Chapter IX (1)

A few days later Ida was once more back at the old farm; and how different now did everything look to her. The days of grumbling and complaint were past forever. She was no longer annoyed by her old aunt's unwitting offences against etiquette; and she found a new and strange pleasure in simple things which she had once regarded with indifference or aversion. She fed the fowls, learned to harness the old horse, and insisted on helping with the work of the dairy. And how proud she was of her first pat of delicious butter!

"It really seems a pity to eat it," she said, as she exhibited it in triumph to Aunt Patty.

One day she took the horse and light wagon and drove to Bell's Falls. She said she had some shopping to do there, and several errands to which she must attend.

"One of them is a commission from Doctor Stone," she said, trying not to smile, but failing signally.

Lately she had received several letters from the old doctor, but she never read them to her aunt and sister.

"Some day you may read them," she said to Aunt Patty, "but not now. Doctor Stone and I have a secret which you and Cynthia are not to know just yet."

"It seems to make you very happy, whatever it is," said Cynthia.

"Well, I am more anxious than happy just now," returned Ida. "But I can't explain why."

About a week after her trip to Bell's Falls, Ida entered the farm-house kitchen late one afternoon with two letters in her hand. Her face was glowing from her brisk walk to and from the village post-office, and her bright eyes were dancing in anticipation of some rare enjoyment.

"One of those letters for me?" asked Cynthia, who was busy at a table making rolls for supper.

"No; both for me," answered her sister, "and great news in both. One is from Aunt Stina, who says she will be home by the 1st of November, and wants me to be ready to live with her again."

"Oh, Ida!"

It was a simultaneous exclamation from Aunt Patty and Cynthia. They both looked blank, and Cynthia dropped her rolling-pin and sat down in the nearest chair, as if she felt suddenly weak.

Ida laughed. She looked wonderfully radiant and happy. "Calm yourselves," she said. "I have other plans in my head. Listen to this." She tossed Aunt Stina's letter into the wood-box back of the stove, and opened the other--a business document--which announced that Miss Ida Worley had been appointed a teacher in the grammar school at Bell's Falls at a salary of seven hundred and fifty dollars per annum, her duties to begin the following Monday. "And as Bell's Falls is only fifteen miles off, I can come home every Friday night," said Ida.

"How'd you ever get the place?" asked Cynthia, when she and Aunt Patty had exhausted their vocabulary of exclamations of delight and astonishment.

"Through Doctor Stone's influence. He knows all three of the trustees. Dear old man! He was so ready to help me!"

"Aunt Stina will be dreadfully disappointed that she isn't to have you again, Ida."

"Perhaps so, just at first. But she will hire a companion--some one who will suit her much better than I. She won't approve of my teaching, and will wonder that I prefer it to a life of idleness in her house. But I am longing to feel that I am of some use in the world--not a drone in the hive."

"You dear child!" said Aunt Patty. "Your kind and unselfish act in helping that poor fever-stricken woman has brought a great reward. Had you passed her by you would never have known Doctor Stone, and wouldn't now have a chance to show what a busy bee you can become."

"My first month's salary shall be spent in fitting out my dear Aunt Patty with everything she needs in the way of comfortable dress," said Ida, with her arms around her aunt's waist, "and the month after that every cent shall go to Cynthia. Oh, I can hardly wait to begin! How thankful I am that I came here last June. It was the beginning of a new life. And to think how I mourned and made myself utterly miserable because I couldn't go abroad with Aunt Stina!"

Cynthia's plain little face fairly beamed with joy. "And now Aunt Stina is never to have you again," she said.

"Never again! I belong now to you and Aunt Patty."

THE END.

THE CAPTURE OF THE SLAVER.

BY AN OLD SHIPMASTER.

I had run away to sea, and was serving as cabin-boy on the _Flying Scud_. But by the time we got to Cienfuegos, Cuba, I had suffered so much from ill-treatment, that I resolved to desert before the ship sailed. I had an afternoon ashore, and while amusing myself with the sights I went into a restaurant for dinner.

At a table opposite mine was a fine-looking sailorly man, dressed in a white duck suit and a broad-brimmed Panama hat. While he sipped his coffee, and lazily smoked his long, black Cuban cigar, he appeared to take considerable notice of me. When I was ready to depart he called me to him, and asked the name of the ship I belonged to, the treatment and wages I received, and so on. He seemed so friendly and interested that I made free to tell him of my troubles, and stated that I longed for the termination of the voyage. At this he said:

"It seems, my boy, that Providence has sent me to deliver you. I am Captain of a fine ship, and am in need of a cabin-boy on account of mine having met with an accident that will keep him on shore for some time. What do you say to shipping with me? I will promise you good treatment and much better wages than the _Flying Scud_ pays you."

Here was a golden avenue of escape for me. I was young and trustful, and Captain Ward of the _Dragon_--for such he told me were the names of himself and vessel--seemed so sympathetic and kindly that I gladly signified my willingness to desert to him.

"Very well," he answered, seemingly well pleased; "I am going on board now, for we are to sail immediately, and you can come right along with me."

