CHAPTER XXVIII.

ON THE EDGE OF PARADISE VALLEY.

From the springs a four-mile scramble through the woods and up the rocky beds of ancient waