CHAPTER VI.

Jack and Neal entered into partnership in the poultry business.

"You see, I sha'n't have a cent of my own until I am twenty-five," explained Neal, "and my old grandmother left most of the cash to Hessie. She had some crazy old-fashioned notions about men being able to work for their living, but women couldn't. It's all a mistake. Nowadays women can work just as well as men, if not better. Besides, they marry, and their husbands ought to support them. Now, what am I going to do when I marry?"

Cynthia, who was present at this discussion, gave a little laugh. "Are you thinking of taking this important step very soon? Perhaps you will have time to earn a little first. Chickens may help you. Or you might choose a wife who will work--you say women do it better than men--and she will be pleased to support you, I have no doubt."

They were on the river, tied up under an overhanging tree. Cynthia, who had been paddling, sat in the stern of the canoe; the boys were stretched in the bottom. It was a warm, lazy-feeling day for all but Cynthia. The boys had been taking their ease and allowing her to do the work, which she was always quite willing to do.

"I'll tell you how it is," continued Neal, ignoring Cynthia's sarcasm. "I'll have a tidy little sum when I am twenty-five, and until then Hessie is to make me an allowance and pay my school and college expenses. She's pretty good about it--about giving me extras now and then, I mean--but you sort of hate to be always nagging at a girl for money. It was a rum way of doing the thing, anyhow, making me dependent on her. I wish my grandmother hadn't been such a hoot-owl."

Cynthia looked at him reprovingly. "You are terribly disrespectful," she said, "and I think you needn't make such a fuss. You're pretty lucky to have such a sister as mamma."

"Oh, Hessie might be worse, I don't deny. It's immense to hear you great girls call her 'mamma,' though. I never thought to see Hessie marry a widower with a lot of children. What was she thinking of, anyway?"

"Well, you are polite! She was probably thinking what a very nice man my father is," returned Cynthia, loftily.

"He is a pretty good fellow. So far I haven't found him a bad sort of brother-in-law. I don't know how it will be when I put in my demand for a bigger allowance in the fall. I have an idea he could be pretty stiff on those occasions. But that's why I want to go into the poultry business."

"And I don't mind having you," said Jack. "Sharing the profits is sharing the expense, and so far I've seen more expense than profit. However, when they begin to lay and we send the eggs to market, then the money will pour in. I say we don't do anything but sell eggs. It would be an awful bore to get broilers ready for market. By-the-way, I think we had better go back now and finish up that brooder we were making."

"Oh, no hurry," said Neal. "It won't take three minutes to do that, and it's jolly out here. It's the coolest place I've been in to-day. Let's talk some more about the poultry business. We'll call ourselves 'Franklin & Gordon, Oakleigh Poultry Farm.' That will look dandy on the bill-heads. And we'll make a specialty of those pure white eggs. I say, Cynthia, what are you grinning at?"

"I am not grinning. I am not a Cheshire cat."

"I don't know. I've already felt your claws once or twice. But you've got something funny in your head. The corners of your mouth are twitching, and your eyes are dancing like--like the river."

Cynthia cast up her blue eyes in mock admiration. "Hear! hear! He grows poetical. But as you are so very anxious to know what I am 'grinning' at," she added, demurely, "I'll tell you. I was only thinking of a little proverb I have heard. It had something to do with counting chickens before they are hatched."

"Oh, come off!" exclaimed Jack, while Neal laughed good-naturedly.

"And I've also a suggestion to make," went on Cynthia. "From what I have gathered during our short acquaintance, I think Mr. Neal Gordon isn't over-fond of exerting himself. I think it would be a good idea, Jack, when you sign your partnership papers, or whatever they are, to put in something about dividing the work as well as the expense _and_ the profits."

"There go your claws again," said Neal. "Let's change the subject by trying to catch a 'lucky-bug.'" And he made a grab towards the myriads of insects that were darting hither and thither on the surface of the water. "I'll give a prize--this fine new silver quarter to the one who catches a 'lucky-bug.'"

He laid the money on the thwart of the boat and made another dash.

"When you have lived on the river as long as I have you'll know that 'lucky-bugs' can't be caught," said Cynthia. "Now see what you have done, you silly boy!"

For with Neal's last effort the quarter had flown from the canoe and sunk with a splash in the river.

"Good-by, quarter!" sang Neal. "I might find you if I thought it would pay to get wet for the likes of you."

"If that is the way you treat quarters, I don't wonder you think your allowance isn't big enough," said Cynthia, severely; "and may I ask you a question?"

"You may ask a dozen; but the thing is, will I answer them?"

"You will if I ask them. Were you ever in a canoe before?"

"A desire to crush you tempts me to say 'yea,' but a stern regard for truth compels me to answer 'nay.'"

"You couldn't crush me if you tried for a week, and you couldn't make me believe you had ever been in a canoe before, for your actions show you haven't. People that have spent their time on yachts and sail-boats think they can go prancing about in a canoe and catch all the lucky-bugs they want. When you have upset us all you will stop prancing, I suppose."

"Claws again," groaned Neal, in exaggerated despair.

"I say, Cynth, let's go back and put him to work on that brooder," said Jack, who had been enjoying this sparring-match. "We'll see what work we can get out of him."

And, notwithstanding his remonstrances, Neal was paddled home and put to work. Cynthia's "claws" did take effect, and for the first time in his life he began to feel a little ashamed of being so lazy.

Jack was one of the plodding kind. His mind was not as brilliant as Neal's, nor his tongue as ready, but at the end of the year he would have more to show than Neal Gordon.

Mrs. Franklin carried out her plan of inviting their friends to the "hatching bee," and Thursday was the day on which the chicks were expected to come out. As the morning wore on Cynthia's excitement grew more and more intense, and all the family shared it.

"What shall we do if they don't come out?" she exclaimed a dozen times.

At one o'clock a crack was discovered in one of the eggs in the "thermometer row." At three it was a decided break, and several others could be seen. Cynthia declared that she heard a chirping, but it was very faint.

Mrs. Franklin remained upstairs to receive the guests, who came down as soon as they arrived. There were about a dozen girls and boys. Fortunately the cellar was large and airy, and the coolest place to be found on this warm summer day.

And presently the fun began. Pop! pop! went one egg after another, and out came a little struggling chick, which in due time floundered across the other eggs or the deserted egg-shells, and flopped down to the gravel beneath on the lower floor of the machine. It was funny to see them, and, as they gradually recovered from their efforts, and their feathers dried off, the little downy balls crowded at the front, and, chirping loudly, pecked at the glass.

Mrs. Franklin joined them now and then, and at last, when about seventy chicks had been hatched, she insisted upon all coming upstairs for a breath of fresh air before supper.

Here a surprise awaited them. Unknown to her daughters Mrs. Franklin had given orders that the supper-table should be arranged upon the lawn in the shade of the house, and when Edith stepped out on the piazza she paused in astonishment.

What terrible innovation into the manners and customs of Oakleigh was this? Last year, for a little party the children gave, she had wanted tea on the lawn, but it could not be accomplished. How had the new-comer managed to do it?

"Isn't this too lovely!" cried Gertrude Morgan, enthusiastically, turning to Edith. "My dear, I think you are the luckiest girl I ever knew, to have any one give you such a surprise. Didn't you really know a thing about it?"

"I have been consulted about nothing," returned Edith, stiffly. She would have liked to run upstairs and hide, out of sight of the whole affair.

"I hope you like the effect, Edith," said Mrs. Franklin, coming up to her as she stood on the piazza step. "I thought it would be great fun to surprise you."

"I detest surprises of all kinds," replied Edith, turning away, "and it seems to me I have had nothing else lately."

Much disappointed and greatly hurt, Mrs. Franklin was about to speak again, but at this moment Cynthia, enchanted with the success of the hatch, and with the pretty sight on the lawn, rushed up to her step-mother and squeezed her arm.

"You are a perfect dear!" she whispered. "Everything is nicer since you came. Even the chickens came out for you, and last time it was so dreadful." And Mrs. Franklin smiled again and felt comforted.

The table was decorated with roses and lovely ferns, strewn here and there with apparent carelessness, but really after much earnest study of effects. Bowls of great unhulled strawberries added their touch of color, as did the generous slices of golden sponge-cake. The dainty china and glass gleamed in the afternoon light, and the artistic arrangement added not a little to the already good appetites of the boys and girls.

Fortunately Oakleigh was equal to any emergency in the eating line, and as rapidly as the piles of three-cornered sandwiches, fairylike rolls, and other goodies disappeared the dishes were replenished as if by magic.

After supper the piano was rolled over to the front window in the long parlor.

"Put it close to the window," said Mrs. Franklin, "and I will sit outside, like the eldest daughter in _The Peterkins_, to play. That will give me the air, and you can hear the music better."

They danced on the lawn and played games to the music; then they gathered on the porch and sang college songs, while the sun sank at the end of the long summer day, and the stars came twinkling out, and by-and-by the full moon rose over the tree-tops and flooded them with her light.

Altogether, Jack's second "hatching bee" was a success. A good time, a good supper, and, best of all, one hundred and forty chickens. Yes, it really seemed as if poultry were going to pay, and "Franklin & Gordon," of the Oakleigh Poultry Farm, went to bed quite elated with prosperity.

The next morning at breakfast they were discussing the matter, and Mr. Franklin expressed his unqualified approval of the scheme.

"If you succeed in raising your chickens, now that they are hatched, Jack, my boy, I think you are all right. You owe Aunt Betsey a debt of thanks. By-the-way, where is Aunt Betsey? Have you heard from her lately?"

There was no answer. Jack exploded into a laugh which he quickly repressed, Edith looked very solemn, while Cynthia had the appearance of being on the verge of tears.

"I want to see Aunt Betsey," said Mrs. Franklin, as she buttered a roll for Willy. "I think she must be a very interesting character."

"It is very extraordinary that we have heard nothing from her," went on Mr. Franklin. "What can be the meaning of it? When was she last here, Edith?"

"In June."

"Was it when I was at home? Hasn't she been here since the time she gave Jack the money for the incubator?"

"That was in May. You were in Albany when she was here the last time."

"It is very strange that she has never written nor come to see you, Hester. It can't be that she is offended with something, can it? I must take you up to Wayborough to see the dear old lady. I am very fond of Aunt Betsey, and I would not hurt her feelings for the world."

There was a pause, and then into the silence came Janet's shrill tones:

"I know why Aunt Betsey's feelings are hurted. They was turribly hurted. Edith an' Cynthia an' Jack all knows too."

"Janet, hush!" interposed Edith.

"Not at all; let the child speak," said her father. "What do you know, Janet?"

"Aunt Betsey came, an' she went to see Mrs. Parker, an' Mrs. Parker said she'd been there before an' Aunt Betsey said she hadn't, an' it wasn't Aunt Betsey at all, it was Cynthia dressed up like her, an' Aunt Betsey said we was all naughty 'cause we didn't want the bride to come, an' the bride was mamma, and we didn't want her, it was the trufe, an' Aunt Betsey went off mad 'cause Cynthia dressed up like her. She wouldn't stay all night, she just went off slam-bang hopping mad."

"What does the child mean?" exclaimed her father. "Will some one explain? Edith, what was the trouble?"

"I would rather not say," said Edith, her eyes fastened on her plate.

"That is no way to speak to your father. Answer me."

"Papa, I cannot. It is not my affair."

"It is your affair. I insist."

"Wait, John," interposed Mrs. Franklin.

"Not at all; I can't wait. Edith was here in charge of the family. Something happened to offend Aunt Betsey. Now she must explain what it was. I hold her responsible."

"Indeed she's not, papa," said Cynthia, at last finding her voice. "Edith is not to blame; I am the one. I found Aunt Betsey's false front, and I dressed up and looked exactly like her, and Jack drove me to see Mrs. Parker. Edith didn't want me to go, but I would do it. Really, papa, Edith isn't a bit to blame. And then when Aunt Betsey came soon afterwards she went to see Mrs. Parker, and she didn't like it because she said she had been there two weeks ago and told her--I mean, Mrs. Parker told me about--"

Cynthia stopped abruptly.

"Well, go on," said her father, impatiently.

Still Cynthia said nothing.

"Cynthia, will you continue? If not--"

"Oh yes, papa; though--but--well, Mrs. Parker told me that you were going to marry again. And then when Aunt Betsey really went, Mrs. Parker said, 'I told you so.' Aunt Betsey didn't like that, and when she asked us if she had been here, of course we had to say no, and she was going right back to tell Mrs. Parker what we said; so I had to confess, and, of course, Aunt Betsey didn't like it, and she went right home that day."

Mr. Franklin pushed back his chair from the table, and began to walk up and down.

"I am perfectly astonished at your doing such a thing, and more astonished still that Edith--"

"Papa, please don't say another word about Edith. She didn't want me to go, and I would do it."

"Why have you not told me all this before?"

"Because, you see, I couldn't. I had heard that you were going to be married, and I didn't believe it until you told me; at least--"

Cynthia paused and grew uncomfortably red.

"Poor child!" said Mrs. Franklin, smiling at her sympathetically. "It must have been very hard for you."

"It was," said Cynthia, simply; "only you know, mamma, I don't feel a bit so now. And then when you came home, papa, it was all so exciting I forgot about it, and I have only thought of it once in a while, and--well, I've been afraid to tell you," she added, honestly.

"I should think so! I am glad you have the grace to be ashamed of yourself, Cynthia. Has no apology gone to Aunt Betsey?"

"No, papa."

"It is outrageous. The only thing to do is to go there at once. Jack, get the _Pathfinder_."

The _Pathfinder_, boon of New England households, was brought, and Mr. Franklin studied the trains for Wayborough.

"Hester, you had better come too. It is only proper that I should take you to call on Aunt Betsey. Get ready now, and we will go for the day."

The Franklins were quite accustomed to these sudden decisions on the part of their father, and Mrs. Franklin did not demur. She and Cynthia hurried off to make ready, and the carriage was ordered to take them to the station.

Cynthia's preparations did not take long. Her sailor-hat perched sadly on one side, her hair tied with a faded blue ribbon, one of the cuffs of her shirt-waist fastened with a pin. All this Edith took in at a glance.

"Cynthia, you look like a guy."

"I guess I am one."

"Don't be so terribly Yankee as to say 'guess.'"

"I am a Yankee, so why shouldn't I talk like one? Oh, Edith, what do I care about ribbons and sleeve-buttons when I have to go and apologize to Aunt Betsey."

Edith was supplying the deficiencies in her sister's toilet.

"It is too bad. Janet ought not to have told. But it is just like everything else--all Mrs. Franklin's fault."

"Edith, what do you mean? Mamma did not make Janet tell; she tried to stop papa."

"I know she _appeared_ to. But if papa had not married again would this ever have happened? You would not have heard at Mrs. Parker's that he was going to, Mrs. Parker wouldn't have said 'I told you so' to Aunt Betsey, Aunt Betsey wouldn't have found out you were there--"

"Edith, what a goose you are! Any other time you would scold me for having done it, and I know I deserve it. Now you are putting all the blame on mamma. You are terribly unjust."

"There, now, you have turned against me, all because of Mrs. Franklin. I declare it is too bad!"

"Oh, Edith, I do wonder when you will find out what a lovely woman mamma is! Of course you will have to some day; you can't help it. There, they are calling, and I must run! Good-by."

Hastily kissing her sister, Cynthia ran off.

Neal had much enjoyed the scene at the breakfast-table. He only wished that he had been present when Cynthia impersonated her aunt. It must have been immense. He wished that he could go also to Wayborough, but he was not invited to join the party. He was to be left alone for the day with Edith, for Mr. Franklin had decided that Jack should accompany them, to thank Aunt Betsey once more, and to tell her himself of the success of the hatch.

"I'll have to step round pretty lively, then," said Jack. "Those birds must get to the brooders before I go. Come along, Neal. It's an awful bore having to go to Wayborough the very first day. You'll have to look after the chicks, and don't you forget it."

The chickens safely housed, and the family gone, Neal prepared to enjoy the day. He had made up his mind to see something of Edith, and he had no idea of working by himself, especially as there was no absolute necessity for it.

"The day is too hot for work, anyhow," he said to himself.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

STORIES OF OUR GOVERNMENT.

THE PRESIDENT'S CABINET.

BY THE HONORABLE THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

The executive business of the national government is divided into eight departments, and the heads of these eight departments are known as Cabinet officers, and form the President's Cabinet.

It often happens that we use the same name that is used in England for an officer or an institution, which is not, however, quite the same, and is sometimes widely different, and we must always be on our guard not to be confused by such seeming similarity. This is true in our political life, just as it is true in our sports. For instance, we could not get an international match between Harvard, Yale, or Princeton, and Oxford or Cambridge on the football field, because, although football is played at all of them, yet the game in the American colleges is so different from that played in the English universities that it would be impossible to have American and English teams meet on the same ground, any more than we could put a baseball nine against a cricket eleven. It is just the same way in our politics. The Senate is sometimes spoken of as corresponding to the House of Lords; but they really have few points of resemblance, save that they are both second chambers. So the Speaker of the House of Representatives is sometimes spoken of as if his position corresponded to that of Speaker of the House of Commons. This is not true at all. The Speaker of the House of Commons is, properly, merely a moderator, like the moderator of a New England town meeting, and his duty is to preside and keep order, but not to be a Speaker, in our sense of the word, at all, not to give any utterance to party policy. In the American House, on the contrary, the Speaker is the great party leader, who is second in power and influence only to the President himself. The functions of the two officers have nothing in common, save in the mere presiding over the deliberations of the body itself.

So in England the cabinet officers are all legislators, exactly as the Prime Minister, their chief, and they are elected by separate constituencies just as he is. In America the cabinet officers are not legislators at all, and have no voice in legislation. Instead of being elected by their own constituencies, they are appointed by the President, and he is directly responsible for them. It is upon his Cabinet officers that the President has to rely for information as to what action to take, in ordinary cases, and he has to trust to them to see the actual executive business of the government well performed.

The chief of them all is the Secretary of State. At the Cabinet meetings he sits on the right hand of the President. He would take the President's place should both the President and the Vice-President die. It is he who shapes or advises the shaping of our foreign policy, and who has to deal with our ministers and consuls abroad. He does not have nearly as much work to do, under ordinary circumstances, as several other Cabinet officers; but whereas if they blunder it is only a question of internal affairs, and is a blunder that we ourselves can remedy, if the Secretary of State blunders it may involve the whole nation in war, or may involve the surrender of rights which ought never to be given up save through war. Questions of grave difficulty with foreign powers continually arise: now about fisheries or sealing rights with Great Britain, now about an island in the Pacific with Germany, now about some Cuban filibustering expedition with Spain, and again with some South-American or Asiatic power over insults offered to our flag, or outrages committed on our citizens. All of these questions come before the Secretary of State, and it is his duty to digest them thoroughly, and advise the President of the proper course to take in the matter. The Secretary of State very largely holds in his hands the national honor.

