Chapter X: Test Trials (1)

We did not proceed to sea, as it had been expected that we should, but we stretched several new sails, and the Captain marked them for alteration by the ship's sail-maker, much as a tailor changes the cut of a coat to secure a proper fitting. The men were made to take their positions at the guns, and I found that I had been made a second captain of the long 12-pounder, and was expected to work the roller handspike in getting her into position. For three long hours we were kept at this, slewing the guns hither and thither, aiming and gauging distance, and bringing powder and shot from the magazines. Of course we indulged in no firing, but served the pieces in pantomime.

The men appeared eager, and I could see that Captain Temple looked pleased at their performance. The majority were old hands, and needed little schooling. There is no use denying it, they _jumped_ to the best of their ability. But my trial was soon to come. Most of the greenhorns had been enrolled into a company of marines. They were standing in an awkward row arranged in the waist, and keeping out of the way of the more experienced gunners who were indulging in the mimic battle.

"Debrin!" called a voice. "Pass the word for Debrin."

A squint-eyed bowlegged boatswain's mate was bawling about the deck.

For an instant I was so confused that I almost forgot the name I had assumed.

"Here!" I called at last, with my heart giving a wild leap into my throat. I gave over the roller handspike to my friend of the night before, and the boatswain's mate looked at me out of his crooked eyes.

"The old man wishes to speak to you," he said, in a low voice.

I stepped aft and pulled off my cap, as I had seen the other sailors do.

"Take hold of those gawk-legs and lick them into shape," said Captain Temple, apparently counting up my ribs as he looked me through and through. "You say you know the drill. There's a rack of muskets forward on the berth-deck, and a chest of cutlasses at the after-ladder. If any one gives you a sneer or a back word make him sweat his blood."

I hope that the quiver that went over me was not apparent, but I felt a cold sensation from my chest to the end of my spine. Now, as it happened, I had watched closely, as a boy, the drilling of the train-band at Baltimore, where I learned much from my friend the Major, and had once formed a company of my schoolmates at Mr. Thompson's, electing myself their leader. I tried to recall the orders of command and the positions as I marched the men below and armed them at the rack. But when I came back to the deck I was again seized with a fit of trembling that made me keep in movement to conceal it, for I perceived that those under me were watching with some curiosity to see what I should do. Besides this, it appeared to my imagination that all the crew were standing about with popping eyes, ready to laugh at me if I should open my mouth. So I took a long swallow, threw back my head and shoulders (ah! there is nothing like it to keep up one's courage!) and adopting a terse mode of speech, I began to sift the men into military shape, according to their height.

My uncle had impressed one thing upon my mind as the surest way to obtain authority; it was not to make men hear, but to make them listen; so I did not shout, but endeavored to speak in low firm tones, explaining to the men as I gathered them into line how they should stand and hold themselves. Some were inclined to smile at first, and indeed I cannot blame them; for despite my size, my youth was evident, no matter my air of authority.

To those who appeared amused I kept repeating my instructions until the grin had faded from their faces, and at last I felt that feeling which expands the spirit of the holder of it--the sense of authority over others. So stepping out before them, I picked up a musket and began to drill them according to my recollection of the manual of arms.

If there had been an expert present, he might have found some fault with my method, but I got through without a hitch, and I might claim, without boasting, that I held attention. Over and over again we went through the motions. I was wondering whether there was to be no time limit to the drill, when suddenly some one spoke to me from behind.

"Very good, drill-master," said Mr. Bullard. "Dismiss the landsmen, and take up the boarders with some cutlass-work."

The muskets returned to the racks, I once more came on deck, and found that I had to face a very different ordeal. There, awaiting me, were thirty or forty sailor-men--I could see that at a glance. They regarded the idea of my instructing them as something of a huge joke, for they stood there open-mouthed and nudging one another, half sneering, and all whispering. As soon as I took the position of "on guard," I noticed that some of them fell into it at once involuntarily, but others displayed an awkwardness that I knew must be premeditated. Now was the time for me to stand or fall.

I stepped up to a tall man who topped me by half a head, and bidding him stand out, I gently pushed him into the right position, moulding him, as it were, and paying no attention to the anger which flashed in his eyes and drew the corners of his mouth. The rest were becoming interested, but I saw that they were not grinning at me now, but at their messmate. Satisfied that the man could do what I wished, I again gave the order for them to act together. The tall sailor twisted his cutlass in his hand and held it upside down. Once more, as if believing this came from sheer stupidity, I went through the same performance, trying to speak kindly and firmly, but really on the verge of breaking down. Three times did I do this, and then the man succumbed.

But I had not finished. On the left of the line was a short, thick-set foretopman, with brawny, tattooed arms. Apparently he considered himself beyond all this and an adept with the weapon, for he indulged in side remarks that set those near him tittering, and he exaggerated all my motions. I saw that he was a leader in his way, and that for comfort's sake I should have him with me, so I called the others to a rest, and bade this man step forward. He did so in a careless, jaunty way, although his face had reddened. Placing him before me, I told all hands to observe me closely; that I would show them the bad effect of too open a guard and too lowered a point. It was a dangerous game to play, perhaps, but I called upon the seaman to make the various cuts and thrusts at my head and body. He did so with a vengeance, and it took all my strength to keep him from reaching me.

