CHAPTER XXXIV.

COASTING FIVE MILES IN FIVE MINUTES.

In spite of their faintness and weakness from hunger and exhaustion, Phil and Serge were so stimulated by the emergency that within half an hour they had dug a cavity in the great drift sufficiently large to hold the three dogs as well as themselves. The excavation was driven straight for a few feet, and then turned to one side, where it was so enlarged that they could either lie down or sit up. Into this diminutive chamber they dragged their robes and sleeping-bags. The shivering dogs crept in and curled up at their feet. The sledge was left outside, and the opening was closed as well as might be by the slab of compacted snow that had been cut from it. Poor little Nel-te, who was numbed and whimpering with cold and hunger, was rubbed into a glow, comforted and petted, until at length he fell asleep, nestled between the lads, and then they found time to talk over their situation. For a while they had no thought save for the dear friend and trusty comrade, who, alive or dead, was still out in that terrible storm, and, as they believed, lost to them forever.

"I don't suppose there is the faintest hope of ever seeing him again," said Phil. "If he went over the precipice he must have been killed, and is buried deep in the snow by this time. Even if he did not, and is still wandering somewhere in this vicinity, he must perish before morning. Oh, Serge, can't we do anything for him? It makes me feel like a cowardly traitor to be sitting here in comfort while the dear old chap may be close at hand, and perishing for want of our help. And it is my fault, too! The fault of my inexcusable carelessness. It seems, old man, as if I should go crazy with thinking of it."

"But you mustn't think of it in that way, Phil," answered Serge, soothingly. "As leader of the party it was your duty to go ahead and pick out the road, while it was ours to keep you in sight. If either of us is to blame for what has happened, I am the one. I should have looked back oftener and made sure that he was still close behind me. Now there is nothing we can do except wait for daylight and the end of the storm. We have our parents, this child, and ourselves to think of first. Nor could we accomplish anything even if we tried. The storm has doubled in fury since we halted. A foot of snow must already have fallen, and to venture a single rod outside of this place would serve to lose us as certainly as though we went a mile. We mustn't give up all hope, though. Mr. Coombs is very strong, and well used to exposure. Of course, if he has gone over the precipice there is little chance that we shall ever see him again; but if he escaped it, and has made a burrow for himself like this one, he will pull through all right, and I feel sure we shall find him in the morning."

"Why haven't we dug places like this before?" asked Phil. "It is actually getting warm and comfortable in here. We might have had just such a warm cave every night that we have been in the mountains and spent so miserably."

"Of course we might," agreed Serge, "and we would have had, but for my stupidity in not thinking of it sooner. While I never took refuge in one before, I have often heard of them, and ought to have remembered. I didn't, though, until this storm struck us, and I knew that without shelter we must certainly perish."

"If you hadn't thought of a snow-burrow," said Phil, "it is certain I never should. It is snug, though, and if only poor Jalap were with us, and we had food and a light of some kind, I wouldn't ask for a better shelter. I can understand now how an Eskimo stone lamp, with seal oil for fuel, and a wick of moss, can give out all the heat that is needed in one of their snow huts, and I only wish we had brought one with us."

After this the boys grew drowsy, their conversation slackened, and soon all their troubles were forgotten in sleep. Outside through the long hours the gale roared and shrieked with impotent rage at their escape from its clutches. It hurled its snow legions against their place of refuge until it was deep buried, and then in a frenzy tore away and scattered the drifted accumulation, until it could once more beat directly upon their slender wall of defence. But its wiles and its furious attacks were alike in vain, and at length its fierce ravings sank into whispers. The _poorga_ spent its force with the darkness, and at daylight had swept on to inland fields, leaving only an added burden of millions of tons of snow to mark its passage across the mountains.

When the boys awoke a soft white light was filtering through one side of their spotless chamber, and they knew that day had come. They expected to dig their way to the outer air through a great mass of snow, and were agreeably surprised to find only a small drift against the doorway. As they emerged from it they were for a few minutes blinded by the marvellous brilliancy of their sunlit surroundings. Gradually becoming accustomed to the intense light, they gazed eagerly about for some sign of their missing comrade, but there was none. They followed back for a mile over the way they had come the evening before, shouting and firing their guns, but without avail.

No answering shout came back to their straining ears, and there was nothing to indicate the tale of the lost man. Sadly and soberly the lads retraced their steps, and prepared to resume their journey. To remain longer in that place meant starvation and death. To save themselves they must push on.

They shuddered at the precipice they had escaped, and over which they feared their comrade had plunged. At its foot lay a valley, which, though it trended westward, and so away from their course, Phil determined to follow; for, far below their lofty perch, and still miles away from where they stood, it held the dark mass he had seen the night before, and knew to be timber. Besides, his sole desire at that moment was to escape from those awful heights and reach the coast at some point; he hardly cared whether it were inhabited or not.

So the sledge was dug from its bed of snow and reloaded: the dogs were harnessed. Poor little Nel-te, crying with hunger, was slipped into his fur travelling-bag, and a start was made to search for some point of descent. At length they found a place where the slope reached to the very top of the cliff, but so sharply that it was like the roof of a house several miles in length.

"I hate the looks of it," said Phil, "but as there doesn't seem to be any other way, I suppose we've got to try it. I should say that for at least three miles it was as steep as the steepest part of a toboggan slide, though, and I'm pretty certain we sha'n't care to try it more than once."

"I guess we can do it all right," replied Serge, "but there's only one way, and that is to sit on a snow-shoe and slide. We couldn't keep on our feet a single second."

They lifted Nel-te, fur bag and all, from the sledge, tightened the lashings of its load, which included the guns and extra snow-shoes, and started it over the verge. It flashed down the declivity like a rocket, and the last they saw of it it was rolling over and over.

"Looks cheerful, doesn't it?" said Phil, firmly. "Now I'll go; then do you start the dogs down, and come yourself as quick as you please."

Thus saying, the plucky lad seated himself on a snow-shoe, took Nel-te, still in the fur bag, in his lap, and launched himself over the edge of the cliff. For a moment the sensation, which was that of falling from a great height, was sickening, and a thick mist seemed to obscure his vision.

Then it cleared away, and was followed by a feeling of the wildest exhilaration as he heard the whistling backward rush of air, and realized the tremendous speed at which he was whizzing through space. Ere it seemed possible that he could have gone half-way to the timber-line trees began to fly past him, and he knew that the worst was over. In another minute he was floundering in a drift of soft snow, into which he had plunged up to his neck, and the perilous feat was successfully accomplished.

Poor Serge arrived at the same point shortly afterwards, head first, and dove out of sight in the drift; but fortunately Phil was in a position to extricate him before he smothered. The dogs appeared a moment later, with somewhat less velocity, but badly demoralized, and evidently feeling that they had been sadly ill-treated by their driver. So the sledge party had safely descended in five minutes a distance equal to that which they had spent half a day and infinite toil in ascending on the other side of the mountains.

When Nel-te was released from the fur bag and set on his feet he was as calm and self-possessed as though nothing out of the usual had happened, and immediately demanded something to eat.

After a long search they discovered the sledge, with only one rail broken and its load intact.

"Now for a fire and breakfast!" cried Phil, heading towards the timber, as soon as the original order of things was restored. "After that we will make one more effort to find some trace of poor Jalap, though I don't believe there is the slightest chance of success."

They entered the forest of wide-spreading but stunted evergreens, and Phil, axe in hand, was vigorously attacking a dead spruce, when an exclamation from his companion caused him to pause in his labor and look around. "What can that be?" asked Serge, pointing to a thick hemlock that stood but a few yards from them. The lower end of its drooping branches were deep buried in snow, but such part as was still visible was in a strange state of agitation.

"It must be a bear," replied Phil, dropping his axe and springing to the sledge for his rifle. "His winter den is there, and we have disturbed him. Get out your gun--quick! We can't afford to lose him. Meat's too scarce in camp just now." Even as he spoke, and before the guns could be taken from their moose-skin cases, the motion of the branches increased, then came a violent upheaval of the snow that weighted them down, and the boys caught a glimpse of some huge shaggy animal issuing from the powdered whiteness.

"Hurry!" cried Phil. "No, look out! We're too late! What? Great Scott! It can't be. Yes, it is! Hurrah! Glory, hallelujah! I knew he'd pull through all right, and I believe I'm the very happiest fellow in all the world at this minute."

"Mebbe you be, son," remarked Jalap Coombs, "and then again mebbe there's others as is equally joyful. As my old friend Kite Roberson useter say, 'A receiver's as good as a thief,' and I sartainly received a heap of pleasure through hearing you holler jest now."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

Late in the eighteenth century the village of Cooperstown lay almost in the midst of the primeval forest, which extended for miles around. Here the future novelist James Fenimore Cooper had been brought while yet an infant by his father, who had built the family mansion, Otsego Hall, in this secluded spot, far from the highways of travel, designing to make it the centre of a settlement of some note, if possible. Here, as the boy grew older, he learned wood-lore as the young Indians learned it, face to face with the divinity of the forest. He knew the language of the wild animals, and could distinguish their calls far across the gloomy spaces of the wood; he could follow the deer and bear to their retreats in dim secluded recesses; he could trace the path of the retreating wolf by the broken cobwebs glistening in the early sunlight; and the cry of the panther to its mate high overhead in the interlacing boughs of the pines and hemlocks was of a speech as familiar as his own tongue. When he was thirsty he made a hunter's cup of glossy leaves and drank in true Indian fashion; when fatigued, he could lie down and rest with that feeling of security that only comes to the forest-bred; when thoughtful, he could learn from the lap of the waves against the shore, the murmur of leaves, and the rustle of wings those lessons which Nature teaches in her quiet moods.

