, which put Pop in a better humor, and I saw
him give the man two dollars and a half later on.

Besides this there hasn't been anything going on here that's worth
writing about. I asked Sandboys to give me some kind of an idea
about what to tell you that would be interesting, and he asked me
why I didn't tell you about the fourteen-pound pickerel I caught in
a lake last week. Why, I said, I didn't catch any fourteen-pound
pickerel. What difference does that make? he asked. You can tell
him about the one you would have caught if you'd caught it, which I
think was rather funny. Somehow or other I'm beginning to believe
that Sandboys has lots of things happen to him that never happened,
and I'm going to be careful about what I believe. I asked the
proprietor about that bear story he told, and the Colonel said he'd
never heard of it, and all the satisfaction I could get out of
Sandboys later was that the Colonel was like all very prosperous
personages. His memory was short.

Give my love to anybody you think would like to have it, and if you
meet any Kings or Queens don't forget to talk right up to 'em like
a real American.

Yours affectionately,

JACK.

There was not much record-breaking at the Interscholastic Games in the Madison Square Garden a week ago Saturday night, doubtless on account of the heavy track; but there was good sport and plenty of it, and better in-door games than these have never been seen in New York. Not only did the local schools turn out in full force, entering their strongest teams, but the winners of the recent B.A.A. games came down from Boston, and the leagues of Connecticut, New Jersey, Long Island, and Philadelphia sent some of their best men--men who proved so clever that the New-Yorkers managed to secure only five firsts out of the thirteen events, and but 49 points out of a possible 117. With such an aggregation the games became truly representative of school athletics, in the East at least, and they foreshadow a brilliant success for the National Games next June. If we can get as representative a gathering on that occasion, there need be no fear for the future of the Association.

St. Paul's School has good reason to feel pride in the achievement of her team, for it was as a team that the lads of Garden City won success rather than as individuals. The development of track athletics at St. Paul's during the present year is really worthy of note. At the Long Island League games last May, the Garden City team ranked fourth with 20 points, the winner of the day being Adelphi Academy with 39. At the Inter-City games the week following, St. Paul's held eighth place with 6 points--Barnard leading with 21. At the recent in-door games of the Long Island League in Brooklyn, St. Paul's showed her newly developed strength by ranking third, and her team took the same place at the Berkeley games a week later, Berkeley and Barnard being ahead of her in both instances. But St. Paul's has fewer stars and a better general average than these two New York schools, and for this reason was able to roll up 19 points, and take first place at the New Manhattan Athletic Club games, the athletes from out of town robbing both Berkeley and Barnard of several firsts which they can usually count upon in local contests.

Beers of De La Salle is the only man who scored a double win at the Garden, and he deserves praise for his work. He won his heat in the hurdles in 7-3/5 sec., and then took the final after a hot race with Bien of Berkeley over a course that was far from ideal for hurdling. In the broad jump he displayed the best form of any of the contestants. This may not sound very complimentary to those who saw the display of form that evening, for it was wretched; but Beers's performance gave evidence of his having done systematic work. The box was doubtless responsible for a good deal of the floundering that the jumpers indulged in when they landed, and the runway no doubt had little spring; but neither of these disadvantages can account for some of the marvellous mid-air gyrations that most of them executed in their flights.

Broad-jumping is an event that we seldom have at in-door meets, and the performances in the Garden on this occasion showed very well why this event has to be abandoned. It is impossible, of course, to jump on a board floor. At the N.M.A.C. games the board floor had been covered with a pretty heavy layer of clay and dirt, but as soon as a man landed in the jumping box where this layer had been turned over, he slid, and in nine cases out of ten fell backward. This could not be helped, and was just as great an obstacle for the success of one man as it was for another, and consequently Beers's performance of 19 ft. 2-1/2 in. is most creditable. The N.Y.I.S.A.A. out-door record, made by Pell in 1891, is little better, being 21 feet 5 inches.

N.M.A.C. INTERSCHOLASTIC GAMES, MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, MARCH 28, 1896.

Event. Performance. Winner
50-yard dash (Senior) 6 sec R. W. Moore, Barnard, N. Y.
50-yard dash (Junior) 5-4/5 " W. A. Robinson, St. Paul's,
L. I.
220-yard dash 26-1/5 " W. M. Robinson, Worcester
Academy, Mass.
Quarter-mile run 57-4/5 " C. R. Irwin-Martin, Berkeley,
N. Y.
Half-mile run 2 m. 12-1/5 " W. S. Hipple, Barnard, N. Y.
One-mile run 4 " 56 " E. W. Mills, Berkeley, Boston.
50-yard hurdle (3 ft.) 7-2/5 " A. F. Beers, De La Salle,
N. Y.
One-mile walk 7 " 59-2/5 " A. L. O'Toole, English
High-School, Boston.
Running high jump 5 ft. 7-1/2 in. F. R. Sturtevant, Hartford
High-School.
Running broad jump 19 " 2-1/2 " A. F. Beers, De La Salle,
N. Y.
Pole vault 10 " R. G. Paulding, Black Hall,
Conn.
Putting 12-lb. shot 42 " 1 " F. C. Ingalls, Hartford
High-School.
Relay race 4 m. 2-1/5 sec. St. Paul's School, L. I.

Points.

