Chapter XVI: Why I Never Reached France (1)

We drew up our horses before the house nearest to the stone pier or jetty that ran out some hundred feet or more from the shore. On one side of it was a small dock or basin large enough to give shelter to four or five fishing-boats about the size of those we call dories in New England.

As we dismounted, Monsieur de Brissac gave a halloo, and a figure appeared in the doorway. I was surprised to see that it was Monsieur de la Remy. He called back into the room, and a man followed him out and took our horses.

"Ah, De Brissac! you're on time as usual, and I see that you have not forgotten your way," Monsieur de la Remy cried, as he grasped my patron's elbows in his two hands in a half embrace. Then he bowed to me without much effusion. "Good-morning, Monsieur le Marquis," was all he said.

I had not known that my host of the Gloucester Arms was going to be one of us, and so expressed my surprise at seeing him. He made no explanation, but I take it he must have been in London for some time, and that he had come direct from there, although I had not met him at any of the routs or parties I had attended.

"Why should I forget my way, monsieur?" my patron said, laughing, as he paused on the door-step. "Have I not travelled it every month for three years?"

As we entered the house the Marquis de Senez was standing at the door, and greeted us in his usual reserved way. We were in a large room, and I noticed the smell of the same kind of tobacco that the sailors use on shipboard in the English service--a smell that seems to cling to them and to all of their belongings--but apparently none of the gentlemen had been smoking.

"Everything is most propitious," said De Senez, as he brought forward two chairs from the table. "Dame Fortune smiles on us. But pardon me; you have not noticed Monsieur de Rembolez."

It was then that I saw for the first time that there was a figure sitting back in the dark shadows in the corner of the room. I recognized the name, and as soon as the man stepped forward into the light of the single candle, I remembered his face, and that I had seen it in London. He was a sharp-featured, thick-set man--that is, big as to his chest and shoulders, but very light and muscular in his underpinning. His eyes were so black that they appeared all pupils, and his teeth were so large and even that I believe that he could have bitten a tenpenny nail in two with them, as his jaw also looked strong as a vise. I did not like the man, and as I had good cause to remember afterwards, he on his part had conceived no great affection for me.

At the mention of my name he merely glanced up and showed his teeth, at which I was tempted to show mine in return, for the meaning of that display was rather ambiguous. He was to be the fifth one of the party, and I am quite sure he was not of Monsieur de Brissac's choosing.

"It's a good night for the crossing," observed Monsieur de Senez. "Did you see the lookout on the cliff as you came down?"

"I doubt not he saw us," retained my patron. "But he probably kept well hidden. Is everything ready? Is Captain St. Croix here?"

"Yes, and most of his crew within calling distance," returned the steel-jawed man, casting a look over his shoulder.

I saw no door, or anything that would suggest that there was an adjoining room, for the one we were in occupied the whole ground-floor of the house; but behind De Rembolez was a tall oak cupboard that reached almost to the ceiling. There had come a lull in our conversation; De Senez and the host of the Gloucester Arms were talking in whispers, and Monsieur de Brissac was engaged in pulling off his heavy riding-boots. All at once the low grumbling of men's voices in talk was heard, and then an oath in good seafaring English issued apparently from the tall cupboard. I fairly jumped as the door of it was opened outward and a great, black-whiskered man stepped out of it. Then I saw where the smell of tobacco came from, for the smoke rolled out with him, and the ember in his long clay pipe was glowing.

Astonished, I looked past him, and saw that the cupboard concealed a good-sized trap-door; it was open, the top of a ladder extended through the floor, and the sound of voices came from below. It was a most ingenious idea. The cellar to which this passageway led was not under the house, but under the garden at the back of it. The floor of the room in which we were was made of hard, dry earth, and digging there would have revealed nothing.

I found out, by questioning afterwards on the voyage over, that the two other houses which abutted on the innocent-looking garden also had passageways that led to the cleverly concealed smugglers' cabin.

The bewhiskered man was addressed by the company as Captain St. Croix, but I would bet a new anchor to a ship's biscuit that he was more English than French, although his accent was fairly good.

"It looks the night for our purpose, gentlemen," he said. "We have brewed a punch below. What say you I send for some of it, and we will pledge a successful passage to the _Hirondelle_, eh?"

"And destruction to the Corsican upstart," put in he of the beady eyes.

The Captain gave a halloo down the shaft and ordered some one to bring up the punch-bowl. At the same time he set about getting us something to eat from a rough side-board near the fireplace.

Just as a man's head appeared coming up the ladder there were three sharp knocks on the door, and a tall fisher-lad in a dripping great-coat came in.

"It's thick and raining," he said. "I've seen the lights of the old boat. She'll be off the point in a few minutes."

"Then we must bear a hand," said the Captain. "So, gentlemen, let us eat and drink and dispense with ceremony."

I was very hungry, and fell to at once, as did the others. In half an hour we left the shelter of the house, and hurrying down to the dock, we were all crowded into one of the row-boats. Then pulling away, we headed against the driving rain through the half-darkness.