These experiences and impressions sank into Cooper's heart, and were relived again long after in the pages of his romances with such vividness that they are plainly seen to be real memories.

Leaving his home while still a young boy, Cooper went to Albany to study under a private tutor, and in 1803 entered Yale College, which, owing to some trouble with the authorities, he left in the third year of his course. It was now decided that he should enter the navy, and he left New York in the autumn of 1806, being then in his fifteenth year, on a vessel of the merchant marine. There was then no Naval Academy in America, and a boy could only fit himself for entering the navy before the mast; his ship, the _Sterling_, visiting Portugal and Spain, carrying cargoes from port to port, and taking life in a leisurely manner that belonged to the merchant sailing-vessels of that day. It was a time of interest to all seamen, and Cooper's mind was keenly alive to the new life around him. The English were expecting a French invasion, and the channel was full of ships of war, while every port on the southern coast was arming for defence. The Mediterranean was yet subject to incursions of the Barbary pirates, who would descend under cover of night upon any unprotected merchant-vessel, steal the cargo, scuttle the ship, and carry away the crew to be sold as slaves to the Tripolitan and Algerian husbandmen, whose orchards of dates were cultivated by many a white person from across the Atlantic, held there in cruel slavery.

The waters of the Mediterranean were full of merchant-men of all nations. Here, side by side, could be seen the Italian, French, and English sailor, while the flags of Russia, Turkey, Egypt, and Greece dotted the farther horizon.

Cooper passed through all these stirring scenes, known to those around him only as a boy before the mast, but in reality the clever student and observer of men and events. His work was hard and dangerous; he was never admitted to the cabin, though an equal, socially, to the officers of the ship; in storm or wind or other danger his place was on the deck among the rough sailors, who were his only companions during the voyage. But this training developed the good material that was in him, and when, in 1808, he received his commission as midshipman, he entered the service better equipped for his duties perhaps than many a graduate of Annapolis to-day.

Cooper remained in the navy three years and a half, seeing no active service. He finally resigned his commission, and passed several succeeding years of his life partly in Westchester County, New York, and partly in Cooperstown, and having no ambition beyond living the quiet life of a country gentleman.

It was not until 1820, when he was in his thirty-first year, that he produced his first book or novel of English life, which showed no talent, and which even his most ardent admirers in after-years could not read through. It was not until the next year, 1821, that a novel appeared from the hand of Cooper which foreshadowed the greatness of his fame, and struck a new note in American literature. American society was at that time alive with the stirring memories of the Revolution. Men and women were still active who could recall the victories of Bunker Hill and Trenton, and who had shared in the disasters of Monmouth and Long Island. It is natural that in choosing a subject for fiction he should turn to the recent struggle for his inspiration, and American literature owes a large debt to him who thus threw into literary form the spirit of those thrilling times.

His first important novel, _The Spy_, was founded upon a story which Cooper had heard many years before, and which had made a profound impression upon him. It was the story of a veritable spy, who had been in the service of one of the Revolutionary leaders, and whose daring and heroic adventures were related to Cooper by the man who had employed him.

Cooper took this old spy for his hero, kept the scene in Westchester, where the man had really performed his wonderful feats, and from these facts wove the most thrilling and vital piece of fiction that had appeared in America.

The novel appeared in December, 1821, and in a few months it was apparent that a new star had risen in the literary skies. The book made Cooper famous both in America and Europe. It was published in England by the same publisher who had brought out Irving's _Sketch-Book_, and it met with a success that spoke highly for its merit, since the story was one telling of English defeat and American triumph. It was put into French by the translator of the Waverley novels, and before long versions appeared in every tongue in Europe. It was regarded not merely as a tale of adventure in a new department of story-telling, but it was generally conceded to be a fine piece of fiction in itself, and its hero, Harvey Birch, won, and has kept for himself, a place hardly second to any creation of literature.

Cooper had now found his sphere, and his best work henceforth was that in which he delineated the features of American history during the struggle for independence. His greatest contributions to literature are found in the short series of novels called "The Leatherstocking Tales," and in his novels of the sea. "The Leatherstocking Tales" consist of five stories, in which the same hero figures from first to last. The series began with the publication of Cooper's second novel, _The Pioneers_, but the story of the hero really begins in the fascinating pages of _The Deerslayer_, where he is represented in the first stage of his career.

The series grew much as Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_ grew, the same man being introduced in different parts of his career, though each separate book did not follow in exact order from the author's hand. The success of _The Pioneers_ was remarkable. Thirty-five hundred copies were sold before noon on the day of publication, and although, perhaps, the least powerful of the "Tales," it was read with the same interest that had been given to _The Spy_.

In the new novel Leatherstocking was first introduced as the philosopher of nature, ignorant of books, but wise in the lore that is taught by the voices of Nature. It is a story of the primitive life of the frontiersmen of that day, and their occupations, interests, and ambitions form the background to the picture of the hero, Leatherstocking, who embodies the author's idea of chivalrous manhood, and whose creation is one of the noblest achievements of fiction.

The scene of _The Pioneers_ was laid in the vicinity of Cooper's boyhood home, and all the exquisite pictures wrought into the setting are vivid and lifelike illustrations of the little frontier village, where man received his sustenance first hand from Nature, and where all his surroundings partook almost of the simplicity of the first ages of the world. It was an appropriate theatre for the actions of that rustic philosopher Leatherstocking, and there is a vein of tender reminiscence through the book that must always give it a charm apart from the rest, though in itself it is the least perfect story of the series.

The story of Leatherstocking begins in _The Deerslayer_, though it was not written until twenty years after the publication of _The Pioneers_. The scene was laid on Otsego Lake, and the character of Leatherstocking was drawn as that of a young scout just entering upon manhood. The next year, 1841, came _The Pathfinder_, having for its background the shores of Lake Ontario, with which Cooper had become familiar during the winter there in the service of the navy.

In these two books Cooper reached the highest point of his art. Leatherstocking appears in _The Deerslayer_ as a young man full of the promise of a noble manhood. And this ideal character is developed through a succession of stirring adventures, the like of which are to be found only in the pages of Scott. Side by side with Leatherstocking stand those pictures of Indian character, which became so famous that the Indian of that day has passed into history as represented by Cooper.

_The Pathfinder_ carries Leatherstocking through some of the most exciting episodes of his adventurous career, and belongs to the same part of his life as _The Last of the Mohicans_, published sixteen years before, the scene of which is laid near Lake Champlain. _The Last of the Mohicans_ takes rank with _The Deerslayer_ and _The Pathfinder_ in representing Cooper at his best. In these three novels we see Leatherstocking as a man in the prime of life battling with the stirring events that were making the history of the country. All the story of the war of the white man with nature, with circumstances, and with his red brother in civilizing the frontier, is told in these books. It is the romance of real history, and Leatherstocking had his prototype in many a brave frontiersman whose deeds were unrecorded, and whose name was never known beyond his own little circle of friends.

In _The Pioneers_ Leatherstocking has become an old man who has sought a home in the forest to avoid the noise and strife of civilized life, and he closes his career in _The Prairie_, a novel of the plains of the great West, whither the old man has gone to spend his last days. It is the story of a lonely life of the prairie-hunter of those days, whose love for solitude has led him far from even the borders of the frontier, and whose dignified death is a fitting ending to his noble and courageous life. It is supposed that this end to Leatherstocking's career was suggested to Cooper by the ever-famous Daniel Boone, and some of the incidents of the story read like real life. One of Cooper's most famous descriptions--that of the prairie on fire--occurs in this book--a scene excelled only by the description of the panther-fight in _The Pioneers_, or the combat between Deerslayer and his foe.

Cooper began his series of sea novels by the publication of _The Pilot_ in 1824, and stands as the creator of this department of fiction. He was the first novelist to bring into fiction the ordinary, every-day life of the sailor afloat, whether employed on a merchant vessel or fighting hand to hand in a naval encounter. Scott's novel, _The Pirate_, had been criticised by Cooper as the evident work of a man who had never been at sea, and to prove how much better an effect could be produced by one familiar with ocean life he began his story, _The Pilot_.