Next in importance to the Secretary of State comes the Secretary of the Treasury. The great economic questions which the country always has to face are those connected with the currency and the tariff, and the Secretary of the Treasury has to deal with both. On his policy it largely depends whether the business of our merchants is to shrink or grow, whether the workingmen in our factories shall see their wages increase or lessen, whether our debts shall be paid in money that is worth more or less than when they were contracted, or in money that is worth practically the same. I do not mean by this to say for a moment that the Secretary of the Treasury, or any other official, can do anything like as much for the prosperity of any class or of any individual as that class or individual can do for itself or himself. In the end it is each man's individual capacity and efforts which count for most. No legislation can make any man permanently prosperous; and the worst evil we can do is to persuade a man to trust to anything save his own powers and dogged perseverance. Nevertheless, the Secretary of the Treasury can shape a policy which will do great good or great harm to our industries; and, moreover, he has to work out the financial and tariff policies which he thinks the President and the party leaders demand. The position is therefore one of the utmost importance.

The Postmaster-General has to deal with more offices than any other official, for he has to control all the post-offices of the United States. He is the great administrative officer of the country. Unfortunately, under our stupid spoils system, postmasters are appointed merely for political reasons, and are changed with every change of party, no matter what their services to the community have been. This is a very silly and very brutal practice, and all friends of honest government are striving to overthrow it by bringing in the policy of civil service reform. Under this all these postmasters will be appointed purely because they will make good postmasters, and will render faithful service to the people of their districts, and they will be kept so long as they do render it, and no longer.

The Secretary of the Interior has to deal with the disposal and management of the great masses of lands we have in the West, and also he has to deal with the management of the Indians, and with the administration of the pension laws. All three are most difficult problems, and their solution demands the utmost care, patriotism, and intelligence.

The Attorney-General is the law officer of the government. He sees to the execution of the Federal laws throughout the country, and appoints his agents to do this work in every district of every State, and he also advises the President and heads of departments on all legal matters.

The Secretary of Agriculture is a man of mixed duties. A good many bureaus of one kind and another are under his supervision, and most of the scientific work of the government is done under him. Some of the scientific bureaus, however, are under other departments. The work done by these scientific bureaus, as by the coast survey and the geological survey, and by the zoologists in the department, has been of the very highest value, and has won cordial recognition from all European countries. Much of the work of the early scientific explorers in the West reads like a veritable romance; and this governmental work has added enormously to our knowledge in all branches of science, from the natural history of mammals and birds, to the geological formation of mountains, and the contour of the coasts.

The remaining two officers are the Secretary of the Navy and the Secretary of War. The Secretary of the Navy, again, occupies a most important position, for upon the navy depends to a very great extent the nation's power of protecting its citizens abroad, and of enforcing the respect to which it is entitled. Most fortunately for the last ten or twelve years the secretaries of the navy have done admirable work. Each has built on the good work of his predecessor, so that we are gradually getting our navy to a pitch where it can worthily uphold the honor and dignity of the American flag.

The Secretary of War is an officer whose duties are usually not very important, as he has comparatively little of consequence to do during time of peace, but is perhaps the most important officer of the Cabinet, with the sole exception of the Secretary of State, whenever a war arises. He has all kinds of work to do even in peace, however. Thus during the last two or three years the experiment has been tried on a large scale of working the Indians in as soldiers; and although hitherto this experiment has not had the success its promoters anticipated, yet good has been obtained by it. But when war comes, the Secretary, if not a powerful man, will be crushed helplessly; and if a powerful man, can do great good for the country and win a great name for himself, for in war he stands as one of the supreme officers, and upon his energy and capacity depends much of the success of the contest.

A strong President will usually make up his mind on certain policies and carry them out without regard to his Cabinet, merely informing them that their duty is to do the work allotted to them; but except in the case of these few policies, to which the President is committed, and the workings of which he thoroughly understands, he has to rely on his advisers.

The necessary advice is given him in these Cabinet meetings as well as privately. At these meetings the business of the departments is discussed, and also all questions of public policy of sufficient importance to make the President feel he would like advice about them. Of course the importance of the questions thus discussed may vary much, ranging between the adoption of a course of policy which may force Great Britain into war with us on the one hand, and on the other the abolition of the annual football games between Annapolis and West Point. The average Cabinet officer has a great responsibility, and can exert a most powerful influence for good or for evil throughout the entire republic.

This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.

You can tell me nothing about it, girls, nothing that I do not perfectly understand when you confide to me that you find vacation days rather slow of pace. Jenny Lucille spent last year in college, studying hard, and under high pressure from her entrance as a Freshman till the day she passed her examinations triumphantly, and was ready to begin her work as a Sophomore. It was due to her parents, who were making a great sacrifice in sending her from home, that she should do her best, and be an honor and credit to them, and being a girl of acute sensitiveness and much devotion to duty, Jenny would have been incapable of wasting her time. Then it is, after the first feeling of homesickness wears off, a gay and exciting world, this college world where so many young women are gathered, where there are sports and games and pleasant social evenings, and the feeling that something worth while is happening every day. The time flies, especially the last half of the last term, and at last, when there is a breaking-up, and the girls separate and take their different ways for home, notwithstanding their gladness that they are going to meet their dear home people, tears fill many eyes, and overflow furtively, and wet dainty handkerchiefs, and not till the train or the boat is fairly off are the faces quite bright again.

Well, home is reached, and home is sweet. How kind and hearty the father's greeting, how loving the mother's word and look, how much the children have grown, how nice it is to be in one's own room again, and to sit in one's own old seat at the dear home table! But after a little, if the household be a quiet one, and the village or town a place in which little goes on, the girl is vexed to find herself a wee bit blue. She wouldn't let anybody divine it; she shakes herself, and calls herself names in private, but she has to fight to be cheerful, and now and then she sits down and writes a long letter to her chum, and indulges in a good comfortable cry, with nobody to guess that she is not entirely contented, as indeed all sensible people would say she ought to be. The chum at Bar Harbor or Put-in-Bay, or some nook in the White or Green or Blue Mountains, some perch in the Rockies, or springs, or beach, or other gay resort, has had no time to be blue, and _her_ letter back will be a complete contrast to Jenny's.

Now, my dear Jenny, listen to me! This fit of low spirits will pass presently, and you will be none the worse for it, if you will just credit it to the account of reaction. Take hold of whatever work there is to do in the house, the harder the better, and do it with both hands. Read an entertaining book, not a study book, but a bright story, the novel people are talking about, or else the novel of yesterday, which you have always felt you ought to read, but have not yet had time to attack in earnest. Hawthorne, Wilkie Collins, Thackeray, Dickens, choose your author and your book, and float off into the life of imagination, which cheats the life of the actual of so much of its pain.

Whatever else you do, resolutely speak brightly and look cheerful. The brave effort to be bright and cheerful on the outside braces up the inside wonderfully, soul and body, as you know, being such inseparable partners.

WEATHER INDICATIONS.

If you can't afford a barometer to tell you what kind of weather you are going to have, perhaps the following old proverbs will prove of use in helping you to prophesy as to whether it will rain to-morrow or not:

If spiders in spinning their webs make the termination filaments long, we may, in proportion to the length, conclude that the weather will be serene, and continue so for ten or twelve days.

If many gnats are seen in the spring, expect a fine autumn; if gnats fly in compact bodies in the beams of the setting sun, there will be fine weather.

If the garden spiders break and destroy their webs and creep away, expect rain or showery weather.

If sheep, rams, and goats spring around in the meadows, and fight more than usual, expect rain.

If cattle leave off feeding, and chase each other around the pastures, rain.

If cats back their bodies and wash their faces, rain.

If foxes and dogs howl and bark more than usual, if dogs grow sleepy and dull, rain.

If moles cast up hills, rain.

If horses stretch out their nicks and sniff the air and assemble in the corner of a field with their heads to leeward, rain.

If rats and mice be restless, rain.

If peacocks and guinea fowls scream, and turkeys gobble, and if quails make more noise than usual, rain.

If the sea birds fly toward land, and land birds toward the sea, rain.

If the cock crows more than usual, and earlier, expect rain.

If swallows fly lower than usual, expect rain.

If bats flutter and beetles fly about, there will be fine weather.

If birds in general pick their feathers, wash themselves, and fly to their nests, rain.

Some of the queerest miscellaneous quips received are to the effect that:

If there are no falling stars to be seen on a bright summer evening, you may look for fine weather.

If there be many falling stars on a clear evening in summer, there will be thunder.

A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd's warning.

If fish bite more readily, and gambol near the surface of the ponds and streams, then look out for rain.

If porpoises and whales sport about ships, expect a hurricane.

The best proverb of all, however, is the following couplet:

A coming storm your toes and teeth presage; Your corns will ache, your hollow molars rage.

HOW TO MAKE A HERBARIUM.

BY CAROLINE A. CREEVEY.

A young lady who was a great lover of wild flowers once brought me a number of pressed specimens to name. They were carefully pressed, but were loosely laid between the pages of a magazine. Among them were several choice plants, one or two of the rarer orchids, and a ginseng that I had never found. In handling them the leaves and flower petals had become broken.

"Your specimens are being ruined," I said. "Why do you not gum them each on a separate piece of paper and lay them in a box? You have here an excellent beginning for a herbarium."

"Oh dear, no!" she said. "I never could take the trouble to make a herbarium. I don't care for the flowers after I know what they are. You may have them all, and welcome."

She had doubtless seen the longing look in my eyes. I was generous, however, and tried to persuade my friend to treasure her own flowers, which she had been at some pains to press, assuring her that the herbarium did certainly pay for its trouble, and that unless she were a collector she would fail of becoming a real botanist. My arguments had no effect, and I fell heir to my friend's specimens.

Another time a lady (a member of a botanical club) said to me: "I don't care to make a collection. I would as soon look at hay as dried plants. What I want to study is _living nature_."

This sounds like a fine sentiment, and if the herbarium were to take the place of out-door study, we would better burn our entire collection.

Here are the questions, then: How will the herbarium help us in our study of flowers? and Why is it not better to confine our study to "living nature"?