As it was wet when we reached the _Hirondelle_, I followed the four other gentlemen down into the little cabin, although my love of the sea was returning so strongly that I was tempted to stay on deck and court a soaking.

The little box of a place in which we were sitting was dimly lighted with a swinging lamp, and as we conversed of the plot and object of our trip (of which I shall say nothing), I could tell that we were travelling at a good rate of speed by the rushing and lapping of the water against the bull. The reason I do not give any full account of the plot in which I was supposed to be engaged is that I think even now I should keep it silent, as it concerns neither me nor my story.

After a time we all fell asleep, most of us in a sitting posture, and I was the first to awaken. It was between three and four, and still raining, when I came out of the close musty cabin and breathed the fine air. I noticed we had shortened sail, and that a man in the bow was heaving the lead. He did not call out the soundings, but signalled them to the Captain by motions of his hand. I knew we must be in shoal water, but in how many fathoms I could not tell. All at once the man at the wheel threw the lugger up into the wind, and we lay hove to for probably half an hour. Every one on deck was listening.

Suddenly the dark shape of a great row-boat could be seen approaching, and going below into the cabin I aroused the rest of the passengers; De Rembolez appeared rather nervous.

Where the lugger put off her cargo I do not know, for as soon as the five of us had clambered over her side into the row-boat, and Monsieur De Senez had given a handful of gold to the Captain, the latter stood off presumably to the southward, while we rowed directly to the east.

Not a word had been spoken by the rowers or the man at the tiller, and I was so interested in wondering what next was going to happen that I was perfectly satisfied to curb my curiosity and ask no questions. I was not anxious to anticipate, and felt really sad to think that I was soon to leave M. De Brissac--for what, I knew not.

We were off the coast between Dunkerque and Gravelines, and I should judge that the boat had rowed out some seven or eight miles. The men at the oars looked part Dutch and part French. They were a villanous-looking set, however, and the fellow at the tiller appeared little above them in order of intelligence; but while we were pulling straight ahead, the cockswain suddenly stood up straight in his box.

"Arrêtez!" he whispered, hoarsely.

The men backed-water skilfully, but yet such headway did the boat have on that it required three or four efforts before we came to a stop. There right ahead of us lay a long white, lapstreak boat, sharp at both ends. She had pulled directly athwart our bows. Had we been keeping a sharp lookout we would have seen her long before, as her crew must have had us in sight for some minutes. One glance at them told me that these men were not Frenchmen. De Rembolez had stood up almost as soon as the cockswain, and was looking forward eagerly, but I saw his face change to a puzzled expression.

"Les Anglais!" exclaimed the cockswain between his teeth.

A few strokes of the long oars that the men in the stranger craft wielded, and she was almost alongside of us.

"Un pilote," said a voice with an execrable accent and a drawling twang through the nose. "We want a pilot. Avez-vous un pilote?"

"We have no pilot for you!" answered Monsieur de la Remy, in good English. "Keep away from us."

But what was I doing at this very moment?

It was with difficulty that I was restraining an inclination to plunge overboard and strike out for the whale-boat.

It is almost past believing, but unless my eyes were playing me false, there stood my old friend Cy Plummer of the _Minetta_, balancing a boat-hook in his hand. This aside, it would have required but a close glance at the wiry, strong-knit figures and the keen sharp-featured faces, for one who knew, to declare that they were no English press-gang bullies, but Yankee sailor-men.

I was trying to find my voice, which had left me in my astonishment, but the nobleman landlord did not notice my condition, and was still continuing his warning.

"Come no closer," he said. "At your peril. We have no pilot for you."

At the same time he drew from the breast of his coat a small double-barrelled pistol.

"Who are you and where do you come from?" put in De Rembolez.

There was evidently some consternation in the white boat at hearing the sound of English. The men were leaning forward preparing to take a stroke, and Plummer was evidently perplexed and at a loss what to do, when I found my tongue.

"Plummer! Cy Plummer! get me out of this," I cried.

We were so near by this time that our oars were almost touching, but the astonishment occasioned on both sides by my sudden outbreak seemed to paralyze all hands.

"Who in the name of Davy Jones are you?" Plummer questioned, quickly.

"John Hurdiss of the _Young Eagle_," I cried, throwing off my cloak. Just as I was about to dive overboard I felt myself grasped about the arm.

It was De Rembolez who had laid hold of me. The words he hissed I did not catch, but in order to loose myself I drew back my free hand and caught him a blow fairly between the eyes. He did not relax his hold, however, and endeavored to throw me into the bottom of the boat. Although he was a powerful man, he probably did not know much about wrestling. I had the firmer footing, and twisting him round, I turned the tables, and was forcing him away from me, when he sank his great white teeth into the sleeve of my coat. Had he caught my flesh I might have lost the use of my arm, but as it was he laid hold of the cloth only, and the sleeve parted at the shoulder; but the little French cockswain now decided to take a hand, and sprang upon me from behind, but the result was to my helping. I just remembered hearing the sharp snapping of Monsieur de la Remy's pistol, which missed fire, when I went overboard over the gunwale, and with me fell Beady Eyes and the little cockswain. I came up between the two boats. In the mean time both the crews were laying about with their oars over my head, and there was a lusty scrimmage going on. As soon as he felt the water closing over him, De Rembolez released his hold, but the little 'longshoreman in the striped shirt still held on, and before I knew it some one grabbed me and him also, and pulled us both over into the long white boat. Somehow the combatants had drifted apart, and with a quickness that was surprising the Yankees had got out their oars and were giving way.

I scrambled to my feet, and looking over the stern I saw that the other boat was after us, but they never could have caught us had they been pulling two men on a thwart. In five minutes they turned about and made off in the opposite direction.

"Douse my top-lights!" exclaimed Plummer, leaning forward and smearing the blood away from a slight wound on the side of his face. "Where, in the name of goodness, did you come from, lad?"

"From an English prison, in the first place," I said; "but it's a long story. Oh, but I will be glad to see our colors again!"

The French cockswain here interrupted any more questions or explanations by an effort to jump overboard.

"Lay hold of him," cried Plummer to the men in the bow. "Hold the frog-eater!" and in a minute they had pinioned the little Frenchman down. "Pull, larboard; hold, star-board!" Plummer cried all at once, jamming the helm down, and I, following the glance of his eye, saw the outlines of a vessel not five hundred yards away.

"What ship is that?" I asked.

"The _Yankee_, privateer," my friend replied. "The luckiest vessel ever launched--that's honest truth. Oh, we've some yarns to spin, my son, and so must you, and, ecod! we'll have a time of it. I can scarce believe that it is you at all, lad. But it's just the sort of a thing I might expect would happen on a cruise like the one we've had since leaving Buzzard's Bay."

"Well, I have had some adventures myself, Plummer," I said. "And in the very first place, I owe you a debt of gratitude for the loan of the clothes and cap, my man."

Now upon my soul I did not mean to be condescending in my speech, but there must have been something in my tone that caused the honest seaman to make a change in his.

"I hope they brought you luck, sir," he said.

I noticed that he had said "sir" involuntarily.

"Indeed they did," I returned. "I'll have to tell you all about it."

But now the bowmen were getting in their oars, and we were close alongside of a small topsail schooner, as fine a bit of ship-building as one would wish to see. She was hove to, and the great mainsail was crackling, and the reef-points keeping up a continuous drumming against it; and the sound was good to my ears.

"What have we here?" called a voice over the rail, only a few feet above our heads.

"A pilot and a passenger," answered Plummer, fending the whale-boat off from the side of the schooner with his hands.

A short rope was thrown over to us, and, laying hold of it, I clambered over the bulwarks, and came down on deck, where I found myself face to face with one of the strangest-looking figures that I have met in the course of my adventures.

Before me stood a slight stoop-shouldered man, dressed in a blue broadcloth coat and a long yellow satin waist-coat. He had on a pair of tight-fitting buckskin breeches thrust into heavy sea-boots. The expression on his face was the remarkable thing about him. At first I thought that he was laughing at me, for his light blue eyes had such an eager twinkling light in them that they appeared to show amusement. His mouth was parted in a smile, and a continual lifting and lowering of his eyebrows lent the idea that he considered me or my appearance some huge joke.

"Is this the passenger or the pilot?" he asked, lifting a heavy cocked hat, and giving it a little flourish, as it were, over his head.

"Neither passenger nor pilot," I replied, "but an escaped prisoner from England, who is anxious to get a chance to fight for America again. I was captured from the _Young Eagle_, privateer."

The man's voice had surprised me. It was as fresh and young as a boy's. When I mentioned the _Young Eagle_ he made a grimace as if he were about to whistle, but he changed it to a little rippling laugh.

"Oh, ho! Temple of Stonington, eh! Such a reckless, careless devil. I know him. Good sailor, though. So you would ship with us?"

"Yes, sir," I answered. "And try to do my duty."

"Oh, we can use you, never fear," the strange man chuckled. "And now where are we?"

"Eh?" I ejaculated.

"What's our latitude and longitude?" he inquired.

This was a puzzler for me, for I hardly knew one from the other, and could not have answered.

"Do you mean to say that you don't know that?" I asked, trying to fend off answering.

"I haven't the slightest idea where I am," he answered. "I don't know whether I'm in the English Channel, the North Sea, or the Bay of Biscay."

This was told to me as if it were another huge joke, but I thought it was a strange condition for the Captain of a vessel to be in.

"We're off the coast of France," I said, "not far from Dunkerque."

"Dunkerque?" repeated the Captain. "Ho, ho! that's fortunate."

At this moment Plummer, with two or three of the crew of the whale-boat, which was being hoisted in, came aft. They had the little Frenchman, who looked half frightened to death, with them.