Captain Temple and the other officers had gathered in a little knot to one side and were watching. My blood was up, and I would rather have died than fail in what I was attempting. So I called upon the man to guard himself, and assured him that I would not harm him. Keeping my wrist well up, I told him to have a care of his left cheek. He grinned in reply. By a quick motion, the secret of which Monsieur de Brienne had taught me (for he was an adept with the broadsword as well as with the rapier), I got inside the man's guard and laid my blade along his throat. I well believe I could have severed his head from his body with a backward draw-stroke. The man paled and clinched his teeth. I resumed my position, with my eyes fixed on his, for I feared mischief. Then using the same movement that I had in my encounter with Captain Temple, I twisted his blade from his grasp and sent it flying. I verily believe it would have gone overboard had it not caught a stay overhead. Picking it up myself before any one could reach it, I returned it to him, and he stepped back into the ranks. I had no more trouble after that.

Now, strange as it may seem, when I got away I went forward and leaned out of an open port, and there, for some strange reason, the strain under which I had been laboring almost overcame me, and it was all I could do to keep from sobbing or to control the shaking of my limbs. While crouched there I felt a hand laid on my shoulder, and looking up I saw it was Edmundson, the Third Lieutenant.

"The Captain wishes to speak to you in the cabin, lad," he said, kindly. "Jump aft."

When I entered the plainly furnished little space, for the quarters of the officers were almost as confined as those of the crew, I saw that Captain Temple was sitting at the end of the table, which was covered with open charts. He looked up, and seeing who it was, half smiled.

"Debrin," he said, "you have done well. If you are as good a sailor as you are a swordsman, you will end this cruise an officer. This is more than I have ever said in the way of praise or promise to any living man. Forget it, and do your duty."

I could not have replied at this moment, for my wits left me; so I merely touched my forehead in salute, and went forward again. I could see that the men were whispering, and it was all I could do to hide my embarrassment. I believe that I was blushing like a schoolgirl.

The next day was a repetition of this one, albeit the work was quite easy for me, and I grew keen with the interest of it. The Fourth Lieutenant, a Mr. Spencer, arrived in the afternoon; and a sergeant, who had served in the army, was enlisted as a Lieutenant of marines. Apparently he found no fault with whatever they had been taught under my instruction, and Sutton, the man with whom I had had the passage of arms, came to me to learn the disarming stroke. As I met him more than half-way in this overture, we became friendly. In the afternoon I endeavored to get ashore (oh, how I wished to talk to Mary!), and I was delighted at being one of the crew that pulled Captain Temple to the wharf at six o'clock.

Captain Temple's stay on shore, however, had been short, consisting merely of a visit to Mr. McCulough's office (the latter was part owner of the _Young Eagle_), and I got no chance to run up into the town, as I had intended. My wish, if it were possible, to get another glimpse of Mary Tanner, was frustrated. This fortune was not to be mine. Oh, one thing that I almost came to forgetting: On the pier, standing in the crowd, was Gaston, his outrageous black hat tied about with a streamer and his long cloak flapping about his shanks. I doubt not the people were making fun of him. But he did not recognize me, and I breathed more freely.

As we rowed back to the ship, I heard the Captain say to a caderverous-looking man who had joined him at the dock with a big bundle and an oak chest,

"Well, Mr. Flemming, we sail on the early tide to-morrow."

The new-comer was the ship's surgeon, and one of the bowmen observed to me, as we got the gig up at the davits,

"Well, messmate, how would you like old sawbones there to take a hack at you--eh, Johnny?"

I might state, if I have not done too much bragging in this chapter already, that I had already received a nickname in the forecastle, and was known as "Johnny Cutlass," which, instead of resenting, I felt quite proud of.

The stays and running-gear were tested and made taut before the nightfall, and all sorts of stories went from lips to lips concerning our destination. Some said northward to the Gulf of St. Lawrence; others declared that the Spanish main would be our cruising-ground; while a few asserted that nothing but the English Channel would please old "Kill Devil."

Now whither we were bound, of a truth I never found out, and of this I will speak at some length, and give a strange accounting. My, but I was tired when at last I got into my hammock!

* * * * *

Although it was very early in the morning when the tide was at the flood, a large crowd had gathered at the shore to watch us set sail. It was a damp, low-clouded day.

A fifer had been discovered among the landsmen, and hardly had I reached the deck, sleepily rubbing my eyes, when he began to pipe a merry jig step; the men fitted the capstan bars to the capstan, and while some scrambled aloft, as many as could lay hold and find foot room began trotting merrily about to the music. In came the cable, a couple of men alongside slushing it with water to keep the black mud off the deck, and slowly the _Young Eagle_ walked up to her anchor. A slight breeze was blowing toward the mouth of the harbor, and the foresail and top-sail fluttered and caught it. A faint cheer sounded from the wharves, and the crew answered. Then the brass swivel on the forecastle cracked out a salute, and the privateer was off for adventures.

A wild exhilaration thrilled me, but I could see that I was not the only one affected in this manner. A double allowance of grog had been served as soon as we were under way. I tasted it, of course, and it burned my throat like fire, so that I handed my allowance to Sutton, thereby cementing the friendship that had sprung up between us, and it was not bad policy.

Soon Fishers Island and the mainland faded out in the blotch of gray fog that, despite the wind, hung all around. And now, as if to test the seamanship of the crew, sails were taken in and spread again, and as the wind increased the brig heeled over until the sea was roaring and tumbling along her rail, and the lower sails were wet with the splash of the spray as it flew across the deck. But there was no stopping the headway of the little vessel as she met the heavy ground-swell of the ocean. There was none of the thumping that I remembered hearing on board the old _Minetta_.

One great, hairy-chested fellow, as fine a specimen of a sailor as I ever saw, swung his arms about his head and gazed up at the swelling sails.

"Oh, oh! isn't she a beauty?" he exclaimed. "A darling ship! Ay, she's a sweetheart!"

There was an accent of love and of admiration in this that was not to be mistaken; his speech rang with a worshipfulness that was contagious. I caught it and could have shouted.

The last boat to leave the shore had brought off to the ship what appeared to me to be a load of old iron. Apparently short crowbars fastened on rings, and cannon balls welded together by solid bars of iron or attached to each other with short lengths of chain. Fearing to ask what they were, although I knew not, I waited for some landsman less ashamed of his ignorance than I to ask their meaning. My lanky friend who swung with me was the means of my finding out what I wished.

"What are they?" he inquired. "Those things in the boat?"

"Them's Yankee tricks," answered the squint-eyed quartermaster, "and four of them will do more damage in walking through a vessel's rigging than a frigate's broadside. They're British puzzlers."

They were the dreaded star-shot and chain-shot that the English had declared barbarous and inhuman in warfare, for what reason they or no one else could tell you; but they were fearsome things in battle, and this I had afterwards a chance to witness and can subscribe to.

About noon the wind had died away, and the fog thickened, and we drifted, heaving and rearing in the smooth round seas. I had more of a chance to observe the people whom I supposed I was to live with for the next few months. The great majority of them were fine Yankee seamen, men who had served on merchant-vessels or in the Marblehead fishing-fleet, typical Down-Easters, with a scattering of sailors who had seen service on board vessels of the navy. There were a few foreigners, Portuguese or Spaniards, I should judge, quick, active men with black hair and wiry frames. Some rough-looking characters there were, too, whose faces showed instincts not all the best, and, as I have said before, a scattering of countrymen making their first voyage filled out the complement.

The threshing and moving of the vessel seemed to discommode these latter, and many were ill, and wished themselves ashore, I take it, from their looks (one or two desired to die, I am sure). In the little steerage four or five prize-masters bunked together. They were mostly men past middle age, and had the appearance of broken down seafarers, and the majority of them were prone to the bottle habit, unless they belied their appearance. In all there were crowded on board the _Young Eagle_ in the neighborhood of one hundred and thirty souls, perhaps more.

I have never seen any one so careful of detail as Captain Temple. He would permit no slouching in appearance, as well as duty. There was an attempt at uniform; and the forecastle, and in fact the whole vessel, was inspected by him as regularly as if she were a man-of-war.

Odd to relate, the skipper himself was a teetotaler when at sea, no matter what his behavior was when dry ground was beneath him. To show his carefulness and regard for neatness, I heard him rate a man severely for not being clean shaven. His own costume, in which he looked most picturesque, would have attracted attention anywhere. He wore his huge cocked hat set lightly athwartships on his head, his neat blue coat fitted his trim figure to a nicety, and his legs were encased in Hessian boots with gold tassels, like those of a dandy. In fact he was a handsome man to look at, and there were stories about his being a great favorite with the ladies.

Junior officers get their key from their commander, and although our Lieutenants did not present so fine an appearance or wear their clothes so well, they were a good-looking set, and all young men with the exception of Edmundson, who may have turned forty odd.

All night long the fog hung about us. We had been drilled during the day, and never have I seen a crew pick up so much knowledge in such a short space of time.

After breakfast on the second day the fog-bank lifted, and land was made out to the northwest. I heard one of the officers say that it was Montauk Point. A slight wind was stirring, and we sailed on, steering south by west, and by noon we had sunk the headland, and a cry came down from aloft that a sail was in sight to windward. We altered our course, and made in the direction of the stranger. An air of eagerness showed in the faces of the crew. I fairly believe that some of them began to count upon their share of prize-money. As the other vessel was approaching, soon we could see her from the deck.

She was bringing the wind with her, and had all sails set, stu'n'-sails and royals. Mr. Spencer went aloft, and took a squint from the cross-trees, through the glass. All hands were watching him, and the way he hastened down to the deck showed that he had something to communicate. This was evident, for immediately the _Young Eagle_ was hove to, and then put before the wind.

"Old Kill Devil's changed his mind, I reckon," said Sutton, the foretopman, coming up to me. "And he wouldn't without good reason, you can bet a cotton hat. Now to my way of thinking, that vessel's an English frigate, unless it be one of our own, as the Johnnie Bulls generally sail in company."