As we made our way to the landing-stage through the fast growing darkness, Captain Ward kept up an easy, friendly flow of talk, and by the time that we were seated in the handsome long boat belonging to the _Dragon_ I had, in the impulsiveness of youth, become strongly attached to him. When we reached the latter vessel it was too dark to observe anything more about her than the fact that she was fore-and-aft rigged, with a long yard on her foremast for bending a big square sail to when running before the wind, and had a broad, clean sweep of deck, with high bulwarks, through whose port-holes several cannon looked out. The Captain was received at the gangway by his chief mate, to whom I was pointed out with the half-laughing remark, "this is our new cabin-boy, who had the good taste to prefer the _Dragon_ to the big ship over yonder." I went below with him, and he pointed out a tidy little state-room, which he told me I was to occupy, and said that whatever clothes I might need would be supplied to me out of the stock kept in the slop-chest. Immediately after this Captain Ward went on deck, and we lifted the anchor and put to sea.

Well, to make a shorter story of it, I will explain right here that I soon learned I had shipped on board of the most notorious slaver in the trade, and that she was commanded by a man who was acknowledged to have no rival in the way of daring and success. I heard some time later that he had been a buccaneer in the Gulf of Mexico before going into the slave trade, and that the _Dragon_ had once flown from her masthead the fearful black flag. All this may have been, and probably was true; but this I claim freely, that during the month that I served on board I received the kindest treatment from him. It fretted me, however, to think of serving on such a vessel, and I determined to leave as soon as we returned to Cuba. But I was not to wait even that length of time, as you will soon learn.

Several days later, in a river on the African coast, we loaded the _Dragon_ with four hundred poor wretches, who had been captured to serve as slaves to the civilized Christian white men across the wide Atlantic. Our lading had been much hurried, owing to a report that the American man-of-war _Dale_ had been seen cruising off the mouth of the river the day before we arrived. Her cutters had a habit very distasteful to the slave-traders of pulling up the river at unexpected times in search of contraband cargoes. The penalty that the officers and crews of slave-ships were obliged to pay in the way of death or lengthy imprisonment, and the confiscation of their vessel and effects, often drove the slavers to open warfare with the naval forces when in tight corners. If they were captured, after warlike resistance or with slaves on board, they were considered as pirates, and suffered accordingly.

The slaves had been fed and chained securely between decks, and everything made ready for slipping out to sea by sunset, as the lookout reported the coast clear; but Captain Ward waited until the off-shore wind began to blow, about eight o'clock, before getting up his anchor. At that time, under the jib and mainsail, the _Dragon_ commenced to work slowly down the river, the negro pilot standing on the forecastle and conning the vessel through the channel. We had almost reached the mouth of the stream. I heard the Captain say to his mate that by daylight the land would be leagues astern, and all danger from station cruisers would be at an end.

Just as we approached the last turn, where the river narrowed to about one hundred feet, the _Dragon_ stopped suddenly, brought up against a stout hawser stretched from tree to tree on either bank, then swung around until she lay directly across the stream, and at the same instant two boats dashed alongside filled with naval sailors, who were prepared to sweep down all resistance with their cutlasses, drove the crew into the forecastle, and secured the door. I had been standing on the quarter-deck when the schooner was captured, and as the men-of-war's men forced the Captain and mate below the former picked me up in passing and carried me into the cabin with him. No sooner had we entered this than the companion-way slide was pulled over and we were prisoners, while overhead sounded the tramp of many feet as the sails were lowered and the vessel brought to an anchor.

"Quick, open one of the stern-ports!" said the Captain to the mate; then he ran into his room, from which he reappeared almost immediately and thrust a sheet of paper into my hand, exclaiming, "Show this to the naval officer when he comes below."

In another instant he and the mate had pulled off their shoes and clothes and slipped noiselessly into the dark flowing river through the open port. I entered the master's berth, in which a candle-lamp was burning, and looked at the paper that the Captain had given me. It read:

"My cabin-boy was innocent of the character of the _Dragon_ when he
signed articles.

"ROLAND WARD, Master."

Slaver, pirate, or any other hard name you may call him, there was something noble in the man who could think of others at such a time, and sacrifice even a few precious, fleeting moments to insure the safety of a poor little cabin-boy.

A few minutes later a naval officer, followed by several blue-jackets well armed, descended the companion-way and asked for the Captain. In order to gain time for the two men, whom I knew to be at that instant swimming for their lives, I handed him the note. He glanced over it, thrust it in his pocket, and exclaimed:

"This will keep for the present. Where is the Captain?"

I answered that he was not in the cabin.

"Where is the Captain?" he repeated, impatiently.

I knew that the swimmers must have reached shore, and were safe from pursuit in the darkness of the night, so I pointed to the open port. The officer stamped his foot in rage, to think that he should have been outwitted so cleverly, and ran up to the deck, where I heard him shouting to burn a blue light, and for some of his men to tumble into the boats and pull about in search of the escaping slavers.

The seamen had their trouble for nothing, as the Captain and mate succeeded in making their way back into the country, where they remained in hiding until they found an opportunity of getting back to Cuba.

During the next day the _Dale_ made her appearance, and received the transfer of the prisoners. Although I was sent with them, the Captain's note was accepted as proof of my innocence, and I was restored to liberty and made a messenger-boy on board the man-of-war, in which capacity I served until the _Dale_ was relieved by the sloop-of-war _Vincennes_, and returned to the United States a few months later.

The lieutenant who had been left in ambush and who had captured the slaver was placed on board of her in command, and she was afterwards employed successfully as a decoy for bringing a number of other slave-ships within the clutches of Uncle Sam's officers.