The period of the story is the American Revolution, and the hero was that famous adventurer John Paul Jones, introduced under another name. It was such a new thing to put into fiction the technicalities of ship life, to describe the details of an evolution in a naval battle, and to throw in as background the vast and varying panorama of sea and sky, that Cooper, familiar as he was with ocean life, felt some doubt of his success. In order to test his powers, he read one day to an old shipmate that famous account of the passage of the ship through the narrow channel in one of the thrilling chapters of the yet unfinished work. The effect was all that Cooper could desire. The old sailor got into such a fury of excitement that he could not keep his seat, but paced up and down the room while Cooper was reading; in his excitement he was for a moment living over again a stormy scene from his own life; and the novelist laid down the manuscript, well pleased with the result of his experiment. _The Pilot_ met with an instant success both in America and Europe. As it was his first, so it is perhaps his best sea story. In it he put all the freshness of reminiscence, all the haunting memories of ocean life that had followed him since his boyhood days. It was biographical in the same sense as _The Pioneers_, a part of the romance of childhood drafted into the reality of after-life.

_Red Rover_, the next sea story, came out in 1828. Other novelists had begun to write tales of the sea, but they were mere imitations of _The Pilot_. In the _Red Rover_ the genuine adventures of the sailor class were again embodied in the thrilling narrative that Cooper alone knew how to write, and from its first appearance it has always been one of the most popular of the author's works. In these pages occurs that dramatic description of the last sea fight of Red Rover, one of Cooper's finest achievements.

Cooper's popularity abroad was equalled only by that of Scott. His works as soon as published were translated into almost every tongue of Europe, and were sold in Turkey, Prussia, Egypt, and Jerusalem in the language of those countries. It was said by a traveller that the middle classes of Europe had gathered all their knowledge of American history from Cooper's works, and that they had never understood the character of American independence until revealed by this novelist.

PRIZE-STORY COMPETITION.

FIRST-PRIZE STORY.

Betty's Ride: A Tale of the Revolution.--By Henry S. Canby.

The sun was just rising and showering his first rays on the gambrel-roof and solid stone walls of a house surrounded by a magnificent grove of walnuts, and overlooking one of the beautiful valleys so common in southeastern Pennsylvania. Close by the house, and shaded by the same great trees, stood a low building of the most severe type, whose time-stained bricks and timbers green with moss told its age without the aid of the half-obliterated inscription over the door, which read, "Built A. D. 1720." One familiar with the country would have pronounced it without hesitation a Quaker meeting-house, dating back almost to the time of William Penn.

When Ezra Dale had become the leader of the little band of Quakers which gathered here every First Day, he had built the house under the walnut-trees, and had taken his wife Ann and his little daughter Betty to live there. That was in 1770, seven years earlier, and before war had wrought sorrow and desolation throughout the country.

The sun rose higher, and just as his beams touched the broad stone step in front of the house the door opened, and Ann Dale, a sweet-faced woman in the plain Quaker garb, came out, followed by Betty, a little blue-eyed Quakeress of twelve years, with a gleam of spirit in her face which ill became her plain dress.

"Betty," said her mother, as they walked out towards the great horse-block by the road-side, "thee must keep house to-day. Friend Robert has just sent thy father word that the redcoats have not crossed the Brandywine since Third Day last, and thy father and I will ride to Chester to-day, that there may be other than corn-cakes and baron for the friends who come to us after monthly meeting. Mind thee keeps near the house and finishes thy sampler."

"Yes, mother," said Betty; "but will thee not come home early? I shall miss thee sadly."

Just then Ezra appeared, wearing his collarless Quaker coat, and leading a horse saddled with a great pillion, into which Ann laboriously climbed after her husband, and with a final warning and "farewell" to Betty, clasped him tightly around the waist lest she should be jolted off as they jogged down the rough and winding lane into the broad Chester highway.

Friend Ann had many reasons for fearing to leave Betty alone for a whole day, and she looked back anxiously at her waving "farewell" with her little bonnet.

It was a troublous time.

The Revolution was at its height, and the British, who had a short time before disembarked their army near Elkton, Maryland, were now encamped near White Clay Creek, while Washington occupied the country bordering on the Brandywine. His force, however, was small compared to the extent of the country to be guarded, and bands of the British sometimes crossed the Brandywine and foraged in the fertile counties of Delaware and Chester. As Betty's father, although a Quaker and a non-combatant, was known to be a patriot, he had to suffer the fortunes of war with his neighbors.

Thus it was with many forebodings that Betty's mother watched the slight figure under the spreading branches of a great chestnut, which seemed to rustle its innumerable leaves as if to promise protection to the little maid. However, the sun shone brightly, the swallows chirped as they circled overhead, and nothing seemed farther off than battle and bloodshed.

Betty skipped merrily into the house, and snatching up some broken corn-cake left from the morning meal, ran lightly out to the paddock where Daisy was kept, her own horse, which she had helped to raise from a colt.

"Come thee here, Daisy," she said, as she seated herself on the top rail of the mossy snake fence. "Come thee here, and thee shall have some of thy mistress's corn-cake. Ah! I thought thee would like it. Now go and eat all thee can of this good grass, for if the wicked redcoats come again, thee will not have another chance, I can tell thee."

Daisy whinnied and trotted off, while Betty, feeding the few chickens (sadly reduced in numbers by numerous raids), returned to the house, and getting her sampler, sat down under a walnut-tree to sew on the stint which her mother had given her.

All was quiet save the chattering of the squirrels overhead and the drowsy hum of the bees, when from around the curve in the road she heard a shot; then another nearer, and then a voice shouting commands, and the thud of hoof-beats farther down the valley. She jumped up with a startled cry: "The redcoats! The redcoats! Oh, what shall I do!"

Just then the foremost of a scattered band of soldiers, their buff and blue uniforms and ill-assorted arms showing them to be Americans, appeared in full flight around the curve in the road, and springing over the fence, dashed across the pasture straight for the meeting-house. Through the broad gateway they poured, and forcing open the door of the meeting-house, rushed within and began to barricade the windows.

Their leader paused while his men passed in, and seeing Betty, came quickly towards her.

"What do you here, child?" he said, hurriedly. "Go quickly, before the British reach us, and tell your father that, Quaker or no Quaker, he shall ride to Washington, on the Brandywine, and tell him that we, but one hundred men, are besieged by three hundred British cavalry in Chichester meeting-house, with but little powder left. Tell him to make all haste to us."

Turning, he hastened into the meeting-house, now converted into a fort, and as the doors closed behind him Betty saw a black muzzle protruding from every window.

With trembling fingers the little maid picked up her sampler, and as the thud of horses' hoofs grew louder and louder, she ran fearfully into the house, locked and bolted the massive door, and then flying up the broad stairs, she seated herself in a little window overlooking the meeting-house yard. She had gone into the house none too soon. Up the road, with their red coats gleaming and their harness jangling, was sweeping a detachment of British cavalry, never stopping until they reached the meeting-house--and then it was too late.

A sheet of flame shot out from the wall before them, and half a dozen troopers fell lifeless to the ground, and half a dozen riderless horses galloped wildly down the road. The leader shouted a sharp command, and the whole troop retreated in confusion.

Betty drew back shuddering, and when she brought herself to look again the troopers had dismounted, had surrounded the meeting-house, and were pouring volley after volley at its doors and windows. Then for the first time Betty thought of the officer's message, and remembered that the safety of the Americans depended upon her alone, for her father was away, no neighbor within reach, and without powder she knew they could not resist long.

Could she save them? All her stern Quaker blood rose at the thought, and stealing softly to the paddock behind the barn, she saddled Daisy and led her through the bars into the wood road, which opened into the highway just around the bend. Could she but pass the pickets without discovery there would be little danger of pursuit; then there would be only the long ride of eight miles ahead of her.

Just before the narrow wood road joined the broader highway Betty mounted Daisy by means of a convenient stump, and starting off at a gallop, had just turned the corner when a voice shouted "Halt!" and a shot whistled past her head. Betty screamed with terror, and bending over, brought down her riding-whip with all her strength upon Daisy, then, turning for a moment, saw three troopers hurriedly mounting.

Her heart sank within her, but, beginning to feel the excitement of the chase, she leaned over and patting Daisy on the neck, encouraged her to do her best. Onward they sped. Betty, her curly hair streaming in the wind, the color now mounting to, now retreating from her cheeks, led by five hundred yards.

But Daisy had not been used for weeks, and already felt the unusual strain. Now they thundered over Naaman's Creek, now over Concord, with the nearest pursuer only four hundred yards behind; and now they raced beside the clear waters of Beaver Brook, and as Betty dashed through its shallow ford, the thud of horse's hoofs seemed just over her shoulder.

Betty, at first sure of success, now knew that unless in some way she could throw her pursuers off her track she was surely lost. Just then she saw ahead of her a fork in the road, the lower branch leading to the Brandywine, the upper to the Birmingham Meeting-house. Could she but get the troopers on the upper road while she took the lower, she would be safe; and, as if in answer to her wish, there flashed across her mind the remembrance of the old cross-road which, long disused, and with its entrance hidden by drooping boughs, led from a point in the upper road just out of sight of the fork down across the lower, and through the valley of the Brandywine. Could she gain this road unseen she still might reach Washington.

Urging Daisy forward, she broke just in time through the dense growth which hid the entrance, and sat trembling, hidden behind a dense growth of tangled vines, while she heard the troopers thunder by. Then, riding through the rustling woods, she came at last into the open, and saw spread out beneath her the beautiful valley of the Brandywine, dotted with the white tents of the Continental army.