It soon became evident that it was Temple's intention to give the on-comer as wide a berth as possible, for we spread every stitch we had, and steered a more westerly course. It was thick weather up aloft, and the sunlight barely filtered through it. But it was one of those days when distance is hard to judge, the sea one dead gray-green, with no flash or change in color, and nothing to tell whether the horizon was five miles off or twenty--nothing but the white sails of the approaching vessel, and occasionally a sight of the dark hull lifting underneath the canvas.

We were holding our own quite well, with perhaps a slight gaining on the pursuer, for such she had become, when the fog began to lower, or better, we ran into it. It thickened, and soon we could see nothing but the heaving water fading into a gray wall at a distance of a few hundred feet.

We took in our kites, and squaring the yards, changed our course to the northward. The interest was less intense now, owing to the other vessel being out of sight, and Captain Temple's evident intention was to give her the slip and let her pass to the southward of us. For two hours we sailed on. It had grown lighter overhead, as if all the clouds had settled down upon us; but occasionally we caught a glimpse of sunlight and blue sky.

I lay on my back against the bowsprit with my hands under my head. I was thinking of the strange life that I had led, and wondering what my uncle thought of my strange disappearance. Why had old Gaston pursued me to Stonington, and what a lugubrious figure he had presented standing there on the dock in that strange head-gear! Of course this brought me to thinking of Mary also, and I put my hand inside the bosom of my shirt. There was the rose that she had given me, and that I had carefully pinned in a wrapping of strong paper. But my thoughts were interrupted by a sudden commotion. A man who had been aloft for some reason or other, disentangling the color halyards, which had fouled the main-truck, if I remember right, suddenly gave a shout.

"Sail, ho, to windward!" he cried. And never have I seen a man get to deck so quickly. He jumped the last twelve feet off the ratlines to the deck, and ran aft. Temple and Mr. Edmundson came forward to meet him. What he said was heard distinctly.

"I can make out the topsails of a vessel above the fog, sir, not much above a mile to windward. She's bearing down upon us."

The way that Captain Temple tripped aloft showed that he was a topman, and one of the best. Edmundson, although a larger man, was not far behind them. And all hands watched them make their way to cross-trees and swarm up higher. Then we could see they were pointing. Quickly they descended to the deck. Mr. Spencer, and Bullard, and the prize-masters had all come on deck. The crew also were gathered amidships.

"It's the English frigate," said Temple, in a whisper. (As I was standing close by I caught the words distinctly.) "She must have us in sight from aloft. Our top-gallant-masts are plain to view. Ecod, we'll fool them, though," he cried, "if this fog holds."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE SCHOOLBOY OF SIBERIA.

BY W. H. JACKSON.

The word Siberia recalls a broad yellow space across the map of northern Asia, with a dot here and there for a town with an unpronounceable name; and that is about all any of us knew of Siberia when your father and I were boys. But we are beginning to learn better, and the person old or young who now speaks of that country as a barren stretch of forests and marshes, where the people wear furs most of the time, and live mainly on seal-blubber, shows himself far behind the times.

I must confess, however, that the schools of Siberia are a little ahead of what I expected to see when I made a flying trip across the country last year. My journey was from the Pacific coast to Russia, and, in winter, by more than 3000 miles of sledge travel. It extended from Habarofsk, at the junction of the Amoor and Ussuri rivers, northeast of Peking, to the city of Krasnoyarsk, which at that time was the terminus of the railway which the Russian government is rapidly building from Moscow to the Pacific coast. This route led me through the principal cities of Siberia, and I was able to stop in most of them a few days, and thus to see many places and things of interest. Many of these cities are large and handsome towns; and as all lie in the southern part of the country, where the climate and soil are much like those of eastern Canada, they are surrounded by wide farming tracts, lumbering districts, and mines, and have a trade that reaches to great distances. These are old towns, too, for it must not be forgotten that Siberia has been growing civilized during 250 years, or about as long as the United States itself, and they are often populous also, since Irkootsk, where the Governor-General of Western Siberia lives, has about 80,000 people; Tomsk, the university town, has 30,000; Blagovestschensk, the largest city in Eastern Siberia, 40,000; and half a dozen others 10,000 or 12,000 more. They have water-works, electric lights, police and fire departments, theatres, and all the rest that belongs to a wide-awake town; but they are proudest of their schools and the institutions of religion and public charity.

In every city the central school-house, or gymnasium, as it is called, is one of the largest, most costly buildings, and often is surrounded by fine grounds, while within it are the best appliances that can be had. In many of them, for example, each pupil has a little desk to himself; and these are adjustable, and fitted to him, so that the short-legged youngster may have a low seat, while his next neighbor, who may be tall and thin, enjoys a higher one. This is more than most American schools can show. The walls are covered with blackboards, maps, and pictures, and always, at least in the principal rooms, there is a portrait of the Emperor, whom the Russian people often speak of as their Little Father, meaning he is next in their love and respect to the Great Father in heaven. You will notice these and some other things in the illustrations of one of the school-rooms in Krasnoyarsk, which, as well as the other pictures, has been made from a photograph taken by one of the teachers there.