My advent in the village was all that I could have wished for. The local paper published my picture in man-of-war uniform, together with a history of my voyage; and I was heroized by the girls, and looked upon with sufficient admiration and burning jealousy on the part of my former school-fellows to make even my cup of satisfaction and happiness full to the brim.

STORIES OF PRESENCE OF MIND.

IN REPORTING THE "VICTORIA" DISASTER.

BY DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS.

The newsman at Piccadilly and St. James's Street had his bill of news wares pasted on the pavement. Even he who ran by means of a swift hansom-cab might read the huge black letters. There was but one article on the bill. Black type, three inches long, shouted:

HORRIBLE DISASTER!

H.M.S. "VICTORIA" RAMMED AND SUNK!

FOUR HUNDRED LIVES LOST!

As Fabian Wendell, London correspondent of the New York _Intelligence_, and his friend Carter, just from New York, were whirled out of St. James's Street into Piccadilly, Wendell's eye caught the announcement. He lifted the trap in the top of the cab and told cabby to pull into the pavement and hail the newsman.

"All the papers," said Wendell, and straightway had the afternoon rainbow--the pink _Star_, the yellow _Globe_, the white _Pall Mall_, the pale gray _Standard_, and the green _Westminster_.

"What is the matter?" asked Carter.

"Great news," replied Wendell, opening the _Pall Mall_, and pointing to a "scare head" half a column long. Under the head-lines was this short despatch:

TRIPOLI, _June_ 23d.--H.M.S. _Camperdown_ rammed H.M.S. _Victoria_
yesterday five miles out at sea. The _Victoria_ sank at once.
Rear-Admiral Tryon, most of his officers, and over three hundred
men were lost.

"The Mediterranean fleet," went on Wendell, talking to arrange his thoughts rather than to inform his friend, "has been cruising in the Levant. _Victoria_ was the biggest and most formidable battle-ship in the world. _Camperdown_ is almost as big. Tripoli is on the north coast of Africa--"

"No," interrupted Carter, who was looking at the _Standard_. "This paper says it is Tripoli, on the coast of Asia Minor."

"That's bad--small place--poor telegraph," Wendell was muttering, his forehead wrinkled so that it suggested sixty rather than twenty-three. Up went the trap in the top of the cab. "Drive to the Eastern Telegraph Company, Old Broad Street. And you get an extra fare if you do it quickly."

"What are you going to do there?" Carter inquired, as the cab began a mad dash down St. James's Street on its way to the City and Old Broad Street.

"Why, a very simple thing. I'm going to try to get a full account of this disaster, and print it in New York before an account is printed in England. Tripoli is miles away from nowhere at all. These English papers are very slow. I propose to show them what American enterprise is."

"But they are sure to be first with such a story as this, about their own navy. You have no correspondent there."

"Neither have they. I have a scheme, and the beauty of it is that even if these English fellows think of it they will dismiss it without a trial as too absurd."

"Then you admit there is practically no chance?"

"Chance? I don't admit that there is such a thing as chance. I know that it is my duty to do something. This is the only thing I can think of. The others will be hopeless and will do nothing."

At the Eastern Telegraph Building Wendell stopped in the office on the first floor long enough to write this despatch:

To the telegraph agent, Tripoli, Syria.--The New York
_Intelligence_ will pay the telegraph tolls and £200 ($1000) for
two thousand words full describing the _Victoria_ disaster. Send at
once to Wendell, London.

Then he went up stairs, straight to the general manager. That important person read the despatch with increasing derision, which he did not take the trouble to conceal.

"The rate from Tripoli to London is a shilling a word," he said. "Two thousand words will cost you a hundred pounds, five hundred dollars. The operator or agent at Tripoli is an ignorant Turk, who, without doubt, knows not a word of English. Tripoli is on the Turkish government lines, and we cannot send the money to him to pay for the despatch. He never heard of the New York _Intelligence_. You practically ask him to spend a hundred pounds with no prospect of ever seeing it again."

"Very true," said Wendell, and he took the despatch and added to it. "Will start money as soon as despatch is received." Then he gave it back to the manager, saying: "No harm to try. If I fail, I shall be out only the eleven dollars this telegram will cost me. If I win--"

He laughed, and the manager relented. "I'll mark it so that it shall be rushed through, and I'll add my own guarantee," he said, with abrupt courtesy. "As soon as an answer comes, if an answer does come, I'll see that you get it."

Wendell thanked him, and went away with Carter. He spent the rest of the day getting and sending all he could find bearing in any way upon the disaster. All England was waiting for the fuller news. The Admiralty and the Foreign Office were besieged by crowds of those who had relatives or friends in the fleet. But no further news came. The Saturday morning papers had nothing but rumors. Even the long reach of the Times could not get at that obscure Syrian village.

Wendell watched impatiently for the early editions of the Saturday afternoon papers. There was still no story. The whole civilized world was waiting. Carter was despondent over the failure of Wendell's scheme, and Wendell had almost ceased to hope. The Sunday morning papers had nothing. Sunday afternoon came a telegram in an Eastern Telegraph envelope. Wendell's hands trembled as he read:

Tripoli, Syria.--Send soon as can raise money. Old subscriber
_Intelligence_.

HARRIS.

Wendell laughed hysterically as he gave it to Carter, who was really faint with excitement. "The manager said they don't know the _Intelligence_ in Syria," he laughed, as Carter was reading and rereading. "I wonder what he will think of that?" And he hurried away a cheering telegram to the unknown Harris, who was helping him to beat the world on the news story.

"If Monday morning's papers pass it," he went on, "we're safe. But that's a slim chance."

He waited up until six o'clock Monday morning to see. The only further news was a partial list of the saved, and a formal announcement from the Commander of _Camperdown_ that the disaster had happened. To Wendell this fortune seemed incredible.

* * * * *

Two thousand miles away, Harris, a medical missionary at Tripoli, was in a more agitated state than was Wendell. He was the only English-speaking person in that squalid little Asiatic port. He came from Kentucky, and got his news of America through the weekly edition of the _Intelligence_, for which he was a subscriber. The day after Wendell sent his despatch he was passing the telegraph office. Abdallah Gazi, the Turkish operator, called him in, and asked him to translate it. As Harris read it, he saw the whole situation.

Abdallah had been the despair of the survivors of the disaster. As he hated the English, he had pretended to be more stupid than he really was. Harris was fired with ambition to help the paper he took, published by his countrymen, in his native land. But to get together the five hundred dollars necessary was no easy thing in that miserably poor village. He gave no heed to the furious Syrian sun; he toiled and wrestled with friends and acquaintances. By Monday afternoon he had the money, and began dictating two thousand English words, letter by letter, to the operator, who spoke only Arabic. It was a long and dreary task, and not until midnight was it done.

* * * * *

The first sheet of the great special, telling the pitiful story of Tryon's mistake, and its horrible result, was in Wendell's hands at five o'clock that Monday afternoon. Thanks to the difference of time, the last sheet reached him at ten o'clock, two hours earlier than the time at which Harris sent it. Wendell had the wires to New York open, and had warned the _Intelligence_ of what was coming. As New York is five hours earlier than London, the editor of the _Intelligence_ was reading the great beat on all the newspapers in the world at half past six o'clock. At seven an extra afternoon edition of the _Evening Intelligence_ was on the streets of New York.

Next morning Wendell slept late. When his man awakened him, he was straightway at the bundle of morning papers. Every great London daily had its first story of the _Victoria_ disaster, in large type, with huge head-lines. The eager British people had the news at last. But the date line of the story was not Tripoli. Every despatch began: "New York, June 26th.--The _Intelligence_ has the following special from Tripoli."

"I wish I had been in the editorial rooms of the great London _Times_ when that special from New York came," said Fabian Wendell.

THE LAST LITTLE LEAF.

The last little leaf has fluttered down,
The trees are standing all bare and brown;

But the winter long, if you could see,
There are wee little elves in each brown tree

Spinning the dress, so green and fair,
That will one day wave in the soft spring air.

Good-by, little leaf; you did your best;
So curl away, it is time to rest.

M. E. S.

HOW TO ENTER THE ARMY.

BY GENERAL O. O. HOWARD, U.S.A.

(_In Two Papers._)

I.--ENLISTMENT.

THE PREPARATION NEEDED.

Our boys are familiar with the United States flag, with its historic stars and stripes, as it floats over public buildings and is carried in street parades. How many know it is used for a sign or a sign-board? Passing through any one of our large cities, we often see the flag drooping from a protruding staff over a common office doorway. Considering what it means, we go up to the door, and see on one side a flaming poster printed in colors, surmounted by a picture of many soldiers standing well grouped, in their bright attractive uniforms. On reading we find this to be an advertisement or an invitation on the part of the United States government to all able-bodied men so desiring to join the ranks of the army as private soldiers. It states that the man so volunteering to serve his government in this capacity will be well clothed, fed, and, besides, receive $13 per month in cash, less certain small sums retained from time to time by the government to be surrendered to the soldier upon his discharge from service. He must agree to serve faithfully, take an oath of fidelity to the United States, and to obey all superior officers for a period of three years. It was formerly five years. While reading the poster we have noticed, either leaning in the doorway or pacing up and down with erect carriage, in a neat tight-fitting blue uniform, a man who, upon being accosted, replies that he is a private, or, if we noticed a V-shaped braid upon his arm, a sergeant, belonging to some regiment of the army stationed at a distance. He is here to get men to enlist, and go back with him to his regiment and become soldiers. He enlarges upon the pleasures of the service--if cavalry, the riding, the scouting, the excitements of chasing Indians; if infantry, the enjoyments of camp life, the practice marches, the Indian campaigns, where deeds of gallantry and brave acts will be rewarded by medals and certificates of honor; if artillery, the use of heavy ordnance in defending our sea-coasts, with their pleasant stations.

In glowing terms he thus pictures to a young man the life of a soldier, such as we are familiar with in history. But to have him know more fully he invites him to go into a room within, called a Recruiting Office. On coming in, his soldier friend touches his cap to a gentleman sitting at a desk writing. He reports that his companion is desirous of entering the army. This gentleman then, in a brisk businesslike way, which proves him to be an officer accustomed to command, draws from the young man an account of his past life, finds out his habits, his age, and then determines from his answers whether or not he would make a good soldier. He also shows him that soldiering is not all play, pomp, and ceremony, but work like that in any other profession, that implicit obedience is necessary, and willingness to do well the work in hand. Only in such a way could he expect to rise in the estimation of his superiors in rank and obtain promotion and reward. The officer satisfies himself that his candidate is a good one, filling the requirements of law as to a good moral character, able to read and write, and within the ages of sixteen and thirty-five; or, if under twenty-one, that he has his parents' or guardians' consent; then he will administer to him the oath of allegiance to the United States. Now, after signing a contract to serve the United States government as a soldier for the required period, our young civilian has become a recruit. Before, however, he is finally admitted, he must undergo a careful physical examination, made by a surgeon. The accepted recruit has his choice of entering the artillery, the cavalry, or the infantry.

The foregoing is all the preparation needed, but if our recruit is anxious to advance beyond the position of a private soldier, and to fill places of responsibility, it is needless to say he must prepare himself.

HIS CHANCES FOR ADVANCEMENT.

His first duty is to learn thoroughly his work as a private. Having done that well, he is without doubt prepared to teach others the same work. The officers are always watching for bright and intelligent men, and so will recommend for the next grade, and his captain will secure for him the appointment as corporal. Many men have not had the advantages of others before they enter the ranks, and for them to have the same chances of promotion post-schools are provided, each with a competent instructor, and under the charge of a commissioned officer.

On becoming a corporal some increase of responsibility is given our young soldier. He must wear as an indication of his rank two V-shaped stripes upon his arms and a narrow one down each trousers leg, of the color of the service insignia--red for artillery, yellow for cavalry, white for infantry. Instead of being conducted about in ranks, he now stands in line at the right end of his squad of eight men; when his squad is separate he is in command. He no longer walks post as sentry, but has charge of a relief, _i. e._, one of the divisions of a guard. The men of a relief all walk post at the same time. He must put his men on their posts as sentries, and stay awake and answer their calls so long as they are there. Many other duties, clerical, police, and provost, are given corporals, according to their ability.

Vacancies constantly occur in the higher positions, and the custom is to fill them from the next lower rank. If our corporal has shown his ability to command firmly but in a manner pleasant to his associates while in his present grade, his chances are the best to be recommended for an appointment as a sergeant by the captain of his company. The corporal receives $15 and a sergeant $18 per month in the artillery, cavalry, and infantry.

A sergeant's command is double that of a corporal, and on guard he divides his time in charge of the guard-house with another sergeant while overseeing the corporals and their reliefs. On drill he is over a section of two squads; in barracks he has charge of one sleeping-room; must keep order and enforce discipline. Thus still more ability to command other men must be shown. Corporals and sergeants are called "non-commissioned officers," because they receive a warrant from their colonel countersigned by the adjutant as authority of rank, in place of a commission from the President of the United States.

The labors of soldiers, privates, corporals, or sergeants are not usually arduous, except in case of war or other like emergency. Their daily routine is no more monotonous than men's ordinary pursuits in civil life, with the one exception that they are always under the command of others; but this need not trouble them; for good soldiers there is responsibility enough, according to the position they hold. Their time is pretty well occupied; for there are generally two drills a day; care of their room and equipments; in the cavalry, grooming their horses twice a day; also guard duty for a night and day at least once a week. In the artillery there is now the study of the mechanism of modern heavy guns--their loading; their firing by mechanical means and by electricity. If we think of the emergency calls upon the soldier--for example, during riots, insurrections, and such like--we find the service of enough variety and interest for the average man. Besides the positions of corporal and sergeant which I have mentioned, many other places of higher pay are open to the soldier, such as trumpeter at $14 per month; wagoner, artificer, blacksmith, and farrier or saddler, at $15.

The Engineer and Ordnance Corps also offer higher pay, because of the knowledge required to build forts, bridges, and make ammunition and prepare projectiles. Privates of engineers receive $17; corporals, $20; sergeants, $34 per month. The Signal Corps sergeants have, besides their duties as experts in signalling, to be telegraph operators; they receive $45. To each company there is a first sergeant, who is the highest non-commissioned officer. He has direct charge of the men, and keeps all company records. He receives $25 per month. All pay in the army is increased from the third year of enlistment; _i. e._, the longer a man shall be a soldier, the more pay he will have a year.

In the regiment there are chief trumpeters, musicians, and saddlers, rated at $22 per month; chief musicians at $60--these are band-leaders. The sergeant-major, who has charge of regimental papers, quartermaster-sergeant, who has the care of all government property in the regiment, at $23; the sergeant-major and quartermaster-sergeant of engineers at $36.

Each post has an ordnance sergeant, commissary sergeant, and quartermaster sergeant at $34. Then in the Hospital Corps the stewards rate at $45. The hospital steward is really an apothecary. Acting hospital stewards are at $25, and attendants at $18.

These positions, except the musicians, are all filled from the ranks, according to fitness and ability. The highest goal to be reached by a soldier is a commission from the President as a second lieutenant in the army.