"Here's the pilot, Captain Gorham," Plummer said, touching his cap.

The Captain's reply to this, and the effect of it, almost took my breath away.

"Ah, Pierre," he said, "c'est donc vous? How is Madame Burron, and the little ones?"

The little Frenchman drew back, and then fell at the Captain's feet, grasping his hand.

"Ah, Capitaine Rieur, bonne fortune!" he cried, and he mumbled something I could not catch.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

CAPTAIN LEARY'S SAMOAN EXPERIENCE.

SOME STIRRING INCIDENTS IN RECENT AMERICAN NAVAL HISTORY.

BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.

On October 23, 1888, there occurred an incident in Apia Harbor, Samoa, which sorely tried the patience of Commander Leary, in charge of the United States war-vessel _Adams_, and which soon led directly to other incidents that nearly caused a war between this country and Germany. The representatives of the foreign governments had met a few days before, and had decided that a "neutral zone" should be established in and about Apia. A party of unarmed natives were crossing the harbor in one of their canoes, singing one of their stirring native songs. The Samoans have beautiful voices, and the lusty melody of their song was rolling across the water. They had just dug up an old and practically worthless cannon which the Tamasese party in the civil war had thrown overboard.

Suddenly two volleys of rifle-shots and several stray shots were fired from the German war-ship _Adler_ on the canoe.

Fortunately none of the party was killed, but the boat was sunk, and the natives had to swim to the shore to save their lives. Some of the shots entered houses of foreigners on shore. Leary's blood boiled with anger that such an occurrence should happen within the neutral zone, that the war-ship of any nation should fire on a body of unarmed men, and that Germany should openly take the side of the Tamasese faction in the presence of another nation's war-ship. He at once sent a vigorous letter to the Captain of the _Adler_, in which he said:

"I have the honor to inform you that the hostile attack made last
night in this harbor by an armed force under your command upon a
boat manned by natives, who were harmlessly crossing the harbor,
was an act that seriously endangered the lives of the Americans and
others, afloat and ashore, in the vicinity of Matautu, and cannot
but be regarded otherwise than a most serious affair, coming so
soon after arranging and accepting terms establishing neutral
ground within the limits of which no hostilities should occur, with
a view to securing safety to the foreign residents in and around
Apia.

"I am unable to understand your action, as the alleged causes of
the attack cannot be accepted as justifying such dangerous and
careless conduct. I shall report the affair to my government as a
gross violation of the principles of international law, and as a
breach of neutrality.

"For the security of Americans and others within the neutral lines
I protest against the apparently unwarranted attack made by your
men last night, and also against a recurrence of any hostile action
within the harbor, whereby the lives of foreigners and
non-combatants would be jeopardized."

Leary did as he said he would do, and the records of the Navy Department show that in his report to the Secretary of the Navy he characterized this conduct by the Germans as a "most dastardly disregard for the safety of human life, as well as a cowardly breach of faith and neutrality." In this connection it may be said that in some cases the language of Leary's reports was softened when they were transmitted to Congress. A close examination of the written and printed reports shows many adjectives and phrases omitted. One can imagine what was omitted.

A few days before the natives were fired upon by the _Adler_'s men another incident had occurred which showed the spirit that animated Leary. The Vaisignano bridge that connected the town of Apia with a suburb where most of the foreigners lived had been partly wrecked by a storm. Under the inspiration of the German authorities advertisements had been called for the removal of the bridge. This would have cut the foreigners off from the town, and have seriously crippled the work in the offices of the various consuls. It was proposed to establish a ferry instead of repairing the bridge. Leary saw the notice calling for the removal of the bridge posted on a tree near the bridge, and without hesitation tore it down, and sent word to the authorities that that bridge must not be removed. He then declared that he would repair the bridge, and protect it, if necessary, while this was being done with an armed force. Early the next day he lowered some boats from the _Adams_, and filled them with his sailors and marines fully armed. Then he sent his carpenters ashore, and they started to repair the bridge. The commander of the English war-ship in the harbor saw what was going on, and he also sent carpenters to assist in the work, and that bridge was never disturbed after that. The English and American residents on the island afterward co-operated in providing a suitable hospital for the wounded in the Samoan fights, and in caring for them.

By this time there was a state of almost open hostility between the German and American war-ships. The great crisis came on November 15, 1888. About seven miles from Apia the forts of the Tamasese party and the Mataafa party faced each other on property that was clearly under American protection. The Mataafa party had received notice from the Germans to vacate the place or take the consequences. Mataafa hastily sent a runner to Captain Leary and informed him of the situation. He asked for advice. Leary sent word that he had a right to remain where he was, giving him some simple information in international law. Leary also said that he would not permit the German war-ship to fire on property under his protection.

