Chapter III: BEN (5)

Dear Jack: My grandfather knew a gentleman who was a very intimate
friend of the author of "Home, Sweet Home"--John Howard Payne. Mr.
Payne told this gentleman, Mr. C., how he came to write the song.
He said that a play or operetta called "The Maid of Milan," that he
had adapted from the French, was about to be played in London. In
this play was a very pretty scene for which he had an air in his
mind. He had to conjure up some words to suit the tune, and so he
wrote the verses of "Home, Sweet Home." He also said that the very
next day after the song had been brought out at the theater it was
all over London. Everybody was singing it. Grandfather says that
Mr. Payne got really very tired of hearing about this song, and at
length said he supposed he would hereafter be known only as the
author of "Home, Sweet Home." Mr. Robert S. Chilton wrote this
beautiful verse about Mr. Payne's death:

Sure, when thy gentle spirit fled
To realms beyond the azure dome,
With arms outstretched God's angels said:
"Welcome to heaven's 'Home, Sweet Home!'"

I believe this verse was inscribed on Mr. Payne's tomb-stone in
Tunis, Africa; but I am not sure. Can any one tell me?--Yours
truly,

KATIE T.M.

BABY-BO.

How many toes has the tootsy foot?
One, two, three, four, five!
Shut them all up in the little red sock,
Snugger than bees in a hive.

How many fingers has little wee hand?
Four, and a little wee thumb!
Shut them up under the bed-clothes tight,
For fear Jack Frost should come.

How many eyes has the Baby Bo?
Two, so shining and bright!
Shut them up under the little white lids,
And kiss them a loving good-night.

ARTHUR AND HIS PONY.

About the middle of the summer, little Arthur, who lived in the country, went to see his grandmother, whose house was three or four miles away from Arthur's home. He staid there a week, and when he came home and had been welcomed by all the family, his father took him out on the front piazza and said to him:

"Now, Arthur, if you are not tired, how would you like to take a ride?"

"Oh! I'm not tired," said Arthur. "I'd like a ride ever so much. Will you take me?"

"No," said his father. "I meant for you to take a ride by yourself."

"But I can't drive," said little Arthur.

"I know that," his father said, with a smile, "but I think we can manage it. Here, Joseph!" he called out to the hired man, "hurry and bring Arthur's horse."

"Oh, papa!" cried Arthur, "I don't want my horse. I can't take a real ride on him. He's wooden, and I was tired of him long ago. I thought you meant for me to take a real ride," and the little fellow's eyes filled with tears.

"So I do, my son," said his father, "and here comes the horse on which you are to take it. Is that animal real enough for you, sir?"

Around the corner came Joseph, leading a plump little black pony, with a long tail and mane, and a saddle, and bridle, and stirrups.

Arthur was so astonished and delighted that at first he could not speak.

"Well, what do you think of him?" said his father.

"Is that my horse?" said Arthur.

"Yes, all your own."

Arthur did not go to look at his pony. He turned and ran into the house, screaming at the top of his voice:

"Mother! mother! I've got a pony! Come quick! I've got a pony--a real pony! Aunt Rachel! I've got a pony, Laura! Laura! come, I've got a pony!"

When he came out again, his father said: "Come now, get on and try your new horse. He has been waiting here long enough."

But Arthur was so excited and delighted, and wanted so much to run around his pony and look at him on all sides, and kept on telling his father how glad he was to get it, and how ever so much obliged he was to him for it, and what a good man he was, and what a lovely pony the pony was, that his father could hardly get him still enough to sit in the saddle.

However, he quieted down after a while, and his father put him on the pony's back, and shortened the stirrups so that they should be the right length for him, and put the reins in his hands. Now he was all ready for a ride, and Arthur wanted to gallop away.

"No, no!" said his father, "you cannot do that. You do not know how to ride yet. At first your pony must walk."

So Arthur's father took hold of the pony's bridle and led him along the carriage-way in front of the house, and as the little boy rode off, sitting up straight in the saddle, and holding proudly to the reins, his mother and his aunt and his sister Laura clapped their hands, and cheered him; and this made Arthur feel prouder than ever.

He had a good long ride, up and down, and up and down, and the next day his father took him out again, and taught him how to sit and how to guide his pony.

In a week or two Arthur could ride by himself, even when the pony was trotting gently; and before long he rode all over the grounds, trotting or cantering or walking, just as he pleased.

The pony was a very gentle, quiet creature, and Arthur's father felt quite willing to trust his little boy to ride about on him, provided he did not go far from home.

Only once was there any trouble on the pony's account. As Arthur was riding in a field, one afternoon, there came along a party of gentlemen, who were hunting a fox. When they galloped away, over the smooth grass, Arthur whipped up his pony, and went after them as fast as he could go.

He went on and on, trying to keep up with the hunters, but he was soon left behind, for his pony could not gallop half as fast as the large, strong horses of the hunters.

Then he turned to come back, but he got into the wrong field, and soon found that he did not know the way home.

Arthur began to be very much frightened, for the sun was setting, and he could see no one of whom he could ask his way home. He first turned his pony this way and then that way, but the little horse was now hungry and tired, and he would not turn as Arthur wanted him to.

Then the pony resolutely started off and trotted along, paying no attention to Arthur's pulls and tugs, and did not stop until he had trotted right up to the door of Arthur's home.

You see, he knew the way well enough. Horses and dogs seldom lose their way, unless they are very far from home.

Arthur's parents were frightened at their little boy's long absence, and he was not allowed to ride again for three days, for he had been told not to go out of the field in which he was when he saw the hunters.

Arthur rode that pony until he became quite a big boy, and his feet nearly touched the ground as he sat in the saddle. Then he gave the good little animal to a young cousin.

But he never liked any horse so much as this pony, which was his own, real horse, when he was such a little boy.

YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.

"TOO-LOO!"

The Blue Jay courted the Yellow Cuckoo;
'Neath its nest he would stay all day long,
Smoothing his feathers of silver and blue,
Telling his love in a song:
"Too-loo! too-loo!
Oh, fly with me,
My sweet Cuckoo,
Across the sea!"

The Cuckoo came gayly forth from her nest;
But just then an arrow flew by,
Piercing the bird's soft yellow breast,
Who died with a single sigh.
"Too-loo! too-loo!"
The Blue Jay said;
"What shall I do?
My love is dead!"

The Cuckoo lay cold and still on the ground--
Dead, past all help to save;
And by a Bird-defender was found,
Who dug her a little grave.
"Too-loo! too-loo!"
Was the sorrowful lay,
For the gentle Cuckoo
Sung by the Jay.

AMY R.

"MARY AND HER LAMB."

(_A Critique._)

"Mary had a little lamb."

In this poem each stanza, we may say each line, is unalloyed gold. Let us examine the first line.

"Mary." The name strikes us at once as belonging to one pure as the inside of an apple-bloom; and the rest of the poem assures us, that by making Mary's name an index to Mary's character, we have not been misled. A master's hand is visible from the first word.

"A little lamb." The poet does not take for granted, as one of less genius would, that because a lamb is mentioned the reader necessarily sees in his mind's eye one of the frolicsome, gentle, confiding creatures commonly accepted as an emblem of meekness. Not at all. The lamb is not only a lamb--it is a _little_ lamb. Thus never in the whole course of the poem can we by any oversight look upon Mary's treasure as a sheep; it retains its infantile sweetness and grace through the entire narration. The poet thus draws our attention to the youth of the animal, in order to palliate the little creature's after-guilt. This is done with such grace and delicacy, that it is scarcely perceptible.

The line, as a whole, shows a touch of high art seldom seen in so short a poem. The writer knows human nature--that, we see at a glance. Else, would he not have entered into a detailed account of Mary's parentage, her appearance, place of residence, or, at least, the manner in which she became possessed of the lamb. But no; all is left to the imagination. Mary may be as blonde as the "Fair one with golden locks," as dark as "Black Agnes." Each reader has a heroine after his own heart, and each is satisfied.

"Its fleece was white as snow."

No black sheep (or lamb) could we in any way imagine as a companion of Mary--gentle, affectionate, pure little Mary. All her associates must be pure as herself.

"And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go."

Does not this suit the character given to Mary by her name? We can image to ourselves the lost lamb, the mournful bleating for its mother, its hunger and cold. In the depth of its misery we see Mary's sweet face bending pityingly over it; she raises it, takes it home, it revives, and loves her; she loves it in return. Can we wonder that it follows in her footsteps wherever she goes? Those two lines tell more than many a volume; but they must be read feelingly, or all is lost.

Now follows a tale of wrong-doing and of subsequent punishment. This is, indeed, a master-stroke; for this climax we were not prepared.

"It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule."

Although the lamb follows its mistress everywhere, school is a tabooed place. Yet the little creature cannot live without Mary, who has departed fair and fresh as Overbury's "Happy Milkmaid." Long are the hours that must elapse ere Mary's return, and the lamb tires of the waiting. "It followed her to school one day." How innocent an act that seems!--how natural! Then we read the next line,--"Which was against the rule," and the lamb's action is turned from innocence to guilt. Mary's favorite, that we have seen heretofore in only a good light, violates deliberately a rule of the school which Mary attends. The short sight of the animal's spiritual eyes prevents it from knowing the extent of the disgrace to which it is to be subjected. At present the end justifies the means in its little heart, and it leaves its pleasant home to wander schoolward, and we are left to imagine its thoughts on the way.

A scene in the school-house bursts upon us, and

"It makes the children laugh and play
To see a lamb at school."

This is another instance in which we are shown the poet's knowledge of human nature. At anything less than the sight of a lamb the little scholars are too well trained to laugh. This has no precedent. They have been told how to behave should a dog enter the room, or should a ludicrous error in lessons occur; but when a lamb trots soberly in,--not gamboling now; conscience already whispers; remorse eats at the little creature's peace of mind,--it is not to be expected that order can be longer maintained, and the school, with the exception of Mary, runs riot. Mary is perhaps, meanwhile, reproaching her pet with a look "more in sorrow than in anger;" she is too gentle to scold, but that glance completely fills the lamb's cup of sorrow; it is yet to overrun, and the drop is soon poured in--the deep beneath "the lowest deep" is soon reached.

"For this the teacher turned him out."

It was his duty, reader; judge him not harshly.

"But still he lingered near."

This, at least, was not forbidden,--to wait for his little mistress.

"And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear."

How fraught with significance is that one word, "patiently!" All too eager before, that was the lamb's fault, "and grievously hath [he] answered it." He has turned over a new leaf, and wandering aimlessly about, now nibbling a cowslip, now rolling in the young grass to still the remorse gnawing at his heart, we can imagine him resolving to be a better lamb in the future,--to grow more worthy Mary's love.

"'What makes the lamb love Mary so?'
The eager children cry."

All have noticed this devotion--all wonder at it. The teacher answers in words that prove how well we read Mary's affectionate nature:

"'Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know,'
The teacher did reply."

What could be a more worthy ending to so fine a poem than that the loves of the two, human and brute, should be recognized by all Mary's little world, her school-mates and her teacher. More poems like this, sentiments so pure clad in plain Saxon words, would make our world--wonderful and beautiful, as it now is--a fitter place of dwelling for "men and the children of men." We regret but one point about this gem,--that its author is "A Great Unknown."

C. McK.

THE DEATH OF PRINCE WILLIAM.

There was a prince named William,
And he had a sister, too;
He was sailing o'er the English Channel,
Over the Channel so blue.

His father had gone ahead;
And he made the boat go fast,
But soon it struck upon a rock;
There was a shock to the very mast!

And everybody did wail,
And everybody did cry,
Because everybody thought
That everybody must die!

Prince William rushed into a boat,--
Several lords and he,--
And he was steering for the land,
Across the dark blue sea.

In the midst of the general weeping,
He heard his sister's cry,
And he made the boat go back,
For he would not let her die!

When he got near the ship,
When he was touching her side,
Down the side of the big ship
Everybody did glide.

Down went the little boat,
Too frail for such a load;
Down went the people in it,
And the people that rowed.

Down went the big ship,
Her topmast in the air,
And, if a person were near enough,
He might see a man clinging there.

The name of this man was Berold,
And he was a butcher by trade,
And by the help of a buff garment
On the top of the water he stayed.

In the morning some fishermen came
And delivered him from the mast;
And after he was recovered,
His tale he told at last.

When the king heard of the death of his children,
He fainted away for a while,
And from that day he was never,
Never was seen to smile!

H.W.

ALLIE'S SUNSHINE.

"A snowy, windy day. Oh, how dismal!" sighed Allie. "I wish it would clear off, so that I could go out-doors and play."

With this, Allie, who had been standing by the window gazing out at the gray sky, sat down and commenced to read that beautiful book, "May Stanhope." After reading quietly for more than an hour, she laid down the book, exclaiming: "I _can_ and will try to be of some use in the world. I do nothing but mope when it rains, or when anything goes wrong. I will try to help others who need my help. I will ask mamma if I can carry something to Miss Davies. I am sure she needs some help."

"Oh, the sun is shining!" Allie jumped up, and ran out of the room to ask her mother if she would let her go to Miss Davies's. While she is gone I will tell you briefly who she is. Her name is Allie Harris, and she is a bright little girl, only apt to be dull on dark days.

Her mother gave the desired permission, and after wrapping herself up warmly, she took the well-filled basket that her mother had prepared, and set out on her errand of mercy. She soon reached Miss Davies's tiny cottage. She knocked, and a cheery voice bade her enter. She walked into a neat room, barely but cleanly furnished. At one end of it, beside a window, around which an ivy was growing, sat a bright-faced little woman sewing. She looked up and greeted Allie pleasantly. Allie shyly made known her errand, and stayed with Miss Davies all the afternoon, singing and reading aloud while Miss Davies sewed.

When it began to grow dark she bade Miss Davies a cheerful good-by, and went merrily home. She said to her mother, "I have learned the _true_ secret of happiness at last." By doing _good_ to others you will forget your _own_ unhappiness, and be made happy in return; while, if you _mope_ and try to be disagreeable, you will be miserable.

F.H.

THE LETTER BOX

Our beautiful new cover was designed and drawn by Walter Crane, of London, who made all those lovely pictures in "The Baby's Opera." Our readers will remember what we said of him last month, and that, though a great artist in other ways also, he has done his best and most famous work in drawing for the little folks. It would have been impossible, therefore, to find a hand more skillful in the kind of art desired, or better fitted to put upon the cover of ST. NICHOLAS just the things to suit the best tastes and fancies; and of Mr. Crane's success we think that no one who really studies the new cover can have a doubt. It seems to us fully worthy both of the artist and the magazine; and, believing that our young readers will all agree with us, we leave them the delight of discovering and enjoying for themselves its special beauties.

* * * * *

There is a beautiful custom in England--which is to be hoped will yet become general in America--of sending around Christmas cards, dainty things with lovely pictures and hearty verses upon them. Friends and lovers send them to one another, children send them to their parents, parents to their children, and the postman, as he flies from house to house, fairly glows with loving messages.

And now ST. NICHOLAS presents to one and all the sweet little card on page 91, which was drawn by Miss L. Greenaway, a London artist, who has drawn many beautiful pictures of child-life. A companion card will be given next month.