To obtain such a commission one must first become a corporal or sergeant, and have served three years. Then he has to prove himself a gentleman and good soldier to the satisfaction of his captain, whereupon by a mark on the sleeve he will be known as a candidate for a commission. He will have time allowed him to study, and he must prepare himself thoroughly in all common-school branches, including history, especially that of our own country. The first step is to receive the recommendation of his captain; next that of his colonel; and then of his department commander, when the commanding general at Washington will order him before a preliminary board of officers to convene near his station. This board will examine him more especially as to his knowledge of the duties of a soldier and officer. If he shall pass that satisfactorily he will be sent to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for final examination--a more thorough one in all branches, and before a board of four officers, two of whom must be surgeons. If successful in that and in a physical examination by the surgeons, his name will be sent to Washington with recommendation by the Examining Board that he be appointed a second lieutenant of artillery, cavalry, or infantry, according to the decision of the board, recommending him for that branch of the service for which he is best fitted. All appointees of late have gone either into the cavalry or infantry.

(_Second Paper will appear in No. 843._)

TABLEAUX VIVANTS.

BY EMMA J. GRAY.

There is nothing much more entertaining than getting up tableaux, the fun compensating for all the work and study.

In the November number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, in the year 1894, there is an article explaining the stage in the parlor, with all the paraphernalia of curtain, foot-lights, and scenery. Therefore the present article will omit mechanical directions; excepting to state that for those who will not undertake tableaux on such an elaborate scale, very desirable effect may be produced by using a drapery of dark green, red, or brown canton flannel, or shawls concealing the back and sides of the room. And a curtain may be made to draw in front by suspending it over a wire or stout cord, provided the cord or wire is fastened taut and strong. A small curtain of the same color should be hung to conceal the lights, and also the persons who draw the stage curtain.

The lights should be put at the left, and they should be arranged to bring out the desired detail. Therefore the placing of them will have to be tried beforehand. Put some on the floor and others on the top of a table, and others still higher. A row of wax candles would be better foot-lights than none at all. Only be careful of draught, and keep from catching on fire by stretching a stout wire across the stage, two feet back of the candles, and from this fasten a wire netting directly over the candles, so as to completely cover the blaze from possible contact with the curtain, or other inflammable stuff. Put mirrors behind all of the stage lamps, and also behind the candles; the mirrors act as reflectors, and heighten the effect. If you cannot provide mirrors, use tin reflectors.

Before arranging tableaux vivants, ask some older person than yourselves to take charge. By so doing you will overcome the greatest of all difficulties, because you have shifted the responsibility. To this person you can even turn for advice and decision.

The first question to decide is always the character of the tableaux; whether they are to be of mixed variety, with no special subject in view but of pretty or amusing entertainment, or whether they are to teach or illustrate a special theme. The latter is generally preferable, and always so at the time of a great festival, such as Christmas. This point settled, the next would naturally be whether the entertainment should be entirely, or in part, of a religious character. If in part religious, it would be delightful to show Christmas Carillons, Twelve Chimes, Christmas to Twelfth Night.

The First Tableau would be entitled the Annunciation, when

"The angel greets the Virgin mild;
Hail, Mary, full of grace! thy child
The Son of God shall be."

This tableau represents an interior: the room has a deep frieze drapery over the mantel, before which Mary kneels on a low cushion; to her left, and considerably before her, is a large jardinière filled with ascension lilies; and directly before her is a table, on which is a roll of parchment partly unfastened. By the table stands the angel with hand outstretched towards her.

_Tableau Second_.--The shepherds see the angels bright.

Scene out of doors, with shepherds in their usual costume, each shepherd holding a crook, while back of them, huddled close together, stand the herds of sheep. Before the shepherds, and a trifle to their right, is the angel, with outstretched hand, indicating the way.

_Tableau Third_.--Ye lads and lassies, go fetch ivy, holly, and mistletoe.

An out-of-door winter scene, showing overturned trees, dried and leafless branches, frozen streams, and a light snow, while playfully rushing down the hillside come the gay young people with armfuls of green branches.

_Tableau Fourth_.--Bringing in the boar's head.

"Was-haile!
Bring in, upon his silver tray,
With minstrelsie
The boar's head, armed with garlands gay
And rosemarie."

The jolliest and tallest boy should take this character, and hold the tray above his head.

If the readers will find the HARPER'S MONTHLY for December, 1880, they can copy the tableaux with greatest ease.

While these tableaux are shown the poem should be recited in entirety, and, if thought advisable, more tableaux might be readily added.

Other examples of the religious would be to show an out-of-door winter scene, with snow-covered hills and leafless tree branches, on which a little snow has fallen. Towards the front of the stage half a dozen girls and boys, in gay attire with picturesque wraps and hats, should stand. They should be naturally grouped; some of the boys should have their hands in their pockets, others, again, have them drawn under their short cloaks. It is a cold night, and the young people should indicate it. While they thus stand an invisible chorus should sing a hymn of the Nativity. Or, with a similar background, show five girls standing in a straight line, a tall one in the centre; the two shortest should stand on each end. The girls should be attired differently, but all in warm apparel, with fur-edged cloaks or fur garments of any sort; each girl should have her hands in a muff. Show a quantity of warm color, which can readily be done by silk mufflers, frocks, ribbons, and feathers. Back of these girls an invisible chorus must sing a Christmas carol.

A catchy tableau series would be Mother Goose and her children celebrating Christmas.

_Tableau First_.--Mother Goose in her tall cone-shaped hat, riding on an enormous goose. Copy hers and all the other costumes from Mother Goose's book.

_Tableau Second_.--Her children faithfully charactered. Little Jack Horner should be sitting in a corner, eating his Christmas pie. The King in his parlor should be dressed to represent a king. Simple Simon should meet pie-man going to the fair, etc.

_Tableau Third_.--A sleeping apartment, Mother Goose and her family in bed. Great prominence must be shown to Mother Goose, whose bed is in front, and near hers some of her more notable children. This scene may be readily arranged by putting small cots on the stage; the children can lie down dressed, the coverlets hiding their clothing. Near each bed put that which would indicate their character, as example, the big pie for the pie-man.

_Tableau Fourth_.--Santa Claus at home about time to start. Interior of a room, simply packed with all sorts of hobby-horses, dolls--big and little, dressed and undressed--musical birds, woolly sheep, sleighs, drums, tenpins, everything in the toy line that could be imagined or described, while in a large easy-chair before the lighted grate-fire sits old Santa himself, as gray-bearded, fat, and jolly as ever.

_Tableau Fifth_.--Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep and dreamt--

Show Santa Claus again, this time out-of-doors, on his sled drawn by swift reindeers; but the reindeers have stopped, for Bo-Peep stands before them, her shepherd's crook leaning over her shoulder, her sheep all around, and they, as also Po-Beep, gazing at the presents--sled, Santa Claus's pack, hat, beard, miniature tree, full stockings, and all. Bo-Peep wears the regular shepherdess costume, the sheep are toy sheep on wheels. The bells should jingle loudly until Bo-Peep appears.

_Tableau Sixth_.--The Christmas tree.

A large tree filled with toys; leaning against it is a ladder, which Mother Goose climbs, and then unfastens the various gifts. Her children are all grouped around the bottom, and impatiently await the arrival of their presents.

_Tableau Seventh_.--The Christmas dance.

Mother Goose and her children dance around the Christmas tree. Waltz music is played; they dance once around, when the curtain is drawn.

_Tableau Eighth_.--Mother Goose's children eating their Christmas supper. A long table covered with a white cloth, and decorated with lighted candelabra, flowers, bonbons, fancy cakes, china, silver, and cut glass. All the children are seated around, Mother Goose at the head, and to her right her son Jack, then Jack's wife, then a boy, then a girl, and so on around. Each child is in the act of eating, drinking, lifting a cup, a candy, or indicating some natural movement at a supper table; their heads should be turned as though they were in conversation.

_Tableau Ninth_.--Mother Goose and her family in a well-arranged group now stand and sing a jolly good-night song. This song may be acted by those on the stage, but the singing is done by an unseen chorus.

Follow this with two tableaux, opposite in meaning.

_Tableau One_.--The empty stocking. A poverty-stricken-looking room--bare floor, a hard wood chair and table (on the table stand a few pieces of cheap china), a window with a broken pane, in which a bunch of paper or canton matting is stuffed to keep out the snow; a small kerosene lamp, the light from which comes dimly. A poorly clad and as poorly fed appearing little girl; one of her thin hands rests on the table, while the other holds an empty stocking, on which the child sadly gazes.

_Tableau Two_.--Bless you honey-bugs! Yo' feels gay.

This also is a plainly furnished room, but it is trimmed with Christmas greens, a large star and tree being particularly conspicuous. There are several colored children running around, some dancing, with toys in one hand and a full stocking in the other, others taking things off a little tree, others again eating sugar plums, or striding across the bare door in eager pursuit of a dropped cornucopia or cinnamon cake. Their dusky-faced mammies, meanwhile, laugh at them through the half-open doorway.

And thus tableau might be described after tableau, but a few hints may be helpful.

Carefully study scenic effect. "How beautiful!" is so often the exclamation regarding a well-dressed stage, even before any person appears or one word is spoken. Remember to use harmonizing colors, and to throw on different-colored lights. The latter may cost a little money, but it will repay a hundredfold. A white light, changing to pink, again to yellow, rose, or green, as the scenery may require. In every way catch the eye.

Remember, the tableau is but for a minute; let that minute be perfection.

Sometimes, for example, let a fountain play in the large grounds or garden. This can be easily arranged by the proper management of a hose. You can surely place a piece of oil-cloth under the moss over which the water flows, and have sponges conveniently near.

Be careful to select pretty and noticeable toilettes. If you are taking the character of a queen at a drawing-room, dress as the queen, not as her maid; but should you be a maid, wear jaunty, gay attire, and not costume yourself in a severely cut brown-cloth tailor suit.

Use all the accessories possible--music, song, recitation, as either may be given off the stage, as an accompaniment to a tableau. Be sure there is no catch in the stage curtain, and that the prompter understands all his duties. Every one should be punctual at rehearsals; and the night of the entertainment all the cast should be ready thirty minutes ahead of time, as that will prevent worry and nervousness. And if everybody is calm, and understands his part, there is no question as to success.

The Birds' Christmas Carol would make a very pretty tableau-vivant evening, and so would any one of the Christmas plays that have appeared in the ROUND TABLE.

All that is needed on such occasions is care in arranging details, a little painstaking in making up costumes, so that the colors shall harmonize one with another, and patience and persistence on the part of the young actors.

AN UP-TO-DATE SANTA CLAUS.

BY H. G. PAINE.

When Santa Claus came to town last year,
His deer,
'Tis said,
Struck a live wire and fell down dead.

Poor Santa felt sad to lose them so,
I know;
But he
Was not of the kind to give up, you see.