Starting off at a gallop, she dashed around a bend in the road into the midst of a group of officers riding slowly up from the valley.

"Stop, little maiden, before you run us down," said one, who seemed to be in command. "Where are you going in such hot haste?"

"Oh, sir," said Betty, reining in Daisy, "can thee tell me where I can find General Washington?"

"Yes, little Quakeress," said the officer who had first spoken to her; "I am he. What do you wish?"

Betty, too exhausted to be surprised, poured forth her story in a few broken sentences, and (hearing as if in a dream the hasty commands for the rescue of the soldiers in Chichester Meeting-house) fell forward in her saddle, and, for the first time in her life, fainted, worn out by her noble ride.

A few days later, when recovering from the shock of her long and eventful ride, Betty, awaking from a deep sleep, found her mother kneeling beside her little bed, while her father talked with General Washington himself beside the fireplace; and it was the proudest and happiest moment of her life when Washington, coming forward and taking her by the hand, said, "You are the bravest little maid in America, and an honor to your country."

Still the peaceful meeting-house and the gambrel-roofed home stand unchanged, save that their time-beaten timbers and crumbling bricks have taken on a more sombre tinge, and under the broad walnut-tree another little Betty sits and sews.

If you ask it, she will take down the great key from its nail, and swinging back the new doors of the meeting-house, will show you the old worm-eaten ones inside, which, pierced through and through with bullet-holes, once served as a rampart against the enemy. And she will tell you, in the quaint Friend's language, how her great-great-grandmother carried, over a hundred years ago, the news of the danger of her countrymen to Washington, on the Brandywine, and at the risk of her own life saved theirs.

KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS.

IV.--THE FINAL TRIAL.

"Ten Knights, as before, were put by the stone to guard it until the new trial," continued the Story-teller. "The Archbishop was not going, through lack of care, to have it said that anything had been done to the stone meanwhile to make it harder for the contestants to pull forth the sword, or easier for Arthur to perform that feat."

"I'll bet those Knights practised on it, though," said Jack. "I would have."

"It wouldn't have done any good, I imagine," said his father. "There was something mysterious about it all, and whatever that was it worked in favor of Arthur and against all the others."

"I don't believe all ten of 'em together could have pulled it out," Mollie put in. "It was one of those trick swords, like men swallow at circuses, I guess, and I'm certain that Mr. Merlin put it there, and showed Arthur how the trick worked. It had a spring in it, which he could touch with his thumb to make it come out, maybe."

"Maybe so," said her father, "although I doubt it. There were lots of queer things happening in those days that we of to-day would hardly believe if we saw them with our own eyes--things that sound in the telling of them quite like fairy stories."

"Like Merlin being able to tell what was going to happen next week?" suggested Jack.

"Exactly," said the Story-teller. "If anybody claimed to be able to do that now, we'd laugh at him."

"He'd be a great man for a newspaper," said Jack. "If a newspaper had a man like that on it, it could tell the people in advance that such and such an accident was going to happen at such and such a time on such and such a railroad, and then the people wouldn't go on that road at that time, and their lives would be saved."

"That's so," said Mollie. "And if the accident was going to happen because a switchman was asleep, somebody could be sent ahead to wake him up, so that the accident wouldn't happen at all."

"There is no doubt about it," said the Story-teller. "A man like Merlin would be very useful in these days, but his kind is very much like the leviathans and mastodons that lived before the flood. The race has died out, and true prophets are as scarce now as huckleberries in December. But to come back to the story, whether there was a spring in the sword or not, Merlin was undoubtedly responsible for it, and whatever he did, he did it in Arthur's behalf, for when Candlemas day came about again the same thing happened that had happened before. The sword would not budge for any one but Arthur, and a great many people began to be convinced that he was the rightful King. There were enough dissatisfied persons, however, to make one more trial necessary, and the Archbishop, yielding to these, set one more date, that of Easter, for the final contest."

"He had to earn it, didn't he," said Mollie.

"You bet he did," said Jack. "It must have been like our medals at school. You've got to win it six times in succession, once every month, before it's yours for keeps."

"But you know about that rule before you begin," said Mollie. "It's fair enough in school, but it seems to me Arthur won it at the start, and ought to have had it."

"He certainly did win it at the start, under the terms of the contest," said her father. "Still it was just as well, under the circumstances, that there should be no dissatisfaction among those who lost, and as it wasn't at all hard for Arthur to pull the sword out, he couldn't complain. The others had to work a great deal harder than he did, and, in the end, got nothing for their pains."

"I guess the Archbishop kind of liked to see all those people pulling and hauling at it," suggested Jack, with a grin. "It must have been something like a circus for him, anyhow, with all those knights in their fine spangles, and their horses with splendid harness, and all that."

"Very likely," said the Story-teller. "That view of it never occurred to me before. It has always been a matter of wonder to me that the Archbishop made poor Arthur go through the ordeal so many times, but now I begin to understand it. He wanted to be entertained as much as anybody else, and very possibly he ordered so many repetitions of the performances to that end, knowing, of course, that by so doing he could not injure Arthur's chances. Arthur had to be very careful of himself, however, between times. The other Knights were too anxious for the prize to stop at playing tricks on him, and Sir Ector saw to it that wherever he went he had a strong guard about him to keep him from harm. These guards, made up of the most faithful men in his father's service, kept watch over him night and day until Easter, when the final trial came off with no change in the result. Arthur pulled the sword lightly out of the stone, but despite their struggles the others could do nothing with it. Then the people themselves were satisfied. The Knights may not have liked it any better than before, but the people did, and they cheered him to the echo, and said that the question was now settled for once and for all, and offered to slay any man who now dared to say that Arthur was not entitled to the throne. They all knelt before him, and he was knighted by one of the bravest men of the day, and shortly after he was crowned. It was a long trial for him, but he was patient and worthy, and withstood every test, and in the end he got his reward."

"Well, I'm glad of it," said Jack. "The way they made him work for it seems to me to have entitled him to it."

"Papa," said Mollie, after a little thought on the matter, "was this King Arthur any relation to the man Jack-the-Giant-Killer was always sending giant's heads to."

"He was the very same man," replied her father. "Why?"

"I was only thinking," said Mollie, "that if it was the same man, Jack couldn't have tried to pull that sword out, because I'm pretty certain he could have done it."

"Perhaps," said her father, "but that could only have left the question as to the rightful King unsettled."

"I don't think so," cried Jack. "Because then they'd have had to have a match between Arthur and Jack. That would have settled it."

"And who do you think would have won in that event?" asked the Story-teller.

"Well," said Mollie, dubiously, "of course, I don't know, but I'd have stood for Jack."

"I'm with you, then," said the modern Jack. "A boy who could handle giants the way he did wouldn't have had much trouble with a fellow like Arthur."

The rivalry between Worcester and Phillips Andover academies, which has existed ever since the two big schools first met on track and field in the New England Interscholastics, was made even greater by the dual games held at Worcester on the 8th. Andover had felt confident of winning, but a combination of hard luck and a poor and unfamiliar track tended to cause her defeat. As at Hartford, for the Connecticut H.-S.A.A. games on the same day, there was a bad wind blowing up the track which interfered with good time for the sprints, the 100 being done to the exceedingly slow time of 11-1/5 secs. The score of 62 to 50, however, does not by any means show how close the contest was, for first one side was ahead and then the other; so that it was not until the last event of the day had been decided that the Worcester contingent felt certain of their victory. To-day the Andover men are doubtless somewhat consoled by the way their athletes turned the tables on their Worcester rivals at the Interscholastics on the 15th, and the regrets for defeat must be considerably lessened by the conviction that should the Worcester contest be held again, the result would certainly be different. Andover made 25 points at Cambridge, while Worcester Academy scored but 9-2/5.

Where Andover suffered most at Worcester was in the bicycle race and in the 100-yard dash. Manning was fully ten yards ahead of the field in the former event, and it looked as if the dark blue were here sure of six points at least, for Palmer was coming along rapidly behind him, when the leader lost control of his wheel and fell. Palmer rushed up and tumbled almost at the same spot, leaving Forsyth the only Andover man in the race. The latter forged ahead, and by a powerful spurt passed Campbell of Worcester, who was leading. He thought he had won as he shot past the winning post, but he had gone only seven laps, and as he slowed up the three Worcester riders went by him to take all the points at the finish. In the 100 the judges made a bad decision. Every one on the field--excepting those whose province it was to do so--saw Senn of Andover win the race by about a foot. Sargent was announced the victor, however, and for some odd reason Andover made no protest. Perhaps they were too confident of victory. But even if Senn had been awarded the first place (all the other events resulting as they did), the score would still have been in Worcester's favor--59 to 53, so the mistake of the judges was of little consequence, except to Senn as an individual.