Several other things are noticeable in that scene. You will observe that the right-hand corner is cut off, as if by a chimney; but this is the stove--the chimney being above it. The Russian stove is a small chamber built up of bricks, in the base of which is a fire-box, whose door in this case is hidden by the blackboard. A rousing wood fire is built in the early morning, then the doors are closed, and the dampers so regulated that the heat from the mass of coals permeates the brick walls, which diffuse a genial warmth throughout the room for the rest of the day.

In the left-hand corner is hung the _ikon_, with its ever-burning lamp, found in every Russian house or public room, great or small, and which usually consists of one or more framed tablets that contain carvings or paintings of the head of Christ, with perhaps other subjects relating to the Saviour. It is the sacred symbol of religion in the Russian (or Greek) Church, like the crucifix in the Roman Church. Their religious duties are never forgotten by the Siberians, and form an important part of the school life. Each school has a chapel--often richly decorated; and to it is attached a chaplain or priest, who holds religious services there every morning and gives instruction in sacred subjects. One of these priests is sitting at the back of this room, as you may see by his robe and his long hair, parted in the middle, and his golden cross; these are the signs of his office. He has a kindly face, and is, no doubt, the friend of every boy in the establishment.

Next to him is seated the principal--a hearty-looking man, dressed, as usual, in military uniform--and other visitors, for this is evidently an examination day. A teacher stands at the blackboard, and perhaps has asked a question which the lad before him has been unable to answer, for he has turned to another boy, who has risen at his desk as though to give the needed reply. One need not go outside our Yankee school-rooms to make a similar picture any day; but he would never see in this country the _abacus_, which is used all over Siberia, China, and Japan by pupils and teachers in their arithmetic lessons, and by merchants in their stores, instead of the pencil and paper with which we do sums too large for head-work. It is a very ancient device, and the boys who went to school in Rome before Cæsar wrote that all Gaul was divided into three parts, or Virgil declared "_Arma virumque cano_," learned their multiplication table by the help of its sliding balls.

The military rule that governs all Russia extends to the schools and colleges. They are free public schools, almost as fully as with us, and are attended by the children of the peasants and poor townspeople as well as by the sons of government officials and rich merchants, who later are to go to the university at Tomsk, or perhaps to Russia, for their college course. But here, though some are nobles by birth and others are mere peasants, all are treated exactly alike, and all dress in a uniform closely copied from that of the army. Even the girls--who always have separate schools from the boys--wear a simple regulation dress, so that there is no heart-burning in little Anna, from the cottage in the back street, because little Lady Anna, from the great house on the square, has a fine dress. The teachers are all regarded as officers of the government, and wear a military uniform. The school is drilled in tactics every day, and conducts all its exercises after military models, training its boys into soldierly young men. Even their play is mixed up with this, as you see in the picture of the ring game, where an officer wearing his sword stands in the centre.

The uniform is not so pretty as that worn by the cadets of our own military schools, and it is comical to see a little chap, with a round, roguish face under his flat cap, wearing big boots, and a gray overcoat belted about him with skirts long enough to touch the ground; but when he has earned the rank of corporal or sergeant in his school battalion, and feels the marks of his rank on his collar, he struts about as proud as a peacock.

Gymnastics are cultivated everywhere, and each school has a large hall devoted to calisthenics, and to exercises upon the bars, ladders, vaulting-horse, swinging-rings, trapeze, etc.; while many schools have out-of-door apparatus to be used in warm weather, such as that which appears in one of the illustrations. Everybody must go through these exercises, and some excel greatly in them, as you would expect of the sons of Cossacks, as many of them are.

Holidays are much more numerous than with us, and on these school is suspended, and parades and marches take their place. Then the school assembles, "company front," on the play-ground. All the principals, teachers, and drill-masters are here in full uniform; a band is borrowed from the garrison post, and after a few evolutions the young regiment marches away, to stirring drum and bugle notes, to some rural grove, where they have competition drills and athletic games, and then break ranks for a frolic. Lunch-time brings them all to headquarters at the roll of the drum, when every young soldier winds up with tumblers of weak tea, the hot water coming from the great brass urn, called a _samovar_, which is never far from a Russian gathering of any kind at any time of year.

Christmas in Siberia is the great day of the year for the youngsters--nowhere greater--and the soldier lads and quaint, gray girls look forward to it for weeks as they do elsewhere. I happened to be in Chita, the capital of the trans-Baikal province, at Christmas, and was invited to one of the festivals. Imagine a large and lofty room, where three or four hundred children were packed in a dense circle around a large Christmas tree ablaze with candles and loaded with good things. Outside of this circle were as many older persons as could find room--rich and poor, noble and simple--the army officer in his gold-embroidered coat jostling the peasant in sheepskin, and the grand dame in silk and sables beside the plain peasant mother, all equal in their happy interest as fathers and mothers. The exercises opened with the national anthem, led by the priests, who are very successful in teaching the children those choral songs so common and enjoyable in Russia. Dialogues and recitations followed, sometimes by little tots, and after that came games and dances--especially that curious, active, national dance, a sort of quadrille, performed by quaint little couples in uniform, with immense zest. By this time everybody was moving about, and all who wished, old and young, began waltzing to the music of the soldier band, the Governor himself, gorgeous with gold lace and orders, taking out one shy little maiden after another to spin about the polished floor. At last it was time to stop, and then everybody stood still while the children sang a final soul-stirring patriotic song to the accompaniment of blazing red lights, the older ones joining in the chorus and ending each refrain with a roar of "_h'ras!_"

THE CROWN OF AN AMERICAN QUEEN.