So he rigged up his sleigh like a trolley-car,
And far
That night,
_Viâ_ telegraph wires, he took his flight;

To each little child in bed
He sped,
Nor missed
A single one of all the list.

But this year he's going to take in hand
A brand-
New way,
And deliver his goods in a horseless sleigh.

CHRISTMAS IN A GIRLS' SCHOOL A CENTURY AGO.

BY E. IRENÆUS STEVENSON.

A good many of the grandmothers and the mothers of readers of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE were school-girls at a certain very old school in Pennsylvania still flourishing to-day--the Bethlehem Female Seminary. It was begun far back, in 1785, under the charge of the wise and kind Moravian Church people, who came to our country nearly two hundred years ago. The girls who were taught in this quiet seminary did not, let us say eighty years back from to-day, learn many things that nowadays are part of a girl's course of study. But they were also instructed in some matters always well to know, such as good manners and gentle behavior, love of their country and high principles of womanhood, and their life seems to have been a happy, helpful, and busy one.

A great deal was made in this school of birthdays and holidays. Particularly was Christmas a notable event, celebrated by teachers and pupils; for there was not much home going when December came. For weeks they prepared the feast. The woods were ransacked by special committees of girls, big and little, aided by some white-capped "Sister" Hübener or "Sister" Benade. Every room and hall was gradually turned into a bower of green for the fortnight. The spinning that was left over from the year's "stint" was hurried to its end, the pupils being allowed regular "spinning-days," when, in place of books, they sat in rows, with their wheels whirring away all the morning and afternoon, often a school feast of "chocolate and pancakes" winding up the evening. Next, the "Sisters" of the community and the older girls began to arrange an elaborate scene of the birth of Christ as described in the Gospels, much as in many Roman Catholic churches it is done to-day. The Virgin and the Child Jesus, Joseph and the three Wise Men, the Shepherds, the rude stable--all were imitated by dressed and good-sized figures, with care, and as tastefully as possible. But no girl was allowed a peep at this (unless she were helping in preparing it) until Christmas eve. It can be imagined that curiosity ran in a strong current, among the smaller scholars especially.

Besides this, a little Christmas play, or rather a dialogue, was often written expressly for performance more or less in public (to invited guests, as well as the scholars and teachers), rehearsed and polished to the utmost, in honor of Christmas. Some of these, many of them written by a certain clever "Sister" Langard, or by poetical "Sister" Kleist, are quaint and amusing reading nowadays--not at all like the sort of "private theatricals" that young ladies' boarding-schools relish in our time, but they had a beauty of their own not yet vanished. In the great school--for it frequently had several scores of pupils--the idea of home life was kept strongly in view, and part of the process was the dividing of the pupils into groups called "home companies," which entertained each other, assisted each other, and at Christmas-time stole away to concoct gifts for each other, to be delivered on Christmas day in the school-room or hall.

The afternoon before Christmas brought the expected surprises and pleasures. The patrons of the school, clergy-men, lawyers, and doctors, and all the honored folk of Bethlehem town, in their best wigs and finest petticoats, came from far and wide. During the Revolutionary war, in 1777, it is recorded that "physicians and surgeons and convalescent officers" were among the company. The Christmas play was played; and very charming must some of the young speakers in it have been, as they gravely spoke its sober lines, some of them pretty long ones. The concert was not less formal nor less enjoyed, and "the newest music by Herr Mozart or Mr. Cherubini" was played and sung. In the evening came a meeting in the chapel, at the close of which each girl "under twelve years of age" was given a burning taper to hold while a Christmas Hymn was sung. By this time, too, the great mystery of the decorated room was opened, and all the scholars were invited to admire its wonders. The morning of Christmas brought the signal for present-making and a general holiday, on which occasion the ancient school buildings were full of quiet happiness.

Many famous men in the war and peace of that time were glad to be honored by invitations to "the Moravian Christmas at Bethlehem." General Washington, General Lafayette, General Greene (whose daughters were educated in the school), General Schuyler, Colonel Ethan Allen, Benjamin Franklin, and scores of other Revolutionary names were always on its invitation list and more or less regularly expected to be present. And it is pleasant to think that to-day Christmas comes to the same stanch old school--not to be celebrated in the same way, but not less honored within its walls.

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.

All this question of spending and saving money which Edith and Charlotte ask me to talk about is one that cannot be settled in a few paragraphs. It is too large. The fact is, we ought to regard money as a talent, something to be used in a responsible way, and neither wasted nor hoarded, but handled so as to bring us the best returns in profit and pleasure.

It is pleasant for a girl to earn money and feel that it is her very own. Ethel's mother is paying Ethel for teaching her little brother Eddie to play the piano, and I have no doubt that Ethel earns the money, for Eddie is a perfect flutter-budget, and does not yet realize the necessity for careful practice, and so he must be called and seated and supervised generally, every afternoon, by his young music teacher, who, being only "sister," and not a rigid disciplinarian with a severe face and stern manner, has sometimes a rather difficult time of it. When a young girl can assist her mother in some way, as, for instance, by becoming her private secretary, and looking after her mother's social duties, answering notes, taking care of an address list, and in many ways lightening her mother's burden, she ought to have a little regular salary, in acknowledgment of her services, if her mother can afford to give it to her. All daughters, I am sure, are happy to assist their mothers without payment, but when it can be given, it is a pleasant arrangement for both sides.