St. Paul's 19
Berkeley, N. Y. 14
De La Salle 13
Worcester Academy 11
Barnard 10
Hartford High 10
Boston English High 7
Berkeley, Boston 5
Black Hall 5
Collegiate School 3
Packard Institute 3
Drisler's 3
Brooklyn High 3
Pingry's, Elizabeth, N. J. 3
Polytechnic Preparatory 2
Cutler's 2
Newark Academy 1
Roman Catholic High, Philadelphia 1
Wilson and Kellogg's 1

The prettiest performance of the evening, taking everything into consideration, was Mills's running of the mile. Mills was one of the Boston contingent, and at the B.A.A. games the week before he took the 1000-yard run in 2 min. 33 sec. He is a very fast man for long distances, being better at a five-mile event than at one. He is a well-built young athlete, has a beautiful stride, and runs in much better form than any scholastic competitor that has ever appeared in local games. It was plain to see as soon as the race had been started that Mills was to have everything his own way. He contented himself with remaining at the rear of the bunch for the first lap or so, letting others set the pace, and waiting for the crowd to straggle a little before he tried to take the lead. Then he got into his stride, and trotted to the front as if the rest were standing still, and kept on increasing his lead at every lap. It soon became evident that the race was to be merely a contest for second place, but the Boston boy's running was of such a high grade that most of the spectators watched him, and seemed to lose interest in the real struggle, which was practically between Manvel of Pingry's, Turner of Cutler's, and Bedford of Barnard. Manvel had sized up Mills very early in the race, and did not allow himself to be drawn away too fast, but ran consistently for second place. Bedford, however, worked a little too hard in the early stages, and did not even secure a place at the end.

Mills's time was 4 min. 56 sec., and if the track had not been so heavy I feel certain he could have knocked off at least ten seconds. If he had been pushed at all he would have done better still. In the University team race Orton was hard pushed by Grant of Harvard, but his time was only 4 min. 52-3/5 sec., a little over three seconds faster than Mills's time in the mile; and Orton is one of the cracks among American amateurs. It would be interesting to see a race between Mills and Orton.

The heavy track precluded any record-breaking or good time in the sprints. W. M. Robinson, of Worcester Academy, took his heat in the 50-yard dash in 5-4/5 sec. At the B.A.A. games he ran the 40-yard dash in 4-4/5 sec. Moore of Barnard, however, met Robinson in the finals, and his winning time was 6 sec., Robinson being unable to repeat the work he had done in his heat. Another Robinson, he of St. Paul's, in the Junior 50-yard ran his first heat in 6 sec., and then won the final in 5-4/5 sec., doing better according to the summarized record than the Senior winner.

In the half-mile run, Dow, one of the Boston athletes, was considerable of an unknown quantity, but he was not fast enough to defeat Hipple of Barnard. The Bostonian took the pole at the start, and went off with an easy stride, Hipple hanging back in third place; but at the third round the New-Yorker began to catch up, and the race with Dow was neck and neck into the stretch, where Hipple burst ahead and won by several yards. Hall of St. Paul's, who had not been working so hard, then quickly passed Dow, and took second honors. Irwin-Martin of Berkeley had little trouble in his quarter-mile heat, but when it came for the decisive encounter he had to work for his points. He did not get to the front until the last lap, and even then he had to do his best to defeat Van Wagenen of St. Paul's.

The hurdle races were too short to be interesting, and the performers knocked over the hurdles so consistently that this usually pretty race was a good deal of a failure.

Next to the mile run, the mile walk was as exciting as any of the events of the evening. There was a good field, and in it were two good men--Walker of Berkeley and O'Toole of Boston. O'Toole walked in faultless form, and was content to remain in the middle of the bunch for the first lap; after that he made long strides for the front. Myers kept close to him, and Walker worked hard the entire distance to secure the lead. At the fourth lap the Berkeley lad did get to the front, but O'Toole immediately put on more steam and gained several yards. Ware of Packard Institute did steady work the entire distance, and came in second, with Walker close behind him. If Walker and O'Toole meet at the National I.S.A.A. games in June, it will be a very close contest, with the same advantage of physique in favor of the Bostonian; but both athletes are about equal in form and style.

Of the field events, the pole vault was perhaps the most interesting, narrowing down to a battle between Paulding of Black Hall and Johnson of Worcester. Paulding finally took first honors by clearing the bar at 10 feet. Both men would doubtless have done better if the conditions had been more favorable, the runway being soft and without spring. The shot went to Ingalls of Hartford, who put it 42 feet 1 inch; the broad jump went to Beers, as already stated; and the running high jump also went to Hartford, with Sturtevant, who cleared 5 feet 7-1/2 inches. He is a very promising man.

The relay race was run off in the very excellent time of 4 minutes 2-1/5 seconds. The St. Paul's representative in the first quarter secured the lead, and the Garden City runners thereafter managed to increase their gain on every lap. In the last, Irwin-Martin started in for Berkeley and gained slightly on Hall, the St. Paul's man, but the latter had too great an advantage to be overcome, and five more points went to Garden City.

Two California schools are going to meet in a kind of single combat at an early date. It seems that the school paper of Oakland claimed that Cheek, Rosborough, Jenks, and Dawson could defeat the whole team the Berkeley High-School sent to the last A.A.L. field-meeting. The Berkeley athletes at once called upon the Oaklanders to descend from the house-tops, and sent a challenge for dual games, O.H.-S. to be represented by the four men she had so proudly vaunted, and B.H.-S. to be represented by four of her strongest athletes. The events in this duel will be the same as those at the regular A.A.L. field-meetings, including the relay race, which the four champions of each school are to run. This glorious tournament will doubtless be held on April 18th, and I, for one, should like to see it.

The Secretary of the National Lawn-Tennis Association has announced the dates for this summer's tournaments, and according to his list the Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Columbia interscholastic tournaments will be held on May 2d. The Interscholastic Championships at Newport are scheduled for August 13th.