Leary received his information about dusk on November 14. The _Adler_ was to start out the next morning just before daybreak. Leary at once sent word to all of his officers who were ashore to report on board the ship by midnight, and to ask no questions. He knew that the Germans expected to steal a march on him, and were watching him to see if he had steam up. Had they seen smoke coming out of the smoke-pipes of the _Adams_ they would have probably postponed the proposed attack until some time when they might catch Leary napping. He was ready for them. He had some anthracite coal on board. He transferred some live coals from his galley fire to the furnace under one boiler of the ship, and by using hard coal had a fire started there without attracting the attention of the Germans. It was slow work. When the fire was going well under the first boiler, he transferred live coals to another boiler, and then to another, and soon after midnight had full steam up on board the ship. The Germans, who always kept steam up, had not the slightest inkling of Leary's action.

Then Leary had his anchor-chains muffled with native mats, and waited for the outcome. All hands were summoned at four o'clock in the morning. Soon the anchors of the German ship were drawn up. Leary shortened his anchors. At last the German vessel with a rush started out of the harbor. Leary's anchors were up in a jiffy. He didn't stop to take in the hawser holding his ship to a pier by the stern. He fastened one end of the rope to a buoy and threw it overboard. Leary was pointed straight out to sea. The German Captain had to make a turn to get out. By the time the _Adler_ reached the entrance to the harbor the _Adams_ was close behind. The Germans saw the real situation at once. There was great excitement on board both vessels, but the Germans would not compromise themselves by turning back.

As the two ships, which were about equally matched in size and in fighting strength, reached the open sea, Leary was in the rear only a few hundred yards. The German vessel took a wide turn, and headed for the point of attack. Day was breaking then. Leary made a short turn close to the coral reefs, and cut in between the German and the shore. His boat lapped the stern of the German vessel, only about three hundred yards away. Suddenly the orders to clear for action were heard throughout the American ship. All preparations had been made for this, and with despatch the decks were cleared, ammunition was brought up, and the guns were loaded. The Germans saw what was going on, and they cleared for action also. Then the two ships went down the coast, dipping to the swells, and stripped for war. It was a trying occasion, and both commanders knew what tremendous results were dependent upon the outcome of their actions that day. Steadily the ships held their course. When they approached the point where the forts were situated, the German ship slowed up and dropped anchor. Leary did the same. It was broad daylight now. Soon a boat was lowered from the German ship, and some German officials were sent ashore under a guard. Then it was that Leary ordered one of his boats cleared away to carry this note of warning to the Captain of the German ship, which Leary had written on the way down and after both ships had cleared for action:

"I have the honor to inform you that having received information
that American property in the Latogo vicinity of Laulii, Lotoanuu,
and Solo Solo is liable to be invaded this day, _I am here for the
purpose of protecting the same_, and I hope that the friendly
relations existing between our respective governments may prevent
the occasion from causing any complaint."

The American officer was rowed over to the German ship and gave the note to the officer of the deck, and returned without waiting for any reply. Then the crews of the two vessels stood by their guns for hours waiting for developments. Leary's note was polite and firm; but when such a note is sent from the commander of one war-ship to the commander of another war-ship, and when the decks of both ships are cleared for action, it can mean but one thing--war. Leary meant that no shot should go over his deck into the settlement on shore. For several hours the two ships lay at anchor, with the crews waiting to spring at each other. Soon after noon the Germans got under way again, and made a long detour down the coast, with the Americans close behind, and still ready for battle. Then slowly the German vessel turned about and steamed for Apia Harbor. Leary followed with his ship. Both came to anchor in the places from which they had started early in the day, and that incident, laden with frightful possibilities for two great nations, was ended.

Leary was ordered home soon afterward, and it is known that he received the personal thanks from our officials in the highest seats of government. The strangest part of the affair, however, is the fact that no official notice was ever taken of his splendid determination to uphold the honor of the American flag. Leary's friends say that he has not so much as a piece of paper to show from the Navy Department that he ever stood up for the honor of the flag in so signal a manner in Samoa. Congress passes votes of thanks to men who are conspicuous in saving life on the high seas. Congress never passed a vote of thanks to Leary. I need not go into the reasons for this apparent neglect. If republics are ungrateful, it may be said that Leary never asked for any such action, nor even desired it. He had performed his sworn duty, and that was sufficient for him. He was probably the youngest officer in the navy ever called upon to perform such a responsible task, and if there seemed to be envy on the part of those older and of higher rank in the service, "Dick" Leary went his way modestly, and asked for no public recognition of his services.

His native State, however, Maryland, could not let such a display of patriotism go unrewarded, and the Legislature voted him a handsome gold watch. It was presented to him in the presence of a brilliant company at the State Capitol. The national government kept silent officially, however, and that silence has never been broken.

Leary probably cares least of all for this apparent oversight. It has been given to few officers in the American navy to write,

"I AM HERE _for the purpose of protecting the same_." (American property.)