* * * * *

We are sure all our readers will appreciate the very comical pictures on pages 144 and 145, which illustrate the funny story of "The Magician and His Bee." But some of our older boys and girls may be able to put them to another use,--which, also, would cause much fun and merriment,--for these pictures would form an admirable series of magic-lantern slides. And all that is needed to make them is a little skill with the brush and--patience.

Take an _outline_ tracing of each figure; arrange all the tracings for each slide on the glass strip, according to their positions in the picture; then, by a slight touch of mucilage, or by holding each one with the forefinger, secure them in their places until the outlines can be traced on the glass. Fill up all the space outside the tracings with black paint, and, this done, put in the shadings of the figures (lines of features, costumes, etc.) with touches of the brush, according to the lines in the printed pictures, until the reproductions upon the slide are true and complete.

Once done, the pictures, enlarged and thrown upon a screen, would be very funny indeed; and if, when they are exhibited, some one will read the story aloud, so as to describe the slides as they succeed each other, you may count upon having a jolly time.

* * * * *

Kiukiang, China, August 18, 1877.

Dear St. Nicholas: I am not so far out of the world but that I can
receive and read your excellent magazine. I look forward to mail
day with much pleasure, especially the mail which brings the ST.
NICHOLAS. I read every number through. I enjoy reading the letters
from the little boys and girls, I suppose, because I am a little
boy myself. There are no American boys here except my three little
brothers. We would like to have a play with some of the boys who
write for your magazine. The little boys of China have no such
magazine as yours. I wish they had; it would make better boys of
them. The children of the better class of Chinese go to school.
There they learn to commit to memory the Chinese characters. In
repeating the characters, they sway back and forth; it's real
comical to see them. They repeat in a sing-song tone. They go to
school at six in the morning. They have a rest at noon, after which
they remain in the evening until eight o'clock. They have no idea
of what we have in America; they are even stupid enough to ask if
we have a sun and moon, and all such questions. My home is on the
banks of the great river Yang-tse; nine miles back from the river
are the Lu-Say Mountains, five thousand feet high. The foreign
people find it very cool up in the mountains. There are several
large pools of water where they bathe. I have written more than I
expected to.

--Good-by, dear ST. NICHOLAS, from your reader,

EVANSTON HART.

* * * * *

Readers who were interested in Professor Proctor's letter about the Sea-Serpent in ST. NICHOLAS for August last, may like to read also these little extracts on the same subject:

_From the New York "Independent."_

A sea-monster was seen by the officers of H.M.S. "Osborne," on June 2, off the coast of Sicily, which is sketched by Lieut. Haynes and figured in the London _Graphic_. The first sketch is merely of a long row of fins just appearing above the water, of irregular height, and extending, says Lieutenant Osborne, from thirty to forty feet in length. The other sketch is of the creature as seen "end on," and shows only the head, which was "bullet-shaped and quite six feet thick," and a couple of flappers, one on each side. The creature was, says Lieutenant Osborne, at least fifteen or twenty feet wide across the back, and "from the top of the head to the part of the back where it became immersed I should consider about fifty feet, and that seemed about a third of its whole length." Thus it is certainly much longer than any fish hitherto known to the zooelogists, and is, at least, as remarkable a creature as most of the old wonder-makers ever alleged.

_From the "National Teachers' Monthly," September_.

Mr. John Kieller Webster says he has seen the sea-serpent in the Straits of Malacca. Its body was fifty feet in length, the head twelve feet, and the tail one hundred and fifty. It seemed to be a huge salamander. The Chinese on board the ship were so frightened, they set up a howl,--a circumstance very remarkable.

* * * * *

THE GAME OF FAGOT-GATHERING.

There is a jolly in-door game, for the winter, called "Fagot-Gathering," which has been described in print before, but it makes so much fun that many who have never heard of it will be glad if we tell about it here.

First you take some slips of paper,--as many as there are players,--and on one of them you write "Fagot-Gatherer;" on each of the rest you write either "good wood" or "snapper," making three times as many "good woods" as "snappers." Of course, anybody who knows about wood-fires will see that this is because some sticks will burn quietly and brightly while others will crack and snap and fly without the least warning. You put the papers into a hat, and each player takes one, telling nobody what is written on it. Every one then sits as near to the wall as possible, leaving a clear space in the middle of the room, and the player who has chosen the "Fagot-Gatherer" slip proceeds in a serious, business-like way to bundle the fagots. He, or she, chooses four or five girls and boys, standing them together to represent a fagot, and then makes similar groups of the rest in other parts of the room. This done, he begins to "bind the fagots" by walking slowly around each group, making with his arms such motions as a real fagot-binder would make. The "sticks" are quiet until the binder lets his arms fall, but then comes a sudden change; the "good woods" run to their seats, but the "snappers" chase the "binder" and try to touch him before he can begin to bind another "fagot;" failing in this, they have to go and mourn among the "good woods." Then the binding of the second "fagot" goes on, like that of the first. But when a "fagot-gatherer" is touched, the "snapper" takes the place of the "gatherer," who goes and rests himself. The game ends when all the "fagots" have been used up in this way, and is then begun again by another selection of papers from the hat. The fun is in the frights and surprises of the "fagot-gatherer," who, of course, does not know who is a "good wood" and who a "snapper;" and all do their best to avoid betraying themselves. If you have a good big room and lots of players you will find this game as full of fun as you can wish.

* * * * *

Philadelphia, September 16, 1877.

Dear ST. NICHOLAS: I was looking over your September number, and
happened to read a letter addressed to the "Little Schoolma'am,"
and signed "Father of two school-girls;" it was about school
lunches, and told of a visit to the new Normal school of
Philadelphia; he said that in the lunch hall there is a long table
on which there was nothing but cakes of all sorts. Now, being a
member of the school, I was a little hurt at the injustice done to
our school. I know there is something else but cake,--fruit, milk,
soup, sandwiches, etc., being among the other things that are
spread on the lunch-table, provided by the janitor, and sold to the
girls at very low rates. So you see I had reason to be a little
indignant at the discredit done to our school, and set about
repairing it as far as possible; and you, too, can help repair the
harm done to this fine public school by kindly printing this note.
But I must close, for my letter is getting too long.

--Your true friend,

A MEMBER OF THE MODEL CLASSES PRIMARY DEPARTMENT. (Aged eleven
years.)

* * * * *

SCIENCE AT HOME.

Brooklyn.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am an old boy, but not too old to be one of
your most delighted readers; and I am glad of the present chance to
send you my good wishes, and say my say. Here it is:

Be sure and tell your youngsters to bear in mind that opportunities
for home study on their own accounts are multiplying around them
day by day, and that in taking advantage of them they will not only
find great enjoyment and add to their stock of knowledge, but also
will come upon hundreds of ways in which to amuse their friends,
both old and young.

Here, for instance, come Professor Mayer, and your frequent
contributor, Mr. Charles Barnard, with a little book about "Light."
They are not content with merely telling the dry facts about their
subject, but, with pictures and plain speech, they explain how
almost any boy or girl may, at small cost, make his or her own
apparatus, and with it verify by actual trial what the book says.
Some of the experiments are positively beautiful, and the hardest
is not _very_ difficult.

Then, too, Professor Tyndall has written out his lectures to young
people, given before the Royal Institution at London during
1875-76, in a little work called "Lessons in Electricity,"--most
interesting and beautiful of scientific studies,--in which he tells
how to make the instruments and conduct the experiments yourself.
And, as if that were not enough, Mr. Curt W. Meyer, of the Bible
House, New York, has arranged to supply a complete set of
instruments, to suit this book of Professor Tyndall's, at a total
cost of $55, packing-case and all; the various articles being
obtainable separately at proportionate prices.

I only wish we had had such chances fifty years ago; for, if our
older friends had not made presents of such things to us,--as no
doubt many oldsters will to your young folks this coming
Christmas,--we'd have saved up our pocket money and gone ahead
alone. I know that I made all my own electrical apparatus; but
there was good fun in doing it, and it worked well, and made
splendid times for our circle of young folks on cozy winter
evenings.

I hope you will read this letter through, although it is as long as
most old men's memories.--Yours still affectionately,

GRAN'THER HORTON.

* * * * *

Jamaica, L.I.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read Jack-in-the-Pulpit's inquiry in the
August number about the "Fiery Tears of St. Lawrence." Yesterday I
was reading a book, and in it there was an article headed "Showers
of Stars." I read it, and at the end of it was a piece which seemed
to be an answer to Jack's question. I copied word for word from the
book. Here it is:

"Another writer suggests the theory that a stream or group of
innumerable bodies, comparatively small, but of various dimensions,
is sweeping around the solar focus in an orbit, which periodically
cuts the orbit of the earth, thus explaining the actual cause of
shooting stars, aerolites, and meteoric showers."

This is all I have been able to find out, and I hope it is
correct.--Believe me to be yours very truly,

C.A.R.

C.A.R., and others who wish to know more of this subject, will find all the latest information in "Appleton's Cyclopaedia," under the items "Aerolite" and "Meteor," where admirably clear and condensed accounts are given of all that is known about these bodies. C.A.R.'s extract states the theory most generally held.

* * * * *

TABLEAUX FROM ST. NICHOLAS PICTURES.

Brooklyn, November, 1877.

DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: My little sisters and my brother love you,
and so do I, for your monthly visits make our house brighter and
pleasanter to us all. I am fifteen, not yet too old to be one of
your children, you see.

What I want to tell you is how easily some of your pictures can be
turned into _tableaux-vivants,_ or even acted. There was
"Pattikin's House;" I am sure we had the greatest fun with those
pictures, we being so many girls: and "The man all tattered and
torn that married the maiden all forlorn;" that was on p. 652 of
the volume for 1876: "The Minuet," in January, 1877: "Hagar in the
Desert," in June, 1877; my aunty did that, and it was lovely: the
little girl in "The Owl That Stared," in November, 1876; and
"Leap-Year," in the same number. All these we had at our own home,
but there are lots of others that might suit some folks better than
they would suit us.

This winter some of your pictures will be used in a series of grand
tableaux for our Sunday-school entertainments. A number of people
belonging to the school can paint scenes, get up costumes, and all
that. It is going to be splendid.

I thought that your other children, you dear old ST. NICHOLAS,
would surely like to know about this, and I hope I have not made my
letter too long. From yours lovingly,

MINA B.H.

* * * * *

MARY C. WARREN answered correctly all the puzzles in the October "Riddle-Box," but her answers came too late for acknowledgment in the November number.