We cannot deny that the herbarium is a matter of time and trouble; but nothing worth having can be acquired without trouble. There is a lever which lightens all tasks wonderfully. That lever is enthusiasm. If you are enthusiastic about anything, you will be pretty sure to succeed, whether that thing be music, drawing, or even arithmetic. This is especially true of nature studies. The successful student of insects, birds, flowers, shells, or rocks must love his work with a passionate ardor. He must almost be a man with a hobby.

Now perhaps you will say, "I have not this enthusiasm, and therefore I shall not be successful." Let me tell you a secret. Nature herself inspires enthusiasm. You have but to work in any one of her departments, and you will learn to adore her. She is like a story-book. The first few pages, and especially the preface, are somewhat dry. But pretty soon, as the story opens up, you can hardly leave it for your meals or your sleep.

The principal value of a herbarium is that one has it always on hand for reference when the living flower cannot be studied. After the summer comes winter. My young lady who threw away her flowers forgot their names during the winter. She could not help forgetting some of them, for the botanical names of flowers are often hard to learn, being composed of Latin or Greek words, or of proper names with Latin terminations; and sometimes it would seem that the smaller and more unpretentious the plant the longer and more jaw-breaking its name.

When early spring comes, one can make a point of reviewing his herbarium and refreshing one's memory, so as to begin where he left off last fall. Thus each season's work is clear gain. The very labor necessary to make a herbarium impresses the flower and its peculiarities vividly upon the memory. If you handle and linger over your flowers, they will seem to you like pets whose sweet faces you cannot forget.

You want your herbarium, then, for reference, just as you need an encyclopaedia in your library. You want it when the snow is on the ground and there is no "living nature" in the flower realm to study.

Every page of the herbarium should look neat and pretty. In order to secure this result you must first know how to press your flowers. A flower once wilted can never be made to look nice on paper. It is therefore necessary to keep fresh the specimen you wish to preserve. You might carry a large book, and shut your flowers in it as soon as plucked. But that would be inconvenient. A better way is to buy a botany box and carry it with you in all your walks. You never know when you may find some new thing. The box is of tin, opening on one side, and it may hang by straps from your shoulder. If you lay a little wet moss inside, and close the door every time you lay in a flower, your plants will keep fresh in their cool dark nest for three or four days.

To press them tear up newspapers into uniform sizes. Newspapers are porous, and absorb the moisture from plant stems and leaves better than brown wrapping-paper. Insert several leaves of the newspaper between the single flowers. When all are ready, place the whole pile between two boards, the same size as the papers (any carpenter will cut them for you), and lay the whole under a heavy weight, like a trunk or pile of large books. Once a day look over your plants, and put those not quite pressed into clean dry papers. The papers already used, unless badly stained, can be spread out, dried, and used again. The problem is how to dry the plant quickly and thoroughly. The quicker it is dried the better it retains its colors. The petals will fade, but careful pressing will make them look very well, not at all like hay. If the plant be taken out of its press too soon its leaves will wrinkle. Some delicate plants will dry in twenty-four hours' time, others take three or four days, or even a week.

Have ready sheets of nice white paper. These you can get a printer to cut for you of uniform size. The regulation size is 17 by 11 inches. If the specimen be too long for the paper, bend the stem once or twice. A botanical specimen should include the whole stalk down to the root, unless, like some of the taller sunflowers, it be quite too long for the page. Place only one specimen on a page, and fasten it in several places with narrow strips of gummed paper. Last fall I had a bright idea. After the election I collected a number of unused ballot pasters. From these next summer I shall cut blank strips, already gummed, and I shall moisten them with a wet camel's-hair brush, and use them for my herbarium. Large leaves will stay down better if a drop of mucilage be placed in their centre. When the stem is very heavy I sew it with double thread tied on the under side, or I cut two small slits in my paper, and slip the stem through. As fast as sheets are prepared, leave them under a large book till the mucilage is dry. The page is then ready for labelling. Write now in the lower right-hand corner your own name, the botanical and common name of the flower, where and when found; or you can get labels with your name printed on them, which you can paste on the bottom of your page.

HERBARIUM OF J. BROWN.

_Caltha palustris_

(Marsh-Marigold).

IN MARSH NEAR BRIDGEPORT, MAY 3, 1894.

The papers belonging to the same family should now be placed inside of family covers, made of still brown paper, and these again should be inclosed in a box. I use the boxes in which tailors send my husband's shirts and suits of clothes. On the cover of the box write the families which it contains. That plan facilitates finding any particular specimen. Certain families, as ferns and orchids, go well together; mints and figworts are allied. Composites should have a box to themselves, and the species should be gathered into genus covers.

The botany gives directions for poisoning plants, if you are likely to be troubled with insects. Many of my mounted specimens are ten or twelve years old, yet I have never had any such annoyance. Therefore I do not poison my plants. I always use mucilage. Perhaps flour paste or starch would afford food for insects.

It is pleasant to keep a flower calendar as part of the herbarium. Procure a diary, and note the day when you first find certain flowers. This, if kept several successive years, will show interesting variations of season, and of the time of the flowering of the same plants.

For study of trees keep a leaf album. I know of no other way to learn the many species of oak and maple.

The herbarium is never a finished book. Each year, as you visit different parts of the country, you will add to its beautiful pages. You may well show it to your friends with pride. It is an achievement, a monument of your industry, and proof of your knowledge. To yourself it will be a source of never-ending pleasure. Here a leaf will recall a visit to a friend, a trip to the mountains, or a month at the sea-side. This flower suggests a picnic, or a shady walk, or mountain stroll with choice companions. Turn to the herbarium on a day in January, when the wind and snow are having a merry dance outside, and you will see visions of sweet woods, fresh fields, and blooming wild flowers, biding their time, but sure to come again.

THE RUNNING HIGH JUMP IN DETAIL.

From instantaneous photographs of Mr. Baltazzi jumping.

The pictures on the opposite page are reproductions of instantaneous photographs taken especially for this Department of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE. They clearly show the exact position and form of an athlete at the various stages of action in the running high jump, and a careful study of them will prove of great usefulness to any one desirous of perfecting himself in this particular branch of out-door athletics. The striking feature of the series is that it proves that a man practically steps over the bar with one stride, instead of flying over it in a compact bunch as he appears to do when watched by the naked eye. But before describing the jump itself, it will be best to give certain general directions about the necessary lay-out, and a few points on preliminary work.

In the first place, no one should start in to train for this event until after he is eleven or twelve years old. In fact, it is safe to say that no boy under this age ought ever to go into any kind of systematic athletic work, for his ambition is liable to lead him to injurious over-exertion. Don't do any high-jumping in the winter months; for running on a hard board floor is not a good thing, and you are apt to slip and get injured. If you want to take up jumping as a specialty, spend the winter, or the in-door season, in pulling weights so as to strengthen the back and chest, and in going through leg motions to fortify the limbs. No one can ever succeed as a high-jumper unless he has a well-developed chest and back. As will be seen later on, the strain on the dorsal muscles is practically what lifts the man over the bar. This sounds very much like lifting one's self up by the boot-straps, but it is nevertheless correct. The leg exercises are simple. There are two kinds. One is to lift yourself up on your toes. Start in by doing it about twenty-five times every day for a week; then increase the number until you get up to about three hundred times. An expert high-jumper can lift himself five hundred times without great fatigue. The second exercise is the "frog motion." This consists of placing the heels near together and of squatting and rising. Do this a few times only, to start with, and gradually bring yourself to the hundreds. Exercise the chest, as I have said before, with weights and dumbbells. Strengthen the back by bending over with the legs stiff, the arms thrown out in front until the finger-tips touch the floor easily.

The jumping costume should consist of a jersey suit rather than of a linen blouse and trousers, because the knit goods cling to the form and keep the muscles warm. The trousers should never reach the knees, which have to be kept free. The feet are encased in shoes made of kangaroo-skin, laced in front like running shoes, and are worn without socks. The left shoe is made several ounces heavier than the right, and is about twice as heavy as a sprinter's foot-wear. The heel is made of quarter-inch sole leather, and has two spikes. Some men jump with one spike in the middle of the heel, but this is very bad, because when the jumper alights his heel bone pounds on the spike and soon raises a stone bruise. If you have two spikes fixed at the extremities of diagonals drawn through the centre of the heel this bruising is easily avoided. There are no spikes on the heel of the right shoe, but the heel itself is made slightly thicker. In the toes of both shoes there should be six spikes.

A great many athletes who have gone in for high jumping have abandoned the sport after a few weeks of training because of sore heels. They should remember that the heel must be toughened as well as the other muscles, but as soon as it begins to feel sore, rest until it is in good condition again. A good way to avoid soreness of the heel and ankle is to keep that part of the foot thickly painted with iodine all the time. Keep the ankle absolutely black for several months, until the muscles there have become so tough and strong that there is no danger of straining or bruising. For the leg muscles, rubbing with alcohol is good, but do not resort to this too frequently. And in order to have the leg muscles in the best of condition, do not indulge in the frog motion and other exercises for a week or two previous to a match.

For practice the jumper should have two square posts about two inches thick, made of almost any kind of wood, and bored with holes one inch apart up to five feet eight inches, and half an inch apart above that. The pegs should be three inches long, and the bar, made of pine, should be about twelve feet long and one inch square. The posts are placed eight feet apart, and it is usual to hang a handkerchief over the centre of the crossbar, so that it can be seen better. A jumper must _always_ keep his eye on the bar from the time he starts to run until he lands safely on the other side. The runway should be eight feet wide and about forty feet long. It should be made of cinders, well rolled, and ought to be kept dampened so as to make it springy. Beyond the posts the earth should be turned over and raked, so as to make a soft landing-place.