That is Leary's reward. It is enough for him to know that he did his duty, and that the people respect him for it. As Americans, we are proud of certain sentiments uttered by those who have worn our country's uniform in time of war. "Don't give up the ship!" still rings in the ears of all patriotic citizens. "If any man hauls down the flag, shoot him on the spot!" still inspires and thrills us. With these, and other sentiments like them, I wish to write Leary's declaration,

"I AM HERE _for the purpose of protecting the same_."

WOOD-CARVING.

BY J. HARRY ADAMS.

A knowledge of drawing and modelling will be very helpful to the young carver, as the outline of ornament can be readily drawn, while to carve objects from wood the art of modelling form is most desirable and essential to obtain a satisfactory result.

If the beginner possesses a knowledge of form acquired by drawing and modelling, then the art of wood-carving can be readily and quickly mastered; but even if these advantages should be lacking, it is possible that considerable progress can be made by those who will follow the instructions given on these pages.

The most important feature of carving is the ability to sharpen and maintain the little tools, and when this is mastered, more than half the difficulty has been overcome. Carving-tools can be purchased at most any large hardware store, and as there are a great many shapes and styles of edges to select from, a few suggestions will give a clear idea of necessary ones to begin with.

At the start a numerous assortment of tools will not be necessary, as the flat-work will meet with the best success at the hands of the beginner. Six or eight chisels will constitute a good set, and those shown in Fig. 3 will answer very well.

No. 1 is a plain flat chisel with a straight edge, commonly called a firmer. No. 2 is a flat one also, with an angle or oblique edge, and commonly called a skew firmer. Nos. 3 and 4 are flat and extra flat gouges, while No. 5 is an ordinary gouge with a half-circular sweep. No. 6 is a grounder, or bent back ground tool, and is very useful for reaching when a flat tool cannot. No. 7 is a "quick gouge," in the form of a U, and No. 8 is a V gouge, a very handy tool for cutting the veins in leaves and in "chip-carving."

A flannel or felt case should be made for the tools, so they may be kept nicely. The case can be made to roll up, and provided with pockets into which the tools are slipped.

The stones needed on which to sharpen the tools will be an ordinary flat oil-stone, and two Turkey or Arkansas slips six or eight inches long, having the shape of those shown in Fig. 2, A and B. C is the flat stone, and every boy who carries a good pocket-knife should be provided with one on which to sharpen the blades.

The other tools necessary to complete the kit will be several clamps similar to the one shown in Fig. 2; also a glue-pot, and a fret-saw like the one depicted in Fig. 2.

The boy who possesses a bracket or jig saw, however, will not need the fret-saw, as more and better work can be done with it than with the hand affair.

A carver's bench on which to work is of course the greatest necessity; but if it is not possible to get one, a good wooden-top kitchen table will answer very well.

The proper kind of a bench gives greater facility for working; it is more convenient and solid, and as the height is better than that of an ordinary table, the carver works under more pleasant conditions.

The boy who is handy with tools can make a good bench in a short time, and the design of one is shown in Fig. 5 that can easily be made from wood of the necessary kind that is free from knots and sappy places. The top should measure four feet long, two feet wide, and should be one inch and a half in thickness; it can be of yellow pine, ash, or oak, and the wood must be well seasoned. The framework must be well made, and the cross-pieces and braces securely mortised together, or firmly screwed to the uprights or legs, which can be of yellow pine or ash two inches square.

The top of the bench should be three feet and three inches high from the floor; and to one side of the bench a carpenter's vise may be attached, as shown in the figure.

The first essential to good clean cutting is that the tools shall be absolutely sharp and in a workmanlike condition. It is often the case that amateurs' tools are in such a state that no professional carver could produce satisfactory results, so that in every instance the condition of the tools governs the finished work.

The variety of carving-tools is so limited, that if the difficulties of sharpening a firmer and gouge are mastered, the task is practically ended.

If the tools should be unusually dull, they must first be ground on a grindstone. It should be remembered that carvers' tools are sharpened on both sides, and not only on one, like the carpenters' chisels. After grinding, the tools must be sharpened on the oil-stone or slips before they are ready for use. The firmers can be sharpened on the oil-stone laid flat on the bench, but the gouges must be held in the hand in order to sharpen the inside curve with a slip. The outer curve can be sharpened on the flat oil-stone.

Great care must be taken to give the tools a finished and smooth edge, and when they have reached the proper degree of sharpness it will be an easy matter to cut across the grain of white pine, leaving a furrow that is very smooth and almost polished.

In the use of the oil-stone and slips, neat's-foot oil or a good thin machine oil should be employed. Water must not be used, as it would spoil the stones and not produce the sharp edge on the tools.

The finest stones are the best for use, and although they take longer to produce the keen edge, the sharpest tools are made with them, and they will be found the most satisfactory in the end. Avoid grit and dust on the stones, and before using them they should be wiped off with an oiled rag.

For gouges of the various sweeps the slip shown in Fig. 2A will be necessary, but for the V gouges the triangular one, Fig. 2B, is the right one to use. The stone, Fig. 2C, can be used to sharpen the firmers.