* * * * *

Black Oak Ridge, Passaic County, N.J.

MRS. EDITOR: Excuse me writing to you, but I want to ask you if you
think it is right to be killing cats all the time, for my brother
Eddie has killed fifteen this year, and whenever I scold him about
it, he begins to sing pilly willy winkum bang dow diddle ee ing
ding poo poo fordy, pilly willy winkum bang. There, there he stands
now behind the barn with his hands full of lumps of coal watching
for one that killed his chicken a month ago. O dear, if he would
only stop killing cats what a good boy he would be! He always gives
me half of his candy, and he raises such nice melons in his garden.
O, O, as true as I live there he goes now after the poor cat. Good,
good, good--neither piece of coal hit her. What can I do to stop
his bad habit. I think it is too bad even if they do kill his
chicks once in a while. I have only got two cats left, Dick and
Mizy, and he watches them awful close.--Your friend,

KATIE BAKER.

* * * * *

New York.

DEAR ST NICHOLAS: I want to send this story to The letter box that
I wrote when I was 6 years old this is it

LITTLE MAY

Once upon a time there lived a little girl whose father and mother
were very rich, so the little girl had lovely dresses, but she had
a very bad temper and was very proud so nobody loved her. One day
this little girl I might as well tell you her name it was May was
sitting in her mothers lap Mama said she what makes everybody act
so to me? Dear said her mother it is because you are so proud and
get angry so easily then said May if I should try to be good would
they like me Yes said her mother so after that May was a better
child and every body liked her even her mother loved her better
than before and so did her father and after that the little girl
was no more saying Oh dear nobody loves me but lived happy and
contented.

ELISE L. LATHROP.

* * * * *

Geneva, N.Y.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I notice in a chapter of "His Own Master" for
September a mistake which I can correct. In describing the
Cincinnati suspension bridge, it says that trains go across on it.
This is a mistake, as that bridge is only used for carriages,
horse-cars and pedestrians, the steam-cars going across on another
bridge above. There is now building a new railroad bridge below for
the new Southern Railroad.--Yours respectfully,

W.S.N.

* * * * *

San Leandro, Cal., Sept. 3, 1877.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I tried the Little Schoolma'am's way of pressing
flowers, and I think it is ever so nice. I pressed a wall-flower;
it retained all its brightness and looked just like a fresh flower.
Last spring we discovered a humming-bird's nest in one of the trees
in our orchard. It was very pretty, being no larger than half of a
hen's egg. The first time I saw it the little mother was on it; she
sat as still as a stone, and looked as if she would not budge an
inch for me or anybody else. I am always very glad when the ST.
NICHOLAS comes.--Your affectionate little reader,

SUSIE R. IRWIN.

* * * * *

Princeton, N.J.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I would like to tell you of the interesting
expedition I made last August to the college observatory here for
the purpose of seeing the three planets, Jupiter, Mars and Saturn.
Through the telescope we were shown Mars burning with a ruddy glow,
and having on the rim of one side a bright white spot, which the
professor told us was the ice piled up around the north pole;
Saturn with its rings, seen with wonderful clearness, and shining
pale and far off in comparison with Mars; Jupiter with its two dark
bands around the center, and three of its satellites plainly
visible; and, last, the moon with its curiously indented surface
and ragged edge. The telescope was small, so we could not, of
course, see the newly discovered satellites of Mars, the professor
saying that there were only two instruments in this country that
would show them. Hoping that you may have as good an opportunity to
see these splendid heavenly bodies as I have had, I remain, your
friend,

B.H.S.

NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS.

BABY DAYS, a selection of Songs, Stories and Pictures for Very Little Folks, with an introduction by the Editor of ST. NICHOLAS, and 300 illustrations. Scribner & Co.--This large and very handsome book has been made up from ST. NICHOLAS, and nearly all from the pages devoted to the "Very Little Folks," and although the readers of this magazine know that there have been many good things in that department, they can have no idea, until they see it gathered together in this book, what a wealth of pictures, stories, funny little poems and jingles have been offered the little ones in ST. NICHOLAS. To children who have never read ST. NICHOLAS, this book, with its three hundred pictures,--to say nothing of its other contents,--will be a revelation; to children who take the magazine, it will bring up many pleasant recollections of good things they have enjoyed.

ABOUT OLD STORY-TELLERS--of How and When they Lived, and what Stories they Told. By Donald G. Mitchell. Published by Scribner, Armstrong & Co.--When any one comes late to dinner nothing can be kinder than to bring back for him some of the good things which may have been removed before his arrival,--and something very like this has here been done by Mr. Mitchell for the boys and girls who came into this world too late to hear in their original freshness all the good stories that were the delight of their fathers and mothers when they were children. And these fine old stories are all so nicely warmed up (if we may so express it) by the author of the book, and so daintily and attractively presented to our boys and girls, that some older folks may be in doubt whether or not they would have lost anything in this respect if they, too, had happened to come a little late to the feast furnished by Defoe, Dean Swift, Miss Edgeworth, Oliver Goldsmith, the man who wrote the "Arabian Nights," and other good old story-tellers.