There is no rule about how far off from the bar a jumper should start to run. The nearer the better, because less power is then wasted on the approach. In No. 1 the jumper has just started. He takes an easy gait at first, with his eye fixed on the bar, and he regulates his speed and his step so as to come to the "take-off" with his left foot. In jumping all the work is done with the left foot. A good way for a beginner to determine how far from the bar to take-off is to stand before it on one foot and lift the other until he can touch the cross-piece with his toes. He takes-off as far back as he can thus place one foot and touch the bar with the other. This distance from the base line between the posts to the take-off is usually equal to the height of the bar from the ground.

As the jumper approaches the bar he runs as fast as he can, and in picture No. 2 he reaches the take-off with his left foot. His heel strikes first (as may clearly be seen from the heavy mark underneath it), and gives the power for the jump. The toe merely gives direction to the motion imparted by the heel and the big shin muscle which connects with the heel. The leap has now begun, and with the right foot rising the jumper begins to sail over the bar. His line of travel is a perfect semicircle, beginning at the take-off, and ending in the soft ground on the other side at exactly the same distance from the base-line of the posts. No. 3 shows him still rising from the ground, his right foot giving the direction of the leap. The muscles of the arms and back are now just coming into play to raise the torso and the left leg--and all the time the eye is firmly fixed on the bar. In No. 4 the right foot is just passing over the handkerchief, and the arms and back are seen straining with the exertion of bringing up the left leg. Notice that muscle of the neck. It connects with the muscles of the side and abdomen, and these harden like steel to force the quick motion that has to be made to lift that side of the body. The strain on this neck muscle and the working of the back and arms are even better displayed in No. 5, where the left leg is almost up, and is about to clear the bar. Considerable practice is required for this motion, because it has to be done very quickly. The left foot has to be brought in very close to the right thigh, and yet the sharp spikes must be kept from tearing the flesh. Note how the eye is constantly on the bar.

In the next picture, No. 6, the bar has been cleared, the whole body is over, and the right leg has dropped. It is now no more used, except as a balance to the body, the entire work of the jump, as before stated, being done with the left leg. The jumper's eye is still fixed on the bar, and not until he is well over it, as shown in No. 7, does he remove his gaze. As he clears the stick his back muscles give a twist to his flying form, and his right arm thrown into the air aids him in turning, so that he will fall facing the bar. The left leg has now passed the right, and is making ready to sustain the weight of the body on landing, while the right is thrust slightly backward to sustain a proper equilibrium. The strain on the back and arms is relaxed. In No. 8 he is just about to land, and the camera has given us a beautiful display of the looseness of the arm muscles, showing the right arm still in the air and about to drop as soon as the feet strike the ground. The body is lying along the curve of the semicircle through which the jump has been made.

The bar in all these pictures was at 5 ft. 8 in., and each photograph necessitated a separate jump. This alone is enough to show in what excellent form the young athlete worked, for a kinetoscope could not have caught his separate actions in one leap to better effect than these photographs have shown them in eight different leaps. The ninth picture is a portrait of the clever young athlete, who is shown in action in all the others. He is S. A. W. Baltazzi, of the Harvard School of this city, who holds the interscholastic high-jumping record not only of the N.Y.I.S.A.A., but of the United States. At the Interscholastics last May he cleared 5 ft. 11 in., but since then he has covered 6 ft. in practice, and I have no doubt that he will defeat the Englishman who is coming over to represent the London Athletic Club at the international games this fall. Baltazzi is seventeen years old, and weighs 135 pounds. He began jumping while at St. Paul's School, Garden City, in 1891, and won first in a school competition with 4 ft. 9 in. At the school games of 1892 he took first, with a jump of 5 ft. 1/2 in., and in 1893, as a member of the Harvard School, he established the in-door scholastic record of 5 ft. 3-1/2 in., at the Berkeley School winter games. The following year, at the same games, he raised the record to 5 ft. 6-1/2 in., and subsequently took first in the Wilson and Kellogg games with a jump of 5 ft. 5 in. At the Interscholastics of 1894, Baltazzi and Rogers tied for first place at 5 ft. 9 in., breaking Fearing's Interscholastic record of 5 ft. 8-1/2 in. In September of that year he won first at Travers Island, jumping 5 ft. 7 in., and later in the winter he took first in the Barnard games with 5 ft. 8 in. Having taken first in the Berkeley, Poly. Prep., and Columbia College handicap games of 1895, he lifted the Interscholastic mark up to 5 ft. 11 in. at the Berkeley Oval in May. The following week, at the Inter-city games, he cleared 5 ft. 10-1/4 in., and took first at the N.Y.A.C. spring games with the same figure. Baltazzi expects to enter Columbia College this fall; and if he does, there are five points sure for the New-Yorkers at Mott Haven for some years to come.

The picture printed on this page is a reproduction of a photograph taken of G. B. Fearing, the Harvard high jumper, in 1892. Fearing held the record of the N.Y.I.S.A.A. until Rogers and Baltazzi broke it in 1894. His form was entirely different from Baltazzi's. As he clears the bar in this picture, both his feet appear to be curled up under his body, and his head is thrown forward and down. He seems to be almost reclining on his side, whereas Baltazzi makes the leap with his body practically perpendicular, although he necessarily bends forward in the motion which lifts the torso over the stick. Fearing's form as displayed in this photograph does not give the same idea of power and assurance as that shown by Baltazzi.

The prospects for record-breaking in the N.Y.I.S.A.A. next year are not very bright, for most of the record-breakers are leaving school. Besides Baltazzi, Tappin, the mile runner of Cutler's winning team, will go to Columbia. Yale will get Meehan, who is a clever half-miler, Ayres, the hammer-and-shot man of Condon's, Powell, the bicyclist, and Hackett, the mile walker. The first three in this last group hold United States interscholastic records in their events. Princeton's track team will no doubt secure three of Barnard's best athletes, Syme, Simpson, and Moore, whereas Harvard will only get one good man from the N.Y.I.S.A.A., Irwin-Martin. Cowperthwaite, broad jumper, and Beers, who holds the high hurdling record, will also leave school for college. This will make room for new men, and ought to be a good thing for the association.

A correspondent suggests that the schools of New York--and I don't see why it would not be just as good an idea for schools of other cities--hold an interscholastic bicycle meet this fall. At first thought this sounds like a very good scheme. There are few scholars, comparatively, who are strong enough, or who have the inclination to play football, and now that use of the bicycle has become so universal these could devote the fall season to preparation for a bicycle contest. Far be it from my intention to suggest to even the weakest football-player that he give up the gridiron for the bicycle; but I have seen so many young men standing around football fields watching the game, with no ability or desire to participate in it, that I welcome the suggestion of making the autumn a bicycle season too.

It is very probable that the inter-collegiate association will do away with bicycles at the Mott Haven games next spring. If they do, the interscholastic associations will no doubt follow suit, and then the wheelmen will find themselves, to a certain extent, out of it, if they have not already prepared for separate contests. It is right that bicycle events should be excluded from track and field meetings, because a running track is not the proper place for a bicycle race. Bicycle races, however, ought not to be given up entirely or left to professionals, because such racing is productive of good sport. The best course to pursue under the circumstances, then, is to have a meet especially for bicyclists. I am sure there are enough wheelmen in the schools to make it worth while, and the fall season with cold days and bracing air is just the time for such sport.

If a bicycle field day cannot be gotten up this fall, there is no reason why there should not be an interscholastic road race. The executive committee of the N.Y.I.S.A.A. could easily arrange such a contest, and offer a pennant to the winning school. Let each school of the association enter two riders, and let the managers of the race adopt a course. This can be easily done by looking over the back numbers of Harper's Round Table, and choosing a good road from one of the many bicycle maps of the vicinity of New York that have recently been printed. This would be a novelty in the way of school contests, in this section at least, although it is quite a common event with the California school associations.

THE GRADUATE.

This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Stamp Department.

Thirty years ago there were probably fifty coin-collectors where there is one to-day. As a consequence coins have now little value unless they are, first, coins of great rarity; or, second, scarce coins in absolutely uncirculated condition, or "mint state."

Dealers in coins whom I have questioned say that there is very little demand, and that in many instances they sell coins now at a lower price than they would have paid for them a generation ago. Further, if coins could be sold as quickly as stamps, they could afford to sell them at an even lower price. As it is, the interest on the capital locked up in stock and the cost of doing business are so large, that they make very little profit. The common obsolete coins (except U. S.) are bought by the dealers at the price of old metal. There is no money in collecting coin, but lots of fun.

JOS. GOLDSMITH.--The green 5c. Confederate unused is sold by dealers at 50c. The value of common stamps by the million depends on the assortment. If there is a fair quantity of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, and 15c., etc., they bring a good price. For 1c. and 2c. only there is little demand. Dealers' addresses are not given in this column.

HELEN MACKAY.--The used 3d. Canada unperforated is quoted in catalogues at 20c. on wove paper, $1 on laid paper, $1.50 on ribbed paper.

L. M. I.--The current blue special-delivery is printed from the same dies as the previous blue, but the lines have been deepened and two cross lines added under the words TEN and CENTS.

WILLIE K.--No premium on the coins. The stamp is the 3c. blue 1869 U. S.

G. TARLETON.--U. S. fractional currency has no value beyond face unless it is absolutely uncirculated. There ought to be a demand for these interesting war relics, but practically there is none. Dealers sell them at a small advance over face.

D. R. O'SULLIVAN.--There is no premium on the coins mentioned. Rare coins if worn by use have very little value. High prices are paid for rare coins if in "mint state," that is the condition when the coins are new and uncirculated.

A. E. BARRON, Tarrytown, N. Y., wants to correspond and trade with stamp-collectors. He has the beginning of a good collection.

H. B. THAW.--The Bloods Penny Post is catalogued at 50c. There are three varieties of the Bloods Despatch worth from 15c. to $4 each. The Adams Express is not a stamp. It is probably a trade-mark.

R. CRAIG.--State Revenues, as a rule, are collected only in the State using them. General collectors do not buy them, and consequently they are not catalogued.