Holt of Andover did the best work for the visiting team. He captured the high hurdles in 18-3/5 secs., put the 16-lb. shot 33 ft. 6 in., and threw the 12-lb. hammer 104 ft. 6 in. In the weight events he did not equal his own best records. Laing ran a good race in the half-mile and the mile, leading all the way in both events, and in the latter he was followed home by two of his schoolmates. It is noteworthy that in almost all sports where Andover men enter they are particularly strong in the long-distance runs. The field events were the most exciting for the spectators, because the score was such that all depended on the result of these. Here the Andover men excelled, but on the track, as will readily be seen from the table of results printed in this Department last week, the Worcester athletes were superior. On the whole, the meeting between the two teams was most successful, and Worcester Academy deserves great praise for her victory. She won it by hard work, and deserved every point scored. At the present moment the Worcester schools may justly claim first place in the ranks of track athletic sports; for after the High-School's performance on Holmes Field, on the 15th, it is plain that few scholastic associations could hope to worst them.

On the following Wednesday Andover did better. The nine met the Lawrenceville baseball team on their own grounds and it was theirs. Everybody was surprised; even Andover. Not so much at the victory, perhaps, for P.A. men are always sanguine, but no one anticipated a whitewash. Andover put up the best game of the year, and I have not seen Lawrenceville play worse. Men who had scarcely made any errors during the entire season muffed and fumbled like a lot of novices; and in betweentimes the Andover men pounded the ball, and the crowd helped things along generally by plenty of shouting. Perhaps the crowd and the unfamiliar field had something to do with Lawrenceville's defeat, but it is hard to understand why the Jersey players, who have been batting well all the spring, could not find the ball when they had men on second and third. Possibly Sedgwick can explain this. Sedgwick was a host in himself, and he received such support as has not been given by the Andover players to any pitcher this season. He struck out nine of his opponents and gave only two bases on balls, whereas he was hit safely only six times. Drew, who caught him, played an errorless game; in fact, every man on the team did, with the exception of Harker, who made in the first inning the only misplay for the side.

The hard hitting of the home team would have won the game even if Lawrenceville had shown better field-work. P.A. made twelve hits, including a two-bagger, two three-base hits, and a home run. Greenway led with two singles and a three-bagger, while Barton made a two-bagger and a home run. As for the error-making, Lawrenceville took the lead in that in the fourth inning. Sedgwick got his base on balls, and was thrown out at second; Greenway took first on an error and second on an error; Elliott got to first on balls; Dayton followed him on an error, which let Greenway home; Waddell went to first after being struck by a ball, and after Davis had struck out both Dayton and Elliott scored on an error. Fortunately for Lawrenceville, the inning was closed by Waddell's being thrown out at third.

This is the third consecutive defeat that Lawrenceville has suffered at the hands of Andover in baseball, and never before has the victory of the Massachusetts team been so decided. The only way to account for the Jerseymen's weakness is that they were affected by the long journey, and were probably "rattled" by the Andover crowd. This Lawrenceville nine can do better. A team that can play the University of Pennsylvania 6-8 and Princeton 2-5 ought not to succumb to Andover by 11-0. The following day Lawrenceville met Exeter, but only seven innings were played, as the visitors had to catch a train for home. When play was stopped the score stood 3-3, and there was considerable dissatisfaction on Exeter's part because the last two innings could not be finished. Lawrenceville showed better form than was exhibited at Andover, making only two errors; but Exeter was playing good ball too, and it is an open question now as to which is the better team. Next year more careful arrangements should be made, for the memory of this season's game will always be unsatisfactory.

NEW ENGLAND I.S.A.A. GAMES, HOLMES FIELD, CAMBRIDGE, JUNE 15, 1895.

N.E.I.S.A.A. Event. Record Made by

100-yard dash 10-1/5 sec. F. H. Bigelow, W.H.-S., 1894 220-yard run 22-2/5 " F. H. Bigelow, W.H.-S., 1894 440-yard run 50-3/5 " T. E. Burke, E.H.-S., 1894 Half-mile run 2 m. 6 " S. Wesson, W.A., 1894 Mile run 4 " 34-2/5 " W. T. Laing, P.A., 1894 Mile walk 7 " 36 " P. J. McLaughlin, W.H.-S., '93 120-yard hurdle 17-2/5 " W. W. Hoyt, R.L.S., 1893 220-yard hurdle 27 " A. H. Hine, P.A., 1894 Mile bicycle 2 " 41-3/5 " A. A. Densmore, Hopkinson, '93 Running high jump 5 ft. 7-3/4 in. C. J. Paine, Hopkinson, 1893 Running broad jump 21 " 6 " C. Brewer, Hopkinson, 1890 Pole vault 10 " 6-3/4 " W. W. Hoyt, R.L.S., 1894 Throwing 12-lb. ham'r 125 " R. F. Johnson, B.H.-S., 1894 Putting 16-lb. shot 39 " 3 " M. O'Brien, E.H.-S., 1894

Event. Winner June 15, 1895. Performance.

100-yard dash J. T. Roche, W.H.-S. 10-3/5 sec. 220-yard run J. T. Roche, W.H.-S. 23-2/5 " 440-yard run R. S. Hull, W.H.-S. 53-3/5 " Half-mile run A. Albertson, W.H.-S. 2 m. 5 " Mile run D. T. Sullivan, W.H.-S. 4 " 42-4/5 " Mile walk C. V. Moore, N.H.-S. 7 " 18-3/5 " 120-yard hurdle A. H. Hine, P.A. 18-1/5 " 220-yard hurdle A. H. Hine, P.A. 27-4/5 " Mile bicycle H. Freyberg, W.H.-S. 2 " 40-3/5 " F. Holt, R.L.S. } 5 " 7-1/2 " Running high jump R. Ferguson, E.H.-S. } Running broad jump E. L. Mills, S.H.-S. 20 " 3 " Pole vault B. Johnson, W.A. 10 " 7 " Throwing 12-lb. ham'r M. Sargent, Hopkinson 119 " 4 " Putting 16-lb. shot E. Holt, P.A. 36 " 11-1/2 "

Points made by Schools.

Worcester H.-S. 33 Andover 25 English H.-S. 12-1/2 Worcester Academy 9-2/5 Hopkinson 6 Newton H.-S. 5-1/5 Somerville H.-S. 5 Noble's 4-1/5 Roxbury Latin 3-1/2 Cambridge H. and L. 3 Lynn H.-S. 2-1/5 Chelsea H.-S. 2 Chauncey Hall 1 --- Total 112

Firsts count 5. Seconds 2. Thirds 1.

The championship pennant of the New England I.S.A.A. remains at Worcester. It was carried down there by the High-School athletes last March, and they made their title to it secure on Holmes Field a week ago Saturday by rolling up a score twenty points greater than any Boston school--greater, in fact, than the scores of all the Boston schools put together. Andover had the satisfaction of finishing second, with her old rival, the Worcester Academy, who defeated her the week before, in fourth place. The games were well managed, and, considering the fact that there were 335 entries, the events were run off with commendable promptness. Four records were broken, and a good many others that are up pretty high already were closely approached, as the accompanying table will show. The marks that went were the half-mile, the walk, the bicycle, and the pole vault. Albertson, W.H.-S., has held the record for the 1000-yard run for two years, and his practice at that distance has made him a capable runner for the half. He kept well back in the bunch when the race started, and waited until the very last corner was behind him before he attempted to pull away from his companions. Then he spurted, and passed the three men ahead of him, winning easily a full second under record time.

The biggest alteration of figures, however, was made after Moore of Newton H.-S. had won the mile walk. He was looked upon as a winner at the start, but no one anticipated such an excellent performance as 7 min. 18-3/5 sec. He is as graceful in his work as any man can be in this acrobatic event, and will surely be heard from in years to come if the walk is not abolished from the amateur and collegiate programmes. The probabilities are, however, that in a very few years the walk, like the tug-of-war, will be a back number; but Moore is a good athlete, and he will surely be able to be just as prominent in some other branch of sport. The spectators were almost as deeply interested in Rudischhauser and Williams's contest for last place, as they were in Moore's struggle for first.

A pleasing feature of the bicycle races was the absence of accidents. There was not a single spill, and every man rode for all he was worth. New men took the points; and that is a good thing. Both Freyberg and Druett broke the tape ahead of record time in the second heat, but in the finals they ran four seconds behind. The final heat, although not the fastest, was the most interesting. Six men started, and for the first quarter Freyberg held the lead. Then he was passed by Boardman and Cunningham, who set the pace for a lap, after which the W.H.-S. rider pushed ahead, and left every one behind. The finish spurt was good, but it was evident that every rider was tired from the effects of the trial heats. It would be well next year to follow the plan adopted by the Inter-collegiate Association of having the preliminary heats on the previous day.

None of the field events were particularly interesting, except the pole vault, in which Johnson of Worcester Academy broke Hoyt's record by a quarter of an inch. The high jumpers only reached 5 ft. 7-1/2 in., where Holt, R.L.S., and Ferguson, E.H.-S., tied for first place. Mills of Somerville High came in as an unknown quantity, and took the broad jump with a leap of 20 ft. 3 in. Andover's strong men were Holt and Hine. At the dual games at Worcester, Holt did giant's work, but at the Interscholastics he only took one first, in the shot, defeating O'Brien, whom many had looked upon as a sure winner, and a place with the hammer. Hine's hurdling was most graceful, and both races were exciting. In the high finals the racers kept well abreast for thirty yards; then Hine forged slowly ahead, but was overtaken by Ferguson, whom he beat home by a few feet only. The low hurdles were even more thrilling. Fuller led at the start, but was caught by Hine at the fourth hurdle. Then it was jump and jump for twenty-five or thirty yards; but Hine had better form, and came in several feet ahead. The day was most satisfactory from the point of view of sport, and every performance of the New-Englanders made me wish they might meet the New York school athletes on an open track and a level field. What a contest that would be! No effort should be spared to bring it about, and the only way to do it is to form one large all-embracing Interscholastic Association.