BY SALLY NELSON ROBINS.

In the age when America was but a name and Virginia only a hamlet, there was a dusky queen who wore a silver crown by order of his most sacred Majesty King Charles II., King of England, Scotland, France, Ireland, and Virginia.

There are few distinct Indian personalities. Powhatan, Pocahontas, Opechancanough, Totopotomoi and his wife the Queen of the Pamunkeys, are savage heroes which sentinel the seventeenth century; they all belonged to the Pamunkey tribe of the Great Powhatan Confederacy, the most powerful Indian combination that ever existed.

When the boisterous and heroic Nathaniel Bacon was in the flush of his wonderful success, and had brought his followers to Jamestown, he demanded of the Governor redress for Indian depredations and outrages. When the assembly in council was sitting, the Queen of the Pamunkeys came in, leading her son by the hand. She came to tell of grievances also. She wore a dress of black and white wampum peake and a mantle of deer-skin, "cut in a frenge" six inches from the outer edge. It fell loosely from her shoulders to her feet. On her head was a crown of "purple bead of shell, drilled." She was a beautiful woman, old chronicles tell us, and she walked in with a proud but aggrieved countenance.

She sat down in the midst of the assembly, listening eagerly to the arguments for the suppression and, if need be, the extinction of her race. And she remembered Totopotomoi bleeding for these people who would not recognize her rights. She arose and made a speech in her own tongue, eloquent with gesticulation; the refrain of it was a mad wail: "Totopotomoi chepiak! Totopotomoi chepiak!" (_i.e._, Totopotomoi dead).

Colonel Hill the younger, touched a fellow-member on the shoulder, and whispered: "What she says is true. Totopotomoi fought with my father, and fell with his warriors."

But the assembly would not listen to the poor suffering Queen. They wanted more men to fight more battles, and the Queen of the Pamunkeys must furnish her quota.

"How many men will you furnish?" asked Nathaniel Bacon. "How many will you give to fight and subdue the treacherous tribes which threaten our peace?"

The Queen was silent. She remembered her husband and his slain braves. She had fears for her son, and she would not speak.

"How many?" asked Bacon again.

The poor Queen had her head turned away, and bowed.

"How many?" demanded the famous rebel again.

Then she slowly turned her lovely face, and softly whispered, "Six."

Her answer infuriated Bacon, who considered the number contemptible. "How many more?" again he asked.

The Queen gave him a glance of indignant hate, and haughtily answered, "Twelve." Then she gathered her robes about her, and majestically left the room.

Once again do we see the Queen of the Pamunkeys, and now in fear and adversity. Bacon in his mad career destroyed the Pamunkey settlement--the same tribe which had so nobly assisted the English.

The poor Queen, terrified, fled far into the forest, accompanied by "onely a little Indian boy." Her old nurse followed her, but was captured. Bacon ordered the old woman to guide him to a certain point, but she, full of revenge, led him in an opposite direction, whereupon the rebel ordered her to be knocked in the head.

The Queen wandered about almost crazy, and at last determined to return and throw herself upon Bacon's mercy; but as she was rushing towards her desolated wigwam she came upon the body of her murdered nurse, which so affrighted her that she ran back into the wilderness, where she remained "fourteen daies without food, and would have perished but that she gnawed on the legg of a terrapin which the little Indian boy brought her."

So this Queen in history has but a few bold touches, but they pass her down as a martyr, in consequence of which, and for what her husband did, Charles II. bestowed upon her a silver crown, with the lion of England, the lilies of France, and the harp of Ireland engraved thereon.

Savages are not averse to the baubles of civilization, and the crown which their Queen wore was a blessed treasure to her tribe for a hundred years after the Queen was dead.

The Pamunkey tribe, or a pitiful remnant of them, still dwell in Virginia, on the river which bears their name. They have a chief and their own government. Annually they send tribute of fish and game and Indian handiwork to the Governor of Virginia. They are weakening physically, and pray for new blood from the Western reservation.

Once they started for the West, carrying their best treasure, the silver crown. They came to the plantation of Mr. Morson, at Falmouth, and there bad weather and sickness made them halt. Mr. Morson attended to their physical wants, and allowed them to pitch their tents upon his land until their distress abated.

"What do we owe you?" asked the chief, when they had decided to return to their former Virginia reservation.

"Nothing," said Mr. Morson. Perhaps he remembered Totopotomoi and his sorrowing Queen.

"Then we will give you what we value most," and the chief presented to Mr. Morson the crown of the Queen of the Pamunkeys. For three generations it staid in the Morson family, but lately it has been purchased by the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities.