The beginner must not consider any pains too great to make himself a thorough master of the tools, and to keep a perfect edge on all of them. It is necessary, when using them, to exercise care to prevent any unpleasant cut that would be the result of carelessness. Undivided attention and a little common-sense are necessary at all times.

The tools being in proper condition, the next step is to acquire a knowledge of the best methods of handling them so as to produce any desired result. It will require some time and practice to become thoroughly familiar with the manner in which tools are handled, and, if it is possible, it would be well to watch some carver at work. The chisels should always be held with one hand on the handle and two fingers of the other hand near the edge of the tool. This is to give sufficient pressure at the end to keep it down to the wood, while the hand on the handle gives the necessary push to make the tool cut.

Of the woods that are adapted to carve in there are a great many, but perhaps yellow pine, walnut, or mahogany will be found most desirable, as they are easily cut, and do not split as some of the softer and harder woods.

1. The Drawn Design. 2. The Preliminary Stage. 3. The Finished Carving.]

To begin with, it is best to work out a simple pattern that can be followed easily and without a great deal of dexterity in handling the tools. Get a piece of yellow pine one inch thick, eight inches wide, and sixteen long.

On a piece of smooth paper draw one-half of a pattern similar to the one shown in Fig. 4, and on a piece of tracing-paper copy the design. Over the face of the wood lay a sheet of transfer-paper with the black surface down, and on it the tracing-paper, and go over all the lines with a lead-pencil, bearing down on the point so that the lines will be transferred to the wood. Repeat it at the other end, so that as a result the piece of wood will have the pattern.

To one corner of the bench clamp the piece of wood with three or four of the clamps shown in Fig. 2. Do not place the clamp directly on the wood, but place between the jaw and the pine a piece of heavy card-board or another piece of thin wood, to prevent the clamp from bruising the surface of the yellow pine. With a small wooden mallet and a firmer chisel begin to cut down into the face of the wood on the lines until they have all been cut. Then with the gouges and grounding tool cut away the surface not a part of the pattern to a depth of an eighth of an inch or more, until a result is obtained similar to that shown in the second cut of Fig. 4.

The entire design and edge will now be in relief, but its surface will be flat and entirely void of any "feeling." With the flat, extra flat, and plain gouges begin to carve some life in the ornament. A little practice will soon enable you to observe which parts should be high, the others that should be low, and the surfaces that can be left neutral or between high and low relief.

This part of carving is termed "life," or "feeling," and it is this quality that lends the beauty to the finest wood-carvings. The work when completed should have the appearance of the third cut in Fig. 4, and if nicely done it should be a credit to any beginner. The effect of this panel can be had also by applied carving, which is a very simple and less tedious process.

The design is transferred to a thin piece of wood, and cut out with the fret or jig saw. The pieces are then glued in position on a thick piece of wood, and the feeling carved in a similar manner as described. The former method is called carving in the solid, while the latter is known as applied carving.

Such pieces of carving can be used as panels to small drawers, to cabinets, and to form the sides and covers of useful little boxes, etc. If these simple suggestions are carefully followed, the inventive boy should be able to design some very pretty patterns that can be carved nicely in any desirable wood that is not too hard.

When flat, or relief, carving has been mastered, it would be well to attempt something in figure or bold work, such as animals, fruit, or heads, on all sides of which some careful study and good work can be done. It will be some time, however, before the amateur can successfully accomplish good results, so that for some time the flat-work should be practised, and as improvement is noticed the ornament can be undercut to lend it a richness and boldness.

Chip-carving, or engraving, is a simple but effective manner of ornamenting flat surfaces, and some very pretty results can be obtained in a little while with the gouges and V tools, also the spade chisel and veiner. There is no grounding out in chip-carving, as the pattern is produced by chipping out the figure itself.

Fig. 1 is a simple pattern of a vine and leaves; the stem is engraved with the V chisel, and with a small firmer the leaves are cut. Two curved incisions will cut the leaf, and the angle through the centre describes the main vein. The chipping can be shallow or deep, as a matter of choice, but more effect can be had by cutting fairly deep.

To finish wood-work in most any color, it is possible to obtain stains at a paint or hardware store, and over the stained surface, when dry, several thin coats of hard oil or furniture varnish can be applied. The back and edges of a carved panel should always be painted to protect it from moisture and dampness, and in this manner warping and splitting are avoided. Some pieces of carving only need oiling with raw linseed oil, while others may be varnished. A favorite mode of darkening oak in France and England before it is varnished is to expose it to the fumes of ammonia, or to paint ammonia on with a brush until the desired antique shade is obtained; this, however, is not so satisfactory as the colors resulting from the use of prepared stains that can be purchased.

Although golf has been played for several years at Lawrenceville, it is only within the past year that the game has established itself on an equal footing of popularity with the other sports of the school. As soon as the students' interest in the game became apparent, however, the authorities, following their custom with regard to all departments of the school, engaged an instructor to take charge of those who desired to become proficient. They secured the services of Mr. James Swan, who was superintendent at the St. Andrew's Club last year and at the Shinnecock Club the year before. His first work on going to Lawrenceville was to select a site for the course and to lay out links.