One correspondent urges Hartford as the most suitable place for the meeting. He believes it would be preferable to New Haven for many reasons, one of which is that the Yale field track is only a quarter of a mile around, whereas the track at the Charter Oak Park is a mile in circumference and sixty feet wide. It is a question whether, for the purposes of an Interscholastic meet of this kind, a mile track would be as good as a lesser one. The time made might be faster if the road-bed were in good condition, but the spectators would not enjoy the races so much as if the runners passed the grand stand a number of times; and the men themselves would find greater difficulty in gauging their speed, most of them being accustomed to four or five lap tracks. A better argument in favor of Hartford is that three railroads centre there.

Of the school athletes who took part in the New York A.C. games at Travers Island, several secured places. Baltazzi won first in the high jump, clearing 5 ft. 10-1/4 in. Fisher went into the 100 and the 220, but was distanced, and Powell got a tumble in the bicycle race. Whether it was his own fault, I cannot say; but there are very few races he has ridden in this year where he has been able to keep in his saddle all the way around the course. He retained his seat in the Interscholastics and won. W. T. Laing came down from Andover, and entered the mile with Conneff and Orton. He had 40 yards handicap, and came in second, with Orton behind him. Orton, however, was pretty well fagged out from the effects of his half-mile race with Walsh. F. W. Phillips, of Bryant and Stratton's, had a handicap of 6 inches in the pole vault, and by making an actual leap of 10 ft. 3 in., secured first, over Baxter at scratch, who cleared 10 ft. 6 in.

Some creditable performances were made at the field meeting of the Pittsburg Interscholastic A.A., which was held at the Pittsburg Athletic Club Park last week. Only four schools were represented, but the crowd was enthusiastic and the events well managed. Graff, of Shadyside Academy, did the best all-round work. He won the 100 in 10-2/5 sec., and the 220 in 24 sec., besides taking first in the hop, step, and jump (another of those acrobatic events which have been handed down from the Dark Ages), and third in the shot. If the Pittsburg H.-S. athletes had been better trained they would have made a more creditable showing, for there is good material there. As it was, they managed to score 21 points out of a possible 135. Shadyside Academy, the winner, got 51, and was followed by the Park Institute with 44. Allegheny, the tail-ender, scored 19 points.

The championship of the Southern Connecticut Baseball League went to the Black Hall School again this year. The final game was played on June 1st, against the Norwich Free Academy. The Black Hall team suffered only one defeat out of the six games of the series--a very creditable performance, considering the numerical size and athletic strength of the other schools in the League. Their success was due to the steady work of the battery, their strong batting, and careful base-running.

THE GRADUATE.

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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 continues from the point, Tarrytown, reached on map published in No. 810 of the ROUND TABLE, to Poughkeepsie, a ride of over forty miles, which would be another and second stage on the route from New York to Albany. All routes of this nature must, of course, be divided by wheelmen reading this Department into sections of a length which is most suitable for their own special purposes. It is perfectly simple, for example, for a good rider to go from New York to Poughkeepsie in one day. On the other hand, for one who is unaccustomed to long distances the route shown on this map, from Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie, is a very good ride. When the series, therefore, covering a distance from New York to Albany is published, by putting the maps together each wheelman may choose how far he will go each day.

Running out of Tarrytown, the rider takes the Albany Post Road and passes the Andre Monument (1), which he should pause to examine. After leaving this monument he will come to St. Paul's Methodist Episcopal Church. Here he should turn to the left and go down a long hill, thence following the turnpike, which is unmistakable, until he reaches Sing Sing, a distance of seven miles. If the wheelman takes time for it, he may turn down to the river, about a mile before reaching Sing Sing, and stop a moment to take a look at the State-prison. From Sing Sing the road to Peekskill is direct; but it is a difficult twelve-mile ride, with hills all along the way, especially just before crossing to Croton Point, again on the Point, and then all the way up to Peekskill. The road itself is sandy, and occasionally covered with loam. The riding is not very good, and the wheelman is wise if he dismounts frequently. After leaving Croton, and when approaching Verplank Point, he can look across the river to Haverstraw, and see Treason Hill, where the meeting between Arnold and Andre took place, and the terms of the surrender of West Point were made. From Peekskill the rider runs out about half a mile to the north, then turns to the left and follows the telegraph poles to Garrison's. Immediately after crossing the bridges, on going out of Peekskill, he will notice on the left the State Camp (4). The road is sandy, and there are some bad hills over these eight miles.

If the rider has time to stop for a look at historic places, he should turn to the left after leaving the Peekskill encampment-grounds and run down to Highland Station, from whence he can see across the river the site of old Forts Clinton and Montgomery (5 and 6). Keeping on this road and running up to Garrison's along the shore, he will pass Beverly House, Arnold's old headquarters (7). At Garrison's is the old Phillipse Manor, and directly across the river is the United States Military Academy of West Point. The best road from this point to Wappinger's Falls is to follow the black route on the map, keeping to the right beyond Garrison's, and running on through Fishkill to Wappinger's Falls, a distance of eighteen miles.

It is possible, however, to keep to the left just beyond Garrison's, and following the fair bicycle route, keep to the shore of the Hudson. The road, however, is much more hilly through these highlands. By taking this route the wheelman may cross the ferry at Fishkill village to Newburg, where he may see the Washington headquarters (10), and Knox's headquarters and winter camp (11) just outside Newburg. On the road from Fishkill-on-the-Hudson to Fishkill itself he will pass the State Hospital for the Insane (12). The road from Wappinger's Falls into Poughkeepsie, a distance of eight and a quarter miles, is moderately good. The roads are easy riding, and the grades are not bad. The rider should turn to the right on leaving Wappinger's Falls, cross Wappinger's Creek, and take South Avenue direct into Poughkeepsie. On the way he passes at the right of the Gallaudet Home for Deaf-Mutes (13), and if he cares to, after reaching Poughkeepsie, he may struggle up the Poughkeepsie Hills to take a look at Vassar College (14).

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.

* * * * *

A CITY BOY'S CONCLUSION.

The cricket 'neath the old rail fence His song forever toots. And sounds as if he's breaking in A brand-new pair of boots.

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.

Among the accomplishments which girls may cultivate to advantage none surpasses that of reading aloud to the satisfaction of others. It is singular that more of us do not acquire this delightful art. I do not mean that we should become elocutionists, or study to be proficient in dramatic effects; I simply advise girls who wish to give pleasure to their families and friends to practise the art of reading intelligently, in a clear and distinct voice, pronouncing their words plainly, giving each sentence its full meaning, and being careful not to drop the voice too suddenly at the end of a paragraph. It is so natural to let the voice fall too much and too far at the close of a paragraph, that those who wish to be heard make a point of learning how to use the rising inflection--not to the degree which implies interrogation, but, so to speak, leaving off with tones on the level, so that the voice carries well across the room.

During vacation you will have opportunities to exercise this gift if you possess it. Half a dozen girls may enjoy the same story if one reads aloud while the rest work. The dear auntie whose sight is failing, and who is bidden by the doctor to rest her eyes, will be very much obliged to you if you will read to her an hour or more a day at intervals, as she and you may find convenient.

I have found in my own experience that when I am reading with a view to remembering a poem or essay or chapter of history, it is fixed upon my mind more readily than otherwise if I read the passage aloud to myself. Hearing as well as seeing the words, two senses aid in carrying the message to the brain. I like to read poetry aloud when I am alone, thus doubly enjoying its music and its feeling.

As every bright young woman should be informed about current events, my girl friends hardly need the reminder to read the daily papers. In doing this, read according to system. You will be able to secure better results if you have a plan than if you scan the journal taken in your home in a slip-shod, heedless way.

Every newspaper has its summary of contents, in which the news of that day and paper are condensed and presented in a compact form. Read this first. Select from this what you most wish to read--the foreign letters, the society gossip, the political leaders, the description of a prominent personage. Whatever you read, read with your whole attention, and learn how to skip a great many things which, while coming under the head of news, are not important to you. Reports of crime, for example, must be published, but you and I can very well omit reading them.