A. LOWKOWSKY.--The letter-sheets will no longer be made. There are eight main varieties--series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and the first issue without series number. They are not classed as stamps, but as envelopes, and envelopes are not collected as generally as adhesive stamps. I believe you can buy the $3, $4, and $5 Columbian stamps at face from the Washington, D.C., Post-office.

R. G. HUGHES.--It is a Colombian revenue stamp. These stamps are not generally collected except in Colombia, and hence no value can be given. Your sketch is admirably well done.

R. MOODY.--The stamp is the 3c. 1869 U. S., and is sold by dealers at 2c. The coin has no premium.

LEWIS E. B.--If the coins are in mint condition the dealers will probably buy at a premium. If not uncirculated they are worth face only.

L. KENTON.--The coin and bank token do not command a premium.

P. B. EVANS.--The 10c. U. S. you mention is the 1861 issue if not grilled. If grilled it is the 1868 issue. Your questions as to values have been answered several times in this column. You can get a late catalogue of any dealer at a small price.

M. N.--If in mint condition the dealers will buy, otherwise they are worth face only.

ROBERT CRAIG.--Not worth more than face.

G. L. MURPHY.--Not generally collected in the U. S., hence no value can be quoted.

A. MITTEL.--The coin is probably the William III. of England. The stamp is the current 2c. postage-due.

A. BEE.--The unused U. S. and British North American Colonies stamps issued before 1865 are all advancing in price rapidly. The used stamps are also advancing, but slowly.

J. WOLFERT.--If the stamps you mention are in good condition I would advise you to sell them by auction. Rarities bring a higher price when all the big collectors compete for them. Common stamps, on the other hand, do not bring catalogue price at auction.

W. J. HOLBECK.--The Mobile 5c. blue is quoted at $7.50. If on the envelope do not take it off.

J. ADAMS.--The present $1 black U. S., it is said, will soon be printed in another color. The 8c. with triangular ornaments is on sale at many offices. No copies have yet been seen with the white-framed triangular ornaments.

FRANK T.--Almost any dealer can supply you with a complete set of the U. S. stamps (cancelled) showing die varieties between 1870-1882. It consists of the 1c., 3c., 6c., 7c., 10c., and 12c., and, counting shades, numbers about twenty stamps. Prices vary.

M. C. WRIGHT.--The best way is to go to responsible stamp-dealers, look over their stock, and take no damaged stamps at any price, however low.

ROUND TABLE.--I do not know to what "1894 penny" you refer. The dimes have no premium.

S. T. DODD.--Yes. The present issue of U. S. will probably all be printed on water-marked paper.

PHILATUS.

War-time Memories.

My grandmamma is an old lady, and lived in Atlanta, Ga., at the time Sherman and his soldiers, on their famous march to the sea, took possession of that city. She buried her plate and valuables under the house. Her husband was away in the service of the Confederate Army, and she was left alone with two or three little children.

One night two young officers came and knocked on the door, demanding admittance, which she refused. They grew angry and made some terrible threats. Grandmamma had an army musket in the house. She told them if they didn't desist she would fire through the door at them. After some further parley they left. But they returned the next morning and told her she was the spunkiest little woman they ever saw.

One day grandmamma received some fresh sausage from the country. Presently in entered a man wearing the blue. He took those sausage and stuffed his pockets full. On the table was a large sugar-bowl, filled. He picked it up and carried it away, dipping the raw sausage in the sugar and eating it.

Finally, grandmamma obtained guards to protect the house. One cold night one of the guards was dozing in front of the fire when in stalked a huge Indian. Planting himself in front of the fire, he began to act and talk in a shocking way. The guard promptly ejected him.

Such were a few of the many experiences of my grandmother during the "times that tried men's souls."

Correspondents wanted.

HARRY R. WHITCOMB. UMATILLA, FLA.

On the La Viga Canal.

I will tell you about our big canal, La Viga. At the park called the "Zocalo" one takes the tram. After going through a good many dirty streets the tram lands you at the "Embarcadero," a clean spot, where you get into flat-boats that look like barges. The first town you come to is called Jamaica. Here there are lots of canoes filled with vegetables, which are very cheap indeed. Along the route you usually meet women in canoes selling tamales. These are made of corn boiled, crushed, some "chile" added, and then the whole put into cornhusks. They are good eating. The next town you come to is Santa Anita, where you get off, if you wish, eat some tamales, and drink some pulque. Leaving Santa Anita, you reach, a little way out, what used to be floating gardens--now delightful places for picnics.

R. L. MILLER, JUN. CITY OF MEXICO.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Highest of all in Leavening Power.--Latest U. S. Gov't Report.

HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,

Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.

This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recognizing the value of the work being done by the L. A. W. the Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.

The map this week shows the macadamized and asphalted streets in Philadelphia and its vicinity; and for all bicycle-riders who live near the Quaker City, or who think of going there, this map will prove of great value. It will be very easily seen that Philadelphia is eminently adapted to bicycling. In the first place, Broad Street runs from League Island entirely through the city, and out to the Willow Grove turnpike on the north. To get in and out of Philadelphia either to the south or the north, therefore, one needs but to take the shortest route to Broad Street, which is kept in admirable condition. Furthermore, one can get with the utmost ease to the river--_i. e._, the Delaware--by turning from Broad Street either down Chestnut, Walnut, Locust, Spruce, or Pine. The Market Street ferry is perhaps best reached by taking Chestnut Street, and then turning a block north just before reaching the river.

In making this map it has been found advisable, for the better clearness of the reproduction, to omit a good many unimportant streets in the heart of the city. Every asphalted or macadamized street in Philadelphia is given, but in many cases other streets are omitted, or every alternate street is given. The wheelman who studies the map may very likely count a certain number of blocks on the map to the place where he wishes to go, and in that case he would be somewhat mystified in making this map agree with his count. Names are given in the case of macadam or asphalt streets, and you have only to watch for those names on the signs to find any place in the city and to keep the situation before your eyes.

Within the next few weeks we intend to publish certain of the best trips in the vicinity of Philadelphia, and it will be important to study this map, in connection with those, to discover the best method of getting out of the city in different directions. For example, to get out to Fairmount Park from the public buildings, run north on Broad Street from the buildings to Spring Garden Street, thence turning left, proceed to or across the river--the Schuylkill. In either case, turn to the right immediately before or after crossing, and the run is direct to the park. By not crossing, and following the river up through the park, you will come to the Wissahickon road. By crossing, and running out Belmont Avenue, you get into Montgomery County, and so out of the city. Germantown may be reached by the Wissahickon road or by keeping straight to the northward on Broad Street until you reach Tioga Street. Turning left into this, you soon run into the Chestnut Hill road, and can keep to this until entering Germantown at School Lane. All through Germantown, and out to the north and westward there are beautiful roads of macadam that it is a pleasure to ride over.

Turning in the other direction, the rider, by bearing to the right into Rising Sun Lane from Broad Street, will have a clear course out of Philadelphia to the northeastward. By turning right into Lehigh Avenue, and continuing over Belgian block pavement to Kensington Avenue, he will run into Frankford, which is the way he has come from New York. The roads out of Camden on the other side of the Delaware are clearly marked. Crossing the Market Street ferry, you go south by Broadway or north by Pea Shore road, and by studying the map the rider will see where are the best roads for reaching Essington, Derby, Lansdown, and Haverford on the southwest.

Note.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814. Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in 820. Trenton to Philadelphia in 821.

SPEED.

One who has made a study of the subject states that the average rates of speed attained by certain travelling things, are as follows: A man walks three miles an hour; a horse trots seven; steamboats run eighteen; sailing vessels make ten; slow rivers flow four; rapid rivers flow seven; storms move thirty-six; hurricanes, eighty; a rifle ball, one thousand miles a minute; sound, eleven hundred and forty-three; light, one hundred and ninety thousand; electricity, two hundred and eighty thousand.

* * * * *

A GOOD CHILD

is usually healthy, and both conditions are developed by use of proper food. The Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is the best infant's food; so easily prepared that improper feeding is inexcusable and unnecessary.--[_Adv._]

ADVERTISEMENTS.

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Constable & Co.

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=Caution:= In view of the many imitations of the labels and wrappers on our goods, consumers should make sure that our place of manufacture, namely, =Dorchester, Mass.=, is printed on each package.

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SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.

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WALTER BAKER & CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.

COLUMBIA

QUALITY

always maintained. Far more Columbia bicycles than ever this year. Far more care that no imperfect Columbias go out.

=$100 for a Columbia means $200 of pleasure and satisfaction.=

* * * * *

Pope Manufacturing Co.

General Offices and Factories, Hartford, Conn.

BRANCH STORES: Boston, New York, Chicago, Providence, Philadelphia, Buffalo, Brooklyn, Baltimore, Washington, San Francisco.

Postage Stamps, &c.

100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti, Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts wanted at 50 per ct. com. List FREE!

=C. A. Stegmann=, 2722 Eads Av., St. Louis, Mo.

=STAMPS!= =300= fine mixed Victoria, Cape of G. H., India, Japan, etc., with fine Stamp Album, only =10c.= New 80-p. Price-list =free=. _Agents wanted_ at =50%= commission. STANDARD STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place, St. Louis, Mo. Old U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.

WONDER CABINET =FREE=. Missing Link Puzzle, Devil's Bottle, Pocket Camera, Latest Wire Puzzle, Spook Photos, Book of Sleight of Hand, Total Value 60c. Sent free with immense catalogue of 1000 Bargains for 10c. for postage.

INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 Cortlandt Street N. Y.

HARPER'S PERIODICALS.