The crown is really a frontlet, and the Queen of the Pamunkeys wore it upon her brow surmounted by a red velvet cap; the cap has long ago been entirely destroyed by moths; two silver chains bound the frontlet to the head.

The All-New-York Interscholastic Football Team for 1896 is as follows:

HAROLD HASBROUCK, _Berkeley_ left end.
JEREMIAH MANNING, _De La Salle_ left tackle.
B. P. KINNEY, _St. Paul's_ left guard.
W. B. BOORUM, JUN., _Poly. Prep._ centre.
G. H. MILLER, _De La Salle_ right guard.
MARSHALL PAGE, _Trinity_ right tackle.
D. P. WHITE, _St. Paul's_ right end.
T. B. TAYLOR, _Trinity_ quarter-back.
W. DICKERSON, JUN., _B'klyn High_ half-back.
J. D. TILFORD, JUN., _De La Salle_ r. h.-b.
S. L. M. STARR, _St. Paul's_ full-back.

The selection of an All-New-York Football team this year is not an easy task. There is a wealth of material to choose from, but the very fact of there being so many players of almost equal merit makes the task all the harder. The season just closed has been a remarkable one in the history of interscholastic football both in New York and Brooklyn, and the contest for the championship of both cities has been a most stubborn one. The teams have shown marked improvement in their knowledge of the game and the variety and execution of their plays, and the boys have shown an aptitude for the sport that gives great promise for the future. The team selected is a remarkably heavy one, and under proper coaching and training would undoubtedly put up a magnificent game against any college eleven.

Hasbrouck of Berkeley School is undoubtedly entitled to the position of left end. He weighs 177 pounds, is a very fast runner, a sure tackler, and strong at breaking up interference. He played on the '93, '94, and '95 teams, and understands his position thoroughly. He gets down the field under kicks with remarkable speed, and rarely, if ever, misses a tackle. He is not liable to be easily hurt, and only once during the season has he been injured painfully, his injury consisting of the dislocation of a shoulder. He captained the Berkeley team this year, and would undoubtedly have turned out a far stronger team had he not been hampered by outside influences.

At left tackle Manning of De La Salle seems to be the best choice. He weighs 176 pounds, is a very fast runner, a hard tackler, and a sure ground-gainer when the ball is given to him. A remarkably powerful fellow, he rarely is injured, and has played the entire season through, improving with every game. He breaks through his opponent with great fierceness, and goes at interference with a determination that is simply irresistible.

Kinney of St. Paul's is thoroughly able to take care of the position of right guard. He weighs 187-1/2 pounds, is a player of great strength and courage, breaks through his man fiercely and with determination, and added to his ability to block hard is the qualification of an able tackler. He has played two seasons on the St. Paul's team, and is a steady, reliable player that makes his presence felt in every game. He runs well with the ball, gets his head low, and carries his tackler along with him whenever he is met.

At centre, Boorum of Brooklyn Poly. Prep. could easily handle any man that has played that position in the two interscholastic leagues this season. He weighs 170 pounds, puts the ball in play with accuracy and precision, and blocks his man strongly and surely. He is a tower of strength in blocking centre plays, and has no fear of the strongest kind of interference.

At right guard I place Miller of De La Salle, who formerly played on the Peekskill Military Academy. Miller weighs 185 pounds, and is one of the strongest, fiercest, and most determined players of the Interscholastic League to-day. He is a little over six feet in height, and built proportionately. His strong feature is in his guards'-back play, in which he smashes the opponents' line wide open for his backs with the ball. He is also good at tackling and breaking through the line of his opponents, and from the beginning to the end of a game he is constantly at his opponent, and works and worries him off his feet. Add to these qualities the fact that he runs well with the ball, strong and hard, and we have a man for the position who certainly will have no trouble in making a college team.

Page of Trinity has been selected for the position of right tackle. He has a weight of 174 pounds, and his ability to run with the ball has won for him this position, as there are no other men playing the position to-day who can combine these qualities so well as himself. Hoffman of Cutler School, however, who has been playing guard, might be a better man for the position, but as I have been selecting men for positions in which they have actually played, I am compelled to give this tackle to Page.

White of St. Paul's, although he weighs only 144 pounds, has earned the position of right end. He plays it fearlessly, and with a dash and spirit that have attracted attention wherever his team has appeared on the grid-iron this year. His defence is admirable, and his offence all that could be desired. He is a sure tackler, a swift runner, and fast down the field on kicks and punts, and the position of right end will be well taken care of in his hands.

At quarter-back the contest is a close one between Taylor of Trinity and Blout of St. Paul's. Both are ideal in their position, but of late Blout has fallen off considerably in his passing, while Taylor improves with every game that is played. This fact alone gives the position to Taylor. He weighs 148 pounds, and gets into the interference for his runner with the same accuracy and swiftness with which he gets the ball to his man. He strikes his opponent low with the shoulder, and hard, and almost invariably puts the tackler out if he has the opportunity to do so. He also runs well with the ball himself, when it is given to him from one of the backs on a pass, and as a tackler he has few equals in the Interscholastic League to-day.