As there are over two hundred acres in the school property, he was able to take up some thirty or forty acres directly north of the school buildings for this purpose, and when the course has been completely arranged, it will doubtless be one of the best short courses in the country. At present there have been only six holes laid out, although probably next year this number will be increased to nine. For the requirements of the players now, however, these links give just about the amount of ground that can be covered in the afternoon from the close of school exercises until the recreation hour ends.

At Lawrenceville every student is required to devote a certain time each day to out-door exercise, and each boy is allowed to choose the sport that suits him best. About one hundred have decided to play golf in preference to other required exercise, and already some of them have developed good form, notably Griggs, Drake, Childs, Hutchings, and Little. Doubtless one of the reasons for this favorable development is that the players are required to study the rules carefully, and each one follows the game under the supervision of the instructor, who allows no loose form or slouch play.

THE LAWRENCEVILLE GOLF LINKS.

The start of the course, as it is at present laid out, is made from the first tee over comparatively level ground for 175 yards, starting near the fence that divides the central school property from the land which lies north of it. The barbed-wire fence which crosses this links forms an undesirable obstacle, but it will be removed in the spring and replaced by a short bunker.

The second tee begins the next link in a northerly direction, in a parallel line with the country road, or the Old King's Highway. This road is the one which was traversed for several decades by the mail-stages from New York to Washington. The ground sinks some eight feet at a distance of 140 yards in this second link of 304 yards, ending with a running brook some nine feet wide. The ground from the brook to the second hole rises slightly.

From the third tee to the third hole, a distance of 282 yards, the ground falls and rises considerably, the brook in this link proving a difficult hazard, as the south side of the bank is several feet higher than the north side. The rise from the brook to the third hole is but a light one. From the fourth tee to the fourth hole, 187 yards, the drive is comparatively good, the brook proving an insignificant hazard to the good driver, but a troublesome one to the beginner who, "topping" the ball, finds that here, as perhaps at no other part in the course, a resort must be made to "dropping" the ball. Indeed to the novice the fourth hole is a trial to the temper.

To the right of the third hole stands a farm-house; the course leading to the fourth hole might be across the miniature pond indicated in the plot plan. The ground falls gradually to the brook from the fifth tee, 241 yards, and beyond the brook the ground rises abruptly some 15 feet. The last link, 326 yards long, is the longest in the course, and is one of the most trying. At present it leads over a low hay-stack, which will be removed shortly, and before the hole is reached a bunker must be encountered. The fields are traversed pretty completely in making the course, 1-1/4 miles in length, and the sixth hole brings the player almost home.

The course has been made several times by the instructor in 27 strokes, and a few of the better players among the boys in 36 strokes, Griggs in 29. The majority of the boys, however, content themselves with some number between 40 and 50. In the course of a few months some twenty or thirty of the boys will be singled out and given more specific instructions, so that the tournaments to be held in the spring may be well played.

The announcement which came to us from New Haven some few days since, that the Hillhouse High-School would not put a track-athletic team into the field this year, brings up the question again of uniting the various athletic associations of the State. The football association of the Connecticut schools is a different organization from the track-athletic association, although both are made up of about the same schools. The football association is financially prosperous--in fact it came out some $400 to the good this year after paying all expenses, and this money is now doubtless drawing interest in the savings-bank.

The track-athletic association, however, is not so great a success from a financial point of view, and is now in debt, or, if not, it has been until very recently. This state of affairs is probably due to the fact that the expenses of a track-athletic meeting are heavy, and there is only one meeting a year, to which the small admission-fees charged are not sufficient to defray all the expenses.

On the other hand, there is a great popular interest in football in Connecticut, and the money contributed by spectators at the principal championship games is very much in excess of the requirements of the association. Perhaps, too, so far as track athletics are concerned, there has been a little mismanagement. The spring games of 1895 were very successfully managed, and proved a financial success, but the association was in heavy debt previous to that date, and the profits of 1895 went to make good some of the deficiencies of previous occasions.

In 1896, however, the managers of the games were incompetent, and the meeting proved a financial failure. The games were not properly advertised in New Haven, where they were held, and on the day of the meeting there were more spectators present from Hartford than there were from the home city. Furthermore, the managers were extravagant in the purchase of prize cups, and when they came to figure up their accounts there was a deficit.

It is the belief among a number of the young men interested in track athletics in Connecticut that if the track-athletic meetings cannot be conducted at a profit, they ought certainly, by good management, to be conducted without loss. It has been suggested that instead of having a football association, a track-athletic association, a baseball association, and perhaps other athletic organizations, it would be the better plan to have a single association that would govern all interscholastic sports in the State. The managers of this association would be the managers of each sport as it came up with the season, and the treasurer of the association would be responsible for all the moneys received and disbursed.