Per Year:

HARPER'S MAGAZINE _Postage Free_, $4.00 HARPER'S WEEKLY " 4.00 HARPER'S BAZAR " 4.00 HARPER'S ROUND TABLE " 2.00

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_Booksellers and Postmasters usually receive subscriptions. Subscriptions sent direct to the publishers should be accompanied by Post-office Money Order or Draft._

* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, N. Y.

A Good Natural History Morsel.

Vacation and moth-time come hand in hand the first week in July. The boys of the neighborhood come yelling from school to eat supper and go to bed to be up at six o'clock. At six o'clock around comes a man with a leather pouch filled with carbon sticks. One by one the boys, some on bicycles, some on foot, begin to follow him. Let us suppose we have joined the procession. We come to an electric light. As the light is let down the boys begin to jump up and down, yell, push, etc., to get first pick.

The man takes a fine brush and quickly cleans the globe. As the insects fall to the ground there is a general scramble. We are lucky enough to get a fine specimen of a Luna, and start for home to save us from getting mobbed. One of the most common of the large moths found in the globes is the Luna (_Attacus luna_). The spread of the wings is from three to four inches. The general color is a beautiful tint of green. The edges of the fore wings are brown, the streak crossing the body. There are four eye spots, one on each wing. A white furry body and light golden antennae complete the colors of this beautiful, delicate moth.

Another of the beautiful moths is the Cecropia (_Attacus cecropia_). The general color is a beautiful brown, and the usual eye spots are prevalent. The Io (_Saturnia Io_) is a rival of the Luna in beauty. It is of a deep yellow with purplish-red markings and the usual eye spots. The Attacus Prometheus and Polyphemous moths are occasionally found in the globe. The most common victims are the Sphinx moths, who have a very long name, _Macroscla quinquemaculata_.

ALBERT W. ATWATER, R.T.K. SPRINGFIELD, Mass.

Facts About Alaskan Indians

Some time since, Sir Knight James F. Rodgers, of Tiffin, Ohio, wrote us: "A man gave an illustrated lecture on Alaska at our school-house. He said, 'That when a girl arrives at the age of fourteen she is taken to the mountains and confined in a house for one year; when a girl arrives at the age of eighteen her parents put a wooden button in her lower lip; that the people worship the white crow.' Are these statements true?"

In reply, Mr. O. T. Mason, Curator of the Department of Ethnology in the National Museum, Washington, very kindly says: "I take special pleasure in answering the inquiries of James F. Rodgers, of Tiffin, Ohio. He may have misunderstood the lecturer somewhat, and, therefore, without characterizing it, say, first, that among all savage tribes in the world there is a custom of separating young women when they come to be of marriageable age. These customs differ from tribe to tribe, and the length of time of their separation varies. There are no high mountains in Alaska, and one year seems to be rather a long period, yet the general fact remains; secondly, a button of wood, or ivory, or stone, called a labret, is placed in the lower lip of girls, in some tribes of boys, in other of both. Among the Eskimo and the Indians of Alaska, as the child grows older and the orifice becomes enlarged, a stone or block of wood of greater and greater size is inserted, until I have seen a block at least 2-1/2 inches in diameter taken from the lip of an old woman. The Botocudos of South America, on the Amazon, are especially curious in this regard, for they not only insert enormous blocks in their lips, but also in the lobe of the ear, until it falls upon the shoulder; thirdly, as to the worship of the Alaskan natives, it should be said that there are two kinds of natives in Alaska--Eskimo and Indians. The Eskimo have one sort of primitive religion, the Indians quite another sort. It does not convey exactly the right idea to us that the natives worship anything, certainly it is very far from the truth to say that anybody in Alaska worships the white crow.

"The Indians of Alaska, like the other Indians of America, are divided up in their tribal relations into bands or clans called 'Totems,' and these are generally named after some prominent animal of the region. Great respect is paid to these animals, and frequently the clan refrains from eating the whole or a portion of the totemic animal. It is a very interesting study. I cannot find out that the Eskimos have any definite names for the objects of which they stand in awe. They have among them a class of men called 'Shammans,' who believe in spirits and practise certain rules for the influencing and controlling these spirits. The same worship is common all over Siberia and northern Europe. None of these people have an organized form of worship. Such a thing would be impossible in a country so forlorn and cold."

Kinks.

No. 90.--BEN BOLT. (_A NEW VERSION._)

THIRTY PROPER NAMES CONCEALED.

O don't you remember old Sally, Ben Bolt, Old Sally whose hair was so red, Her matutinal cry of "Buy any shad?" Racked our ears till we wished we were dead. In a small back yard off the alley, Ben Bolt, The miserly fish-wife of yore Sits nursing her hord, while she counts once again The same sheckles she counted before.

O don't you remember the streamlet, Ben Bolt, Where the boys that played hookey from school Sat snug on the banks eating taffy and pie, Or bathed in the clear crystal pool. But next day, perhaps, you remember, Ben Bolt, We would fain for a bed negotiate, Our respective papas had the evening before Plied the rod at so lively a rate.

O don't you remember our teacher, Ben Bolt, The man so averse to all fun? No ham bone or sparerib sent up to our rooms But he sniffed it and took it away. Near the church round the corner they've laid him at last, Where the willows 'n sympathy wave, And the mocking-bird, chorister meet for a Czar, Gently warbles a dirge o'er his grave.

* * * * *

No. 91.--PECULIAR WORD SQUARE.

1 10 11 2 4 * * 3 5 * * 6 8 9 12 7

1 to 2 is exalted reputation. 3 to 4 is one of the surfaces of a solid. 5 to 6 is a strain sung by a single voice. 7 to 8 is to repose or recline from labor. 1 to 8 is a snug abode. 9 to 10 is a summer drink extensively used. 11 to 12 is equivalent to 320 rods. 7 to 2 is a well-known and beautiful flower.

M. BEEMAN STOUT. LYONS.

Answers to Kinks.

No. 89.

1. "Elm."--Holmes. 2. "Chestnut."--Holmes. 3. "Norway pines; larches."--Phebe Cary. 4. "Chestnuts."--Holmes. 5. "Spice-trees."--Holmes. 6. "Pine-tree."--Whittier. 7. "Pines."--Paul Hamilton Hayne. 8. "Pine-trees; oaks."--J. T. Trowbridge. 9. "Willow."--Holmes. 10. "Pine; elm."--Holmes. 11. "Hemlock."--Holmes. 12. "Hemlock-tree; hemlock-tree."--Longfellow.

Rabbits and Water

Victor Gage wanted to know the experience of others who have kept rabbits. I have kept them for the last five years. I find that they will not drink water if you feed them on clover, grass, cabbage, lettuce, turnip tops, and other green plants. There is always a little dew on this food. If there is much dew, they will get enough water to last them all day, and often for three or four days. On the other hand, if you feed them on dry food, such as hay, oats, corn, stale bread, and other dry things, they will generally drink water about two or three times a week, and sometimes every day.

I keep my rabbits in a house somewhat like the one Mr. Chase illustrated in the Round Table some weeks ago. When it rains and the rabbits are thirsty, they will lick the drops of rain as they run down the wire netting. I think that if Mr. Gage feeds his rabbits on the dry food mentioned for four or five days and then give them water, he will be convinced that rabbits do drink.

LION GARDINER. CONCORD, N. H.

Questions and Answers.

Vincent V. M. Beede, East Orange, N. J., asks some members to describe some less common games of dominoes, and tell the origin of the game croquet. Let's have them in the form of morsels for printing. L. V. Riddle, 13 Roanoke Avenue, Jamaica Plain, Boston, Mass., is interested in botany, and wants to hear from Albert W. Atwater and all young naturalists and botanists. Ralph Cain, 1041 Santa Fe Street, Atchison, Kan., thinks it would be a capital idea to form an electrician Chapter about the Table, and would like to have other members join him. He hopes to become an electrical engineer--an excellent direction for one's ambition just now, we think, for electricity is to be the motive power of the future far more than it is now. Knights of to-day who reach their threescore and ten in due time will see steam supplanted by it on our railways. Sir Ralph will find Callaud cells, duplicated for strength, the battery most used for sustained power. The arc light is the result of frictional not chemical electricity.

W. D. S.: What is the simplest and cheapest form of electric battery depends upon the use for which the battery is needed. Electricians use the blue-stone for telegraph or closed-circuit work; sal-ammoniac or Leclanche and other open-circuit batteries for electric bells and burglar-alarms; acid batteries, such as Grenet, Bunsen, and others, for electro-plating, and dry batteries for medical use. The cost is from $1.50 to $5 per cell. Books on electricity are divided into subjects. For instance, Ayrton's _Practical Electricity_ is a series of lectures for students, $2.50, while Mayer's work, at $3.50, treats wholly of telegraphy. Ask J. H. Bunnell & Co., 76 Cortlandt Street, N. Y., for their catalogue, which they send free if you mention the Round Table. Mary Newell Eaton, 197 South Lafayette Street, Grand Rapids. Mich., wants in-door games for persons of sixteen to twenty. She also wants to hear from any member who has visited or who now lives in Italy or China. She may send us the morsel she mentions.

* * * * *

Joseph H. Durant hopes we will publish a story every other week that young artists may illustrate. We could hardly find space for one so often, but we intend to offer some prizes for illustrations. Conditions will be announced soon. Sir Joseph must learn to use India ink or water-colors (black only). Pencil cannot be reproduced at all, and crayon but poorly. John H. Campbell, Jun., 413 School Lane, Germantown, Philadelphia, Pa., wants to receive sample copies of amateur papers, to join corresponding clubs, and to hear from members in Germantown with a view of forming a local Chapter.

Smith Phillips sends us some odd epitaphs from tombstones in a cemetery at Brownsville, Pa. Such oddities are in many similar yards. It is in this cemetery, by-the-way, that the parents of James G. Blaine are interred. Speaking of cemeteries, can any one tell us why we use single slabs set up at the head of the grave, while in England and France, countries from which we borrowed most of our customs, one sees quite different marks of graves? Where did we get our idea? Who can tell the Table?