Our little housekeepers, especially those who have put into practice Marion Harland's admirable recipes which we gave in our third and fourth volumes, will be delighted with a little book published by Jansen, McClurg & Co., of Chicago. It is called SIX LITTLE COOKS; or, Aunt Jane's Cooking-Class,--and, while it is really an interesting narrative in itself, it delightfully teaches girls just how to follow practically its many recipes. The only fault we have to find with it is the great preponderance of cakes and pastry and sweets over healthful dishes and the more solid kinds of cookery.

A very pleasant little book is THE WINGS OF COURAGE, adapted from the French for American boys and girls by Marie E. Field, and published by the Putnams. The three stories which make up the book will delight fairy-loving boys and girls. They are illustrated by Mrs. Lucy G. Morse, the author of "The Ash-Girl," well known to ST. NICHOLAS readers. The pictures all are pretty, but to our mind the best of all is "Margot and Neva," illustrating "Queen Coax."

BETTY AND HER COUSIN HARRY. By Miss Sarah E. Chester. American Tract Society, N.Y. Price, $1; postage, 7 cents.--This book tells in a bright and lively way about the pranks of a merry little girl and her boy-cousin. There is plenty of good fun and goodwill throughout, especially in the parts that tell of the doings of the two young madcaps on April Fools' Day and the Fourth of July, and of the queer way in which Toby, the pet crow, becomes peace-maker between them.

THE BODLEYS TELLING STORIES. Hurd & Houghton.--None of our young friends who have read "The Doings of the Bodley Family" will need to be told that this new volume is filled with stories bright, interesting, and helpful; and the Bodley folks have already gained so many friends and admirers that the book will be sure to make its way. We said of the former volume that it was charming, but the new one is even more exquisitely printed, and has a cover even more quaint and beautiful. So we cordially commend it to our young friends as a book which will both satisfy their interest and benefit their tastes.

THE CHRISTMAS STORY-TELLER, published by Scribner, Welford & Armstrong, is a well-illustrated collection of excellent Christmas stories by English writers. It is meant for papas and mammas rather than little folks, but some of our older boys and girls may enjoy the Christmas tales by such authors as Mark Lemon, Edmund Yates, Tom Hood, Shirley Brooks, and that very funny man, F.C. Burnand.

THE RIDDLE-BOX

A CHESS PUZZLE.

Our readers will here find a "knight's move" problem, similar to the one published in the "Riddle-Box" of ST. NICHOLAS for February, 1874. By beginning at the right word and going from square to square as a knight moves, you will find an eight-line quotation from an old poet. The verse is quoted in one of "Elia's Essays." M.

+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | And | you, | ding | close | your | bond- | me | cir- | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | gad- | me | oh | age | chain | your | I | en | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | O | vines; | Do |through | so | silk- | cles | too, | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | nail | ye | lest | bles, | break, | Ere | me | That | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | your | bram- | ars, | in | Bind | knee, | And, | weak, | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | bout, | But, | me | ver | prove | bines, | I | ye | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | Curl | fet- | this | bri- | your | ne- | too | cour- | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | | | | | | | | | place; | a- |twines; | ters | leave | teous | wood- | may | | | | | | | | | | +--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+

EASY NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

The whole, composed of six letters, is a New England city. The 1 is a numeral. The 1 2 is a word signifying "Behold!" The 1 2 3 is cheap. The 2 3 4 is to be indebted. The 3 4 is a pronoun. The 3 4 5 6 is a cistern. The 4 5 6 is a measure.

C.D.

A PLEA FOR SANTA CLAUS.

By taking one letter from each line of this verse, you will find an acrostic which spells a holiday greeting. The letters, too, are in a straight line with one another--but what letters shall be taken?

Coming with merry feet to young and old,
Where snow and ice would block his onward way;
Strive they in vain his eager step to stay,
For Santa Claus is curious as bold.
Why should he _not_ know what the ovens hold?
Such odors tempt him, and he must obey!
School-boys and matrons, grandsires, maidens gay,
Forgive him if he warm his fingers cold
While waiting: Arrows from his mystic pack--
Wise fellow! see him choose! "_These_ (from _my_ bows),
With shaft of silver, tipped with jewel rare,
Aimed with the skill which Love can well impart,
Shall strike the center of the coyest heart!
Lest Santa Claus be slighted, then, beware!"

B.

BROKEN WORDS.

In each sentence, fill the first two blanks with two words which, joined together, will form a word to fill the remaining blank.

1. "Do you buy paper ---- ---- or reams?" ---- one school-girl of another. 2. ---- ---- Puritans do not regard it as you free ---- men might. 3. He built ---- ---- when in ----, and lived like the natives themselves.

B.

PICTORIAL QUADRUPLE-ACROSTIC.

The initials and finals of the words represented by the small pictures name two objects to be seen in the central picture. Two other words relating to the central picture may also be found in succession, by taking one letter from each of the words represented by the small pictures.

L.J.

CHRISTMAS ENIGMA.

The answer is a proverb relating to Christmas. Forty-four letters. My 2 30 9 8 24 38 15 22 32 27, and also 25 20 11 38 31 25, and 6 13 17 35 25 9 18 29 2 are used in Christmas decorations. 36 1 26 42 9 16 are rung, 44 41 7 38 39 31 16 are told, 24 4 6 2 12 are played, 10 11 33 26 21 2 5 12 is laid aside, 19 9 43 38 35 37 16 are brightened by yule logs, 34 23 14 11 20 25 salutations are exchanged, 28 22 4 8 35 44 gladdened, and 3 7 11 38 27 winged, all at the good old Christmas-time.

B.

AUTHORS' NAMES.

The answers will give respectively the names of sixteen authors.

1. A cat's cry and a Scotch lake. 2. The value of the rim 3. A rough or clumsy cut between a sunbeam and the old ladies' beverage. 4. A man's name and an island. 5. A teacher commanding one of his male scholars to perform his task. 6. A bun and a hotel. 7. A light, and a "k," and a measure of length. 8. Strong and well.

9. Two-thirds of an eye; a Scotch title prefixed;
With a shoe-maker's tool nicely put in betwixt:
If you look at it closely, I think you will find
An essayist, poet, historian, combined.

10. Conqueror, embrace O. 11. Indispensable to printers, and a little bed. 12. A bit, and a horse's cry. 13. A small nail and a Spanish title. 14. A boy's nickname and an humble dwelling. 15. The patriarch Jacob between "D" and myself.

16. If two pretty girl-names together you tie
(Some E's you must lose, for "I can't tell a lie"),
The name of two poets at once you'll descry.

M.M.

A RIMLESS WHEEL.

The wheel is made of four words of seven letters each, with a common central letter. The first word is written vertically, the second horizontally, the third diagonally from left to right, and the fourth diagonally from right to left. The half of each word, from the outside to the central letter (but not including that letter), forms a smaller word. The whole line of dots from 1_a_ to 1_b_ including the central letter, indicates the first of the four principal words, while 1_a_ indicates the first of the small words belonging to it, and 1_b_ indicates its second small word. This numbering and lettering applies also to the other words. The central letter is given, and all the words are defined below.

1a

3a. . .4a

. . .

. . .

2a . . . A . . . 2b

. . .

. . .

4b. . .3b

1b

1. A wall of defense. 2. A brilliant bird of South America. 3. An enthusiast. 4. The noise of a drum.

1_a_. Equal value. 1_b_. A fondling. 2_a_. The human race. 2_b_. A relative. 3_a_. An article of summer use. 3_b_. Involuntary muscular motion. 4_a_. To chafe. 4_b_. To entitle.

B.

MAGIC DOMINO-SQUARE.

Eight dominoes placed together form a square composed of sixteen half-dominoes, as shown in the diagram below. But, in the diagram, each row of four half-dominoes contains a different number of spots from any of the other rows. Thus the topmost row, counting horizontally, contains eighteen spots; the one below it only four; the first row to the left, counting vertically, ten; the diagonal row, downward from left to right, eight, etc. It is required to make a square of eight dominoes of the same set, in which each vertical, horizontal, and diagonal row of half dominoes shall contain exactly sixteen spots. Who can do it?

M.D.

+-------+-------+-------+-------+
| * | * * * | * | * * |
| * | | * | * * |
| * | * * * | * | * * |
+-------+-------+-------+-------+
| | | * | |
| * | | | * |
| | | * | |
+-------+-------+-------+-------+
| * | * | * * | * |
| | | | * |
| * | * | * * | * |
+-------+-------+-------+-------+
| * * | * * | * | |
| | * | | * |
| * * | * * | * | |
+-------+-------+-------+-------+

DIAGONAL PUZZLE.

The puzzle contains ten words of ten letters each. Fill the blanks with words suited to the sense, and arrange these one above another in the order in which they occur in the sentences. They will then form a square, and the diagonal letters, read downward from left to right, will name a friend we all like.

---- (the same person as the diagonal, with another name) boys, and the children may well put ---- in a friend who can ---- so much to their happiness. No ordinary person is ---- to him; and the legend ---- us to the belief that he is well-nigh ---- that tells of the ---- exercise of his power in a ---- ---- manner, and on account of which he deserves to be called the "----" patron.

B.

PROVERB PUZZLE.

Supply the blanks with words to complete the sense, and transpose them into an appropriate proverb, with no letter repeated.

When Santa Claus, laughing at Christmas cold,
Leaps gayly out from his ---- of gold,
No clattering ---- disturb the house,
But down the ---- as still as a ----
He glides to lighten his burdened back,
By tossing treasures from out his pack;
Then up and off, with no ---- behind
But the "Merry Christmas" you all shall find.

SEXTUPLE ACROSTIC.

Initials, read downward, a man; read upward, a biblical locality. Centrals, read downward, a portion; read upward, a snare. Finals, read downward, something seen at night; read upward, small animals.

1. Stupid persons. 2. Toward the stern of a ship. 3. An insect in a caterpillar state. 4. To come in.

N.T.M.

EASY DIAMOND PUZZLE.

In work, but not in play; a domestic animal; a singing bird; a light carriage; in night, but not in day.

ISOLA.

NUMERICAL ENIGMAS.

1. She is such a sweet, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 child, I feel sure that I can soon 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 of her love.

2. "Will you 1 2 3 4 5 6 row?" said the 1 2 3 4 5 6.

3. If you do 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 about the stem of, the vase, choose the delicate 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11.