Somebody in the house, and it may as well be you, dear daughter Jane or Charlotte, should take upon herself to see that the daily papers are not spirited off to line closet-shelves or kindle the kitchen fire before they are a week old. Father often wishes to refer to last Thursday's _Sun_ or _Tribune_, Brother Tom wants another look at yesterday's _Herald_ or the _Weekly Record_ or _Register_, whatever the favorite paper may be. Nothing is more annoying than to search the house over--mother's room, the library, the back parlor, the halls--and discover no trace of the longed-for sheet, which probably has been dissolved into ashes, fluff, and smoke, to save Bridget a little trouble. You might charge yourself with seeing that no paper is ever destroyed until it is a whole week old. Also when a paper contains an item or a story which will probably interest grandmother or Uncle Roger in another town, it is very sweet in you to slip a wrapper around the paper, first marking the column in question, and mail it to the person to whom it will give pleasure. Do not forget the marking. Nobody likes to spend a morning hunting for the reason why a paper has been sent to him.

* * * * *

DON'T WORRY YOURSELF

and don't worry the baby: avoid both unpleasant conditions by giving the child pure, digestible food. Don't use solid preparations. _Infant Health_ is a valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your address to the New York Condensed Milk Company, N. Y.--[_Adv._]

ADVERTISEMENTS.

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.

=50= var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland, 15c.; 6 var. Italy, 1858 to 1862, 5c.; 3 var. Hanover, 5c.; 35 var. C. American, 50c. Agents wanted.

F. W. MILLER, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.

=100= all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.; 40 Spain, 40c.; 6 Tunis, 14c.; 10 U. S. Revenues, 10c. Agts. wtd., 50% com.; '95 list free.

CRITTENDEN & BORGMAN CO., Detroit, Mich.

a Living Picture

of health--because she uses Pond's Extract at her toilet, and appreciates the fact that no substitute can equal it.

Avoid substitutes; accept genuine only, with buff wrapper and yellow label.

POND'S EXTRACT CO., 76 Fifth Ave., New York.

Sick Headache

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TARRANT & CO., Chemists, New York.

The Eight Numbers of the Franklin Square Song Collection contain

1600

of the Choicest Old and New Songs and Hymns in the Wide World.

Fifty Cents per Number in paper; Sixty Cents in substantial Board binding; One Dollar in Cloth. The Eight Numbers also bound in two volumes at $3.00 each. Address Harper & Brothers, New York.

Prize Story Awards.

The Round Table offered a First Prize of $50, a Second of $25, and a Third of $25 for the best original stories written by authors who had not passed their eighteenth birthday. There was no condition about the kind of a story required, but appearance of manuscript, spelling, construction, character, and plot were to be considered. Stories were required to contain not more than two thousand nor fewer than one thousand words. There were a few under five hundred contestants, some of whom were as young as ten, and in one case seven years. Many stories were extremely clever, considering the ages of their authors.

The First Prize is won by a Knight who lives in Delaware. His name is Henry S. Canby, aged sixteen. A Knight, also from a Southern State (South Carolina), won the first prize in the Table's previous story contest. The Second Prize is won by a Lady. She is thirteen, and lives in Minnesota. Her name is Nancy Howe Wood, and the title of her story, which will be published in order, is "An Exciting Game." The story standing third is "Joey's Christmas." It reached us bearing no name of the writer, although it said it was intended for this contest. Owing to this oversight by the author we cannot award it the Third Prize. We will, however, give the author, when found, an extra prize of $10. Will he or she write us? The Third Prize is awarded to the story standing fourth. It is "The Beverly Ghost," by Jennie Mae Blakeslee, aged fifteen, a resident of New Jersey. The Table congratulates the winners.

Stories by the following authors are specially commended, the order of that praise being indicated by the order in which names are printed: Upton B. Sinclair, Jun., Frances Chittenden, Constance F. Wheeler, Edith den Bleyker, Alice E. Dyar, Mande Newbolt, A. D. Parsons, Oliver Bunce Ferris, Agnes Barton, Fanny Fullerton, Joseph B. Ames, Helen H. Hayes, Louis E. Thayer, George Clarkson Hirts, George W. Halliwell, Jun., Janet Ashley, Ray Bailey Stevenson, Edith Eckfield, Gay Hugh Leland, Helen L. Birnie, Virginia Louise De Caskey.

An Old Civil War Veteran.

Living here is the oldest cavalry horse of the civil war. He belongs to Sergeant B. F. Crawford, Company C, Sixteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry, who captured him in Virginia just after his owner had been shot from his back. He was then eight years old. Now he is forty, as black as coal, save for some gray hairs in mane and tail, and still fond of martial music, especially on Decoration day, the local parade of which he always forms a part. Last year he went to the National Encampment of the Grand Army at Pittsburg, but he is too feeble to go to another. "Old Ned" is his name, and he is a universal favorite. His greatest war service was his three days at Gettysburg, where he was in at the beginning and finish, and didn't get a scratch.

HARRY MOORHEAD. NORTH EAST, PA.

Care and Food of Fresh-water Turtles.

Several members ask about the care and food of turtles--really fresh-water tortoises. They should be kept in a tank or vessel, with some sort of an island upon which they may crawl when tired of swimming. The best food for them is fresh animal food--flies, worms, or very tiny live fish. If a live fly is put on the water so that it will kick, the tortoise will come up and get it, as he will not be so apt to do with a dead one. A worm may be dropped in for him once in a while; but as these are sometimes hard to find, he may be fed with bits of meat, raw or cooked. As a rule, tortoises will not eat vegetables or bread, though these will not hurt them. They can go for a long time without food, but it is better to feed them every day.

A Jaunt Up Mount Macedon.

One fine day in December a few girl friends and I thought of walking from Woodend to the top of Mount Macedon and back again. The first part of the road leading to the Mount was smooth, and the shade thrown by the eucalyptus-trees was very pleasant. As we got further on it became rather hot, and we were glad to rest and eat our luncheon in a cool spot about half-way up the Mount. Lilac Walk is a beautiful spot at the top of Mount Macedon, and is so called because wild lilac blooms there in profusion. The trees, which are tall, interlace and form arches, which almost shut out the sun.

The Camel's Hump is the highest peak of Mount Macedon. It was a very steep climb, but we were rewarded for it. We could see around us miles and miles of beautiful country, with here and there a tiny house among the trees. On a fine day you can see Port Phillip Bay, which is over forty miles distant. On our way back we saw a beautiful place thickly covered with ferns, with a tiny stream running through it. We did not feel very tired when we got there, although we had walked fourteen miles. I intend forwarding you next time a brief description of the Hanging Rock near Woodend.

EVELINE WALLACE, R. T. L. TASMA, MORELAND RD., W. COBURG.

What Shall Our Badges Be?

The Founders decided the Order is to have a new badge, to be made in two styles. One is to be of silver, or at least of some material that may be secured at a low price, say ten cents, and the other of gold, or gold and enamel, to cost as much as fifty cents, perhaps; certainly little if any more. A score or more Founders suggested that designs be submitted. Very good. Now where shall we get the designs? Do members wish to give us some? If so, send them in. Draw them in either India or wash, that we may reproduce them.

Here is the top of what is said to be the original King Arthur's Table. It is preserved in the cathedral at Winchester, England. The figure is that of Arthur, and the names are those of the original Knights. It was suggested that the badge be a reproduction of this, but if the entire table-top be employed designs will be so small they cannot be read. Besides, we Americans hardly want to wear badges bearing a figure of royalty, do we? Why not use the rose in the centre--the rose is historic--and vary the inscription around it?

In making designs, be careful to consider the time and nation. One member sends us a design in which appears the fleur-de-lis, which is French, not English. The sword, ancient pattern, the red and white rose, the cross, other than the Latin--all these may be used. Of course we will keep the "K. L. O. R. T." If need be, the words could be spelled out: "Knights: Ladies: Order: Round: Table." Let us have your designs at once. Any who wish may submit them. The two or three best will be published, if made so we can reproduce them. Possibly an artist can select the best features of several and combine them. So send along your ideas.

How to Plan a Gala Evening.

For July or August there are few entertainments more novel and delightful than out-of-door ones. Why not have some in aid of the School Fund? Or they might be partly in aid of the Fund and partly for the benefit of a Chapter. The way to begin is to get together from six to a dozen friends, and then write to us for particulars.

Here is briefly what we shall recommend, but be sure to write, because we can give you more explicit directions than we have space for here. We shall give you titles of some very funny farces and pantomimes, similar to those that college students give as burlesques, and which any company of persons of any age can learn and render with very little trouble and with certain success. We shall also tell you how to build a rustic stage out of doors, to arrange hemlocks or spruces for "scenery," etc. A good way is to charge a fee of twenty-five cents, and give, after the stage entertainment is over, a plate of ice-cream free. You will have plenty of fun--and help a good cause, and perhaps yourselves. Write us, sure.

A Natural History Bit.

There are a great many violets about here, and the ones we have the most of are the swamp violets and the little ones that grow in the fields. The swamp violets are a very light purple with darker lines on the lower petal. There are from two to twenty violets on one plant. They grow in the woods and in wet places. The white violets also grow in the woods. They are very much smaller, and are entirely white except the lower petal, which has purple lines. They are very sweet. I have never seen more than seven or eight violets on one plant.

There are three other kinds that I know of that grow in the woods. One is the yellow violet. It grows in dry places, and there is usually more than one violet on a stem. The leaves also grow on the stem, instead of starting from the roots, as most others do. The flower is a bright yellow, with purple lines on the lower petal. There is the crow's-foot violet, which grows in dry places and is a deep purple; also a little purple violet whose name I do not know. It grows much like the yellow violet, only it is much smaller, and often grows on rocks where there is very little earth.