At left half-back the choice falls upon Dickerson of Brooklyn High-School. He weighs 174 pounds. He was Captain of his team this year, and ran it in a masterly manner. His line-bucking is a strong feature of his play. He meets the line low and hard, and never ceases to work forward with the ball until he is absolutely down with the team on top of him. He is also good at punting, and has made some remarkable kicks this year.

At right half I place Tilford, the Captain of the De La Salle team, which won the New York Interscholastic championship this year. Although a light man, weighing only 136 pounds, his play this season has been of such a dashing and brilliant nature that he has displaced all other aspirants for the position. Strange as it may seem, he is the equal of any half-back to-day in breaking the line, and is a very fast runner, sure ground-gainer, and strong at tackling.

Sidney Starr, of St. Paul's School, has been selected for the position of full-back. He weighs 175 pounds, and probably there are few men who can excel him in interfering for the runner on end plays, or in backing him up when bucking the line. Starr is also a kicker of more than average ability. He gets his punts off quickly without any hesitation, and has the faculty of putting a twist on his punts that makes it very hard for the opposing backs to handle them accurately. As Captain of the St. Paul's team this year, champions of the Brooklyn Interscholastic League, he has run his team with great judgment and skill, and is entitled to much credit for the successful manner in which he carried them all through the season.

Although I give him the position of full-back, after a careful consideration of his qualifications, I am forced to state that the position would have fallen to Franklin Bien, Jun., of Berkeley, were it not for the fact that Bien's playing this year has been greatly handicapped by the injury he received early in the season during the game between Berkeley School and St. Paul's at Garden City. Bien is the equal of Starr in his all-round work, but his liability to injury in a game makes him slightly timid in his work, and takes away the dash and the spirit and determination that characterized him during the preceding season. For this reason Starr gets the position, and for this reason alone.

Bien is entitled to a position as first substitute full-back. As substitute guards I would name Gilson of Berkeley, Rafter of De La Salle. As substitute guard and tackle, Hoffman of Cutler. As substitute ends, Bennett of De La Salle and Loraine of St. Paul's; and as substitute centre, Taves of Trinity.

This All-New-York Eleven makes up a very heavy team. The line especially averages a good weight, and under proper coaching ought to be able to stand up against a team of older players with credit to itself. With such a line as this in front of them, the two plunging backs, Starr and Tilford, ought to be able to make big gains through any opponents, and, on the whole, I think that if the New York schools should send this team to represent them against any other combination of eleven men, they could feel perfectly confident that their side of the field would be well taken care of.

The All-Chicago Interscholastic Football Team for 1896 is as follows:

FRANK LINDEN, _Hyde Park H.-S._ left end.
WILLIAM PRENTISS, _Evanston H.-S._ left tackle.
WILLIAM MITCHELL, _Evanston H.-S._ left guard.
GORDON MACKAY, _Hyde Park H.-S._ centre.
GUNNAR GRAM, _Lake View H.-S._ right guard.
GUY KNICKERBOCKER, _Hyde Park H.-S._ right tackle.
LYNN SCHOELLENBURGER, _Englewood H.-S._ right end.
WILLIAM TALCOTT, _Englewood H.-S._ quarter-back.
CLAYTON TEETZEL, _Englewood H.-S._ left half-back.
JAMES HENRY, _Englewood H.-S._ right half-back.
D. P. TRUDE, _Hyde Park H.-S._ full-back.

In choosing the All-Chicago eleven from among the best players in the Cook County High-School Football League, the principal difficulty has been to attempt a consideration of all the players who might be candidates, and to be equally just toward those who played on weak teams, where they could naturally not show their value to such advantage as their fellows on stronger elevens. The task is rendered all the more difficult on account of the many games that were protested and postponed. However, taking all things into consideration, there seems to be little doubt that the eleven men above named would form the best eleven to represent Cook County schools.

For captain of the eleven, Talcott, quarter-back of the Englewood High-School, is the best man. He is as capable of bringing out the greatest results from a team under his command as any one. He is a brainy player, a general who uses good sound sense, and whose forethought is shown in every signal he gives. He has coolness combined with quickness, and is an indefatigable worker.

The best all-round player that has turned up in Chicago this year is Clayton Teetzel, the left half-back of the champion Englewood team. He is a man of experience, and knows the game thoroughly. Teetzel is a sprinter, and has made many remarkable runs on the field this year, and these runs have resulted from head-work rather than accident. He is an excellent dodger, runs hard, guards himself well, and bucks the line low. He is a sure tackler, seldom letting a man pass him within reach.

James Henry, of Englewood, deserves the position of right half-back on the All-Chicago team. While Teetzel is a dodger and wriggler, Henry is a steady and sure line-bucker. He cannot run so fast as Teetzel, but for short gains through the line he has no superior in Cook County. He follows his interference well, and tackles hard, and is not liable to injury. Another very fast runner is Trude of Hyde Park H.-S., who ranks as the best of the full-backs. In line-bucking he is as sure of a gain as any man on this team. There has been but little kicking in the games this fall, but Trude has shown himself to be capable of punting with the best of them. He is quick to handle the ball, and knows how to send it down the field.