Ronald Chipchase thinks we should add swimming to our list of all-around sport events when we offer another medal. Lloyd Thomas asks how to make a simple telescope for use in studying astronomy. Better not make it at all. One that is of any real use can only be made by an expert, and is expensive. G. D. Galloway, Oakwood Place, Eau Claire, Wis., publishes the _Albermarle_, and wants to send you a sample. It is a neat eight-page amateur paper. Will Fred Hawthorne tell us about the fruits of Jamaica--what ones are ripe when he writes. Compare them, date for date, with their appearance in Massachusetts, and carefully describe those that we do not have. Sir Fred, we should explain, lives at "Mona Great House," Kingston, British West Indies.

CAMERA CLUB.

PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 9.

TREATMENT OF UNDER-EXPOSED PLATES

By an "under-exposed plate" is meant a plate which has not been exposed long enough to the action of light for the objects to make a deep enough impression in the silver salts, or to cause the chemical change to take place which makes the perfect picture.

The normal development of an under-exposed plate results in a negative in which the high or white lights are very strong, and have a chalky appearance in the print, while the shadows have little or no detail; and where a plate has been much under-exposed, only clear glass is the result of the development. The reason why the high lights appear so harsh and strong is due to the fact that to get detail in the shadows the development is carried on till the high lights are very much over-developed and the film has become dense.

The practised amateur usually knows whether his plate has been under-exposed or not, and treats it accordingly. The beginner, not having learned how to gauge exposures correctly, must learn how to distinguish an under-exposed plate as soon as the developer begins to act on it, so that he may get a good, or fairly good, negative.

If a plate which has been under-exposed is placed in a normal developer, the high lights will be some time in coming out, and the shadows will not appear at all, or, if they do, will be very dim. If the development is continued in order to bring out detail, the plate is apt to fog, and is then spoiled entirely.

If the rest of the image does not follow the high lights in a reasonable length of time, take the plate from the developer and place it in clean water. It will do no harm if it stands in water for a few minutes, for water will bring out detail in an under-exposed plate.

Nothing has been said about the different kinds of developers, though they will be fully treated in later papers. The beginner should stick to one developer till he has learned just how to use it.

If one is using pyro, a fresh solution should be at once made up, using half the quantity of pyro given in the formula, and the full amount of the alkaline solution. The pyro is the developing agent, or that which gives the required strength or density, while the alkaline solution, containing the sulphite of soda, prevents the staining of the negative and preserves the pyro. After the development of the plate is finished turn off the solution, leave the plate in the tray, pour water over it, and allow it to stand for fifteen or twenty minutes, being careful that it is covered from the light.

If one uses hydrochinon, which is a favorite developing agent with amateurs, dilute the developer and add from three to seven drops of iodide solution. This solution is composed of 1 grain of iodine, 1 ounce of water, 1 ounce of alcohol. Mark the bottle "Accelerator." This solution hastens the development of the image and brings it up evenly, and the contrasts between the lights and shadows are made soft and delicate.

Copyright, 1895, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.

Plenty of fresh air, an abundance of sleep, a careful diet and the daily use of a good soap like the Ivory will purify the complexion as no cosmetic can.

EARN A TRICYCLE!

We wish to introduce our Teas, Spices, and Baking Powder. Sell 30 lbs. and we will give you a Fairy Tricycle; sell 25 lbs. for a solid Silver Watch and Chain; 50 lbs. for a Gold Watch and Chain; 75 lbs. for a Bicycle; 10 lbs. for a Beautiful Gold Ring. Express prepaid if cash is sent for goods. Write for catalog and order sheet.

W. G. BAKER,

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT of the award on

=GILLOTT'S PENS= at the Chicago Exposition.

=AWARD:= "For excellence of steel used in their manufacture, it being fine grained and elastic; superior workmanship, especially shown by the careful grinding which leaves the pens free from defects. The tempering is excellent and the action of the finished pens perfect."

(Signed) FRANZ VOGT, _Individual Judge_.

Approved: { H. I. KIMBALL, _Pres't Departmental Committee_. { JOHN BOYD THACHER, _Chairman Exec. Com. on Awards_.

=SEND for Catalogue of= the =Musical Instrument= you think of buying. =Violins repaired= by the Cremona System. C. STORY, 26 Central St., Boston. Mass.

OUT-DOOR BOOKS

=PRACTICAL LAWN-TENNIS.= By JAMES DWIGHT, M.D. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

=AMONG THE NORTHERN HILLS.= By WILLIAM C. PRIME, LL.D. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1.00.

=ALONG NEW ENGLAND ROADS.= By WILLIAM C. PRIME, LL.D. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1.00.

=I GO A-FISHING.= By WILLIAM C. PRIME, LL.D. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.00; Paper, 50 cents.

=HOW WOMEN SHOULD RIDE.= By "C. DE HURST." Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

=FIELD-FARINGS.= A Vagrant Chronicle of Earth and Sky. By MARTHA MCCULLOCH WILLIAMS. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1.00.

=FOLLY AND FRESH AIR.= By EDEN PHILLPOTTS. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

=SEEN FROM THE SADDLE.= By ISA CARRINGTON CABELL. With an Illustration. 32mo, Cloth, Ornamental, 50 cents.

=GLIMPSES OF NATURE.= By ANDREW WILSON. With 35 Illustrations. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25.

=AMERICAN FOOTBALL.= By WALTER CAMP. New and Revised Edition. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

=A SPORTING PILGRIMAGE.= Riding to Hounds, Golf, Rowing, Football, Club and University Athletics. Studies in English Sport, Past and Present. By CASPAR W. WHITNEY. Copiously Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3.50.

=RECREATIONS IN BOTANY.= By CAROLINE A. CREEVEY. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50.

=UPLAND AND MEADOW.= A Poaetquissings Chronicle. By C. C. ABBOTT. 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50.

=WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS.= By C. C. ABBOTT. 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50.

=FLY-RODS AND FLY-TACKLE.= Suggestions as to their Manufacture and Use. By HENRY P. WELLS. Illustrated. Small 4to, Cloth, Ornamental, $2.50.

=SALMON-FISHING.= The American Salmon-Fisherman. By HENRY P. WELLS. Illustrated. Small 4to, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.00.

=CITY BOYS IN THE WOODS;= or, A Trapping Venture in Maine. By HENRY P. WELLS. Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $2.50.

=CAMP LIFE IN THE WOODS=, and the Tricks of Trapping and Trap-Making. By W. HAMILTON GIBSON. Illustrated by the Author. Square 16mo. Cloth, $1.00.

=A FAMILY CANOE TRIP.= By FLORENCE WATTERS SNEDEKER. Illustrated. 32 mo, Cloth, Ornamental, 50 cents.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_The above works are for sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the publishers, postage prepaid, on receipt of the price._

CARAWAY SEEDS.

I'm going to plant these little seeds, And some fine day I'll wake To find a pretty spreading stalk All bending down with cake.

HARD WORK.

"Well," said Jack, "vacation has begun, and I'm just as busy as ever."

"Doing what?" asked his father.

"Finding something to do," said Jack. "And I tell you, Daddy, it's hard work."

PROOF POSITIVE.

PERCY. "Don't two negatives make an affirmative?"

PAPA. "Yes, Percy."

PERCY. "Then I'm awful smart."

PAPA. "Why?"

PERCY. "Because the teacher says I'm a 'Know-nothing.'"

All great artists have queer experiences during their lives, which the biographer loves to dwell upon in his books of anecdotes. Here is one that occurred to the great pianist Paderewski in England. He received a polite letter from an invalid lady, asking him if he would spare the time to play her one piece during an afternoon, as her health would not permit of her going to any crowded concert-room, the letter closing with an offer of a half a guinea reward.

Paderewski replied with an invitation to call at his hotel, appointing an hour when he would receive her. The lady called, and Paderewski, after pleasantly greeting her, sat before his piano and played a prelude, a nocturne of Chopin, and Songs without Words.

The little impromptu concert over, the lady rose, thanked the virtuoso most graciously, and extended her hand to bid him adieu, slipping the promised half-guinea into his palm.

"Ah, what is this?" Paderewski inquired.

"Why," she said, sweetly, "it's the half-guinea I promised you."

"Now, I really believe," he answered, with a smile, "that I shall be able to get to the next town without it." And pleasantly returning the coin, he bowed the lady out.

Napoleon's smooth face was a sure evidence of his dislike for a beard. In some anecdotes of the Russian campaign there is a story told of the great Emperor and a poor but witty barber, who had occasion to shave him.

Napoleon had made a rather lengthy detour from the line of march with a detachment of officers. Arriving at a small village they refreshed themselves with a good meal and baths. Napoleon, wishing to be shaved, the village barber was called in. While the poor fellow strapped his razor and passed it industriously over the great Emperor's chin, he remained silent and seemingly melancholy, although performing his work with amazing rapidity and smoothness. When he had finished, Napoleon complimented him, remarking, "But, man, why do you wear such a melancholy face? You should be happy to have the privilege of shaving an Emperor."

"I am doubly happy, your Majesty."

"Then what is it that troubles you?"

"Alas, your Majesty, when I think of the Kings upon Kings and Emperors that have died without knowing what it was to be shaved by me, I am sad and melancholy."

"What did Washington mean when just, before the battle of Trenton he said, 'Put none but Americans on guard to-night?'" asked an Irishman, who was heatedly defending the valor of the Celtic race in general. "I'll tell you what he meant! He meant, 'Let the Irish sleep; I've work for them to-morrow.'"

BOBBY. "Mamma, I want you to crack me open."

MAMMA. "Why, my boy, what's the matter with you?"

BOBBY. "Papa said I was a bad egg. I don't believe it."

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, July 30, 1895, by Various