The violet that grows in the fields is very small, and is oftenest a deep purple, but sometimes the petals are purple and white mottled together.

H. W. S. CONNECTICUT.

A Bit of An Old Fort.

Not very far from Bluffton near Beaufort is situated the island called Paris Island. A friend of my father's owns a part of this, and he says that on it are the remains of old Fort Charles, built by the Huguenots in 1562. Will some one please write to me? I am fourteen. Bluffton is in the very southwestern part of Beaufort County, S. C. The steamer _Alpha_ plies between Bluffton, Beaufort, and Savannah, but she is the slowest steamer in existence.

AUGUST MITTELL. BLUFFTON.

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.

The stamp editor wants to make this column as interesting and as useful as possible to all the boys and girls who collect stamps. Is there any subject on which you would like to have information? Shall we talk about the United States stamps? Or about the great rarities which are so eagerly sought by the advanced collectors that they are willing to pay from $100 to $2500 each for these interesting little bits of paper? Or about the different stamps issued in the Confederate States during the great civil war? Or about the different water-marks, perforations, papers, etc., which will make two stamps which "look just alike" worth in the one case two cents and in the other $50? Or about auctions of rare stamps? Or any other subject? Let us hear from you, boys and girls. This is your column, and it shall be made as interesting as possible. Do you keep the back numbers, so that you can refer to them? If you do, it will be possible to answer fully some questions which are asked frequently by simply referring to some other number in the current volume.

Several collectors ask how to distinguish the provisional stamps used in Peru during the war in 1881-83 between Chili and Peru. Counting all the different types of each stamp, there are over one hundred in all, and their enumeration in the standard stamp catalogues covers three or four pages. Collectors who make a specialty of Peruvian stamps make the number much larger. In general, these stamps are simply the regular Peruvian issue of 1874-79 with different surcharges. The victorious Chilians printed their coat of arms on these stamps--sometimes alone, and at other times the arms and a band in a horseshoe frame, with the words "Union Postal Universal--Peru." The Peruvians used the same horseshoe band as a surcharge, but without the Chilian arms. Another Peruvian surcharge is the triangle with the word "Peru," and above it a character intended to represent the sun. As almost all these surcharges were printed by a hand-stamp, they are easily counterfeited, and collectors should be careful to buy these stamps from responsible dealers only.

GILBERT JACKSON.--There are five varieties of the $5 United States Internal Revenue stamps first issue. The perforated ones are worth from two cents to thirty-five cents each. There are eleven $1 stamps of the same issue, worth from one cent to $2.50 each. Twelve varieties of the fifty-cent stamp, worth from one cent to $1 each.

J. R. P.--The 1875 reprints of 1869 are on very white paper. The 2c. of this issue is worth $3. Many of the 1869 issue show little or nothing of the grille. The Cape of Good Hope are quoted in the catalogue mentioned by you. The drawing enclosed by you is of a German local which has no value. The other stamps are probably revenues, but your description is imperfect.

FRITZ BRANDT.--The United States envelope which you describe is the official service envelope of the Post-office Department. It is a franked, not a stamped, envelope. It is not generally collected.

PHILATUS.

To retain the brilliancy of Ginghams, wash them only in luke warm water, in which a tablespoonful of salt and an equal quantity of Ivory Soap to each gallon of water, have been dissolved. Dry in the shade.

THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI.

You Can't take too much of

It quenches your thirst That's the best of it. Improves your health That's the rest of it.

A 25 cent package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere. Made only by The Chas. E. Hires Co., Phila.

BASE BALL, HOW TO PLAY IT.

A Great Book, contains =all= the rules; also the _secret_ or pitching curved balls, and to bat successfully. Rules for Football and Tennis. Every player should have it. Entirely new and handsomely illustrated. This =Great Book Free= to any one sending us 10 cents to pay postage. =Also= Catalogue Guns, Revolvers, Musical Instruments, Magic Tricks. =All for 10c. Order quick.= For =$1.25= we will send =Our Base Ball Outfit=, consisting of 9 Caps, 9 Belts, 1 Ball, 1 Bat. =BATES SPORTING CO., 100 High St., Boston, Mass.=

Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures in one loading--reloading costs 20c. Ask your dealer for it, or send for free booklet "All About the Kombi."

ALFRED C. KEMPER,

Branches: London, Berlin. 132-134 Lake Street, Chicago

CARD PRINTER =FREE=

Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. YOU can make money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder, Pads and Tweezers. Best Linen Marker; worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE for 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and large catalogue of 1000 Bargains.

R. H. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 Cortlandt St. N.Y. City

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.

=DEAFNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED= by my =INVISIBLE= Tubular Cushions. Have helped more to good =HEAR=ing than all other devices combined. Whispers =HEAR=d. Help ears as glasses do eyes. =F. Hiscox=, 853 B'dway, N.Y. Book of proofs =FREE=

=Horned Toad=, alive, $1.00; horse-hair lariat, Indian make, $3.00; five Indian pottery vessels, $2.00; Navajoe Indian blankets, $3.00: volcanic glass chips, 15c., all prepaid.

C. W. RIGGS, WALLACE, N. M.

NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

* * * * *

By MRS. SANGSTER.

* * * * *

=Little Knights and Ladies.= Verses for Young People. By MARGARET E. SANGSTER, Author of "On the Road Home," etc. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1.25.

Healthful, natural, and just the simple narrative poems and kindly temperate effusions most pleasing to children.--_Philadelphia Press._

The real poetry of child-life.--_Boston Advertiser._

Characterized by womanly feeling--by observation of and sympathy with the child side of domestic life.--_N. Y. Mail and Express._

* * * * *

By W. J. HENDERSON.

* * * * *

=Afloat with the Flag.= By W. J. HENDERSON, Author of "Sea Yarns for Boys," etc. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

A good healthy story, attractively written, full of stirring incident and adventure.--_N. Y. Times._

W. J. Henderson sustains the reputation which he has achieved for meritorious work by his latest juvenile book.... This volume of adventure, battle, heroic endeavor, and thrilling struggle on sea and land is a most captivating story told in the luminous and trenchant style which characterizes this author's work.--_Philadelphia Press._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_For sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the publishers, postage prepaid, on receipt of the price._

A QUESTION OF PEDIGREE.

"Now who is that?" asked a dignified hen; "That chicken in white and gray? She's very well dressed, but from whence did she come? And her family, who are _they_?"

"She never can move in our set, my dear," Said the old hen's friend to her, later; "I've just found out--you'll be shocked to hear-- _She was hatched in an incubator!_"

Patrick, in answer to an advertisement for a coachman, applied for the position. He was one of three applicants, and patiently waited until his turn arrived to offer his services. The gentleman who wanted the coachman loved a joke, and when the first applicant had answered a few of his questions, he finally asked him,

"How near to the edge of a precipice would you undertake to drive my carriage?"

"Your Honor, I'd come within a foot of it."

The same question was put to the second applicant, who replied,

"I'll drive within three inches of it all the way, and never slip a wheel."

Patrick was then asked what he would do. "Faith, your Honor, I'd kape as far away from the idge as possible." Patrick was engaged.

Every boy and girl has doubtless heard of the great composer Handel. Here is a little story told of him and of Dr. Maurice Green, a musician whose compositions were never remarkably fine. It seems he had sent a solo anthem to Handel for his opinion, and Handel invited him to take breakfast, and he would say what he thought of it. After coffee, Green's patience became exhausted, and he said, "Well, sir, what did you think of it?"

"Oh, your anthem! Ah, I did t'ink dat it wanted air."

"Air!" cried Green.

"Yes, air; and so I did hang it out of de vindow," replied Handel.

"James," asked the school-teacher, "what do you do with your odd moments after school?"

"I waits until they adds up into an hour, and then I goes fishin'."

FREDDY (_five years old_). "Boys, keep away from me."

CHORUS. "Why, what's the matter?"

FREDDY. "The teacher said I was sharp to-day, and you might get cut."

MOTHER. "Frank, what is baby crying about?"

FRANK. "I guess because I took his cake and showed him how to eat it."

There is a story going the rounds of the British press about two very distinguished archaeologists--Sir William Wilde and Dr. Donovan. It seems that these two gentlemen made an excursion to the Isles of Arran, where interesting remains of archaeological nature have been found.

They came across a little rough stone building, and both entered into a fierce argument as to the exact century of its erection. Finally each claimed a date, one giving it the sixth century, and the other a later one.

A native who had listened with gaping mouth and ears to the lengthy and learned terms used by the disputants, broke into the conversation with the remark, "Faix, you're both wrong as far as that little buildin' is consarned; it was built just two years ago by Tim Doolan for his jackass."

THE HIGHWAYMAN AND THE TRAVELLER.

A highwayman grim--here's a picture of him-- A traveller once did waylay,

But his pistols were rusted; he fired: they busted.

And the traveller went on his way.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, June 25, 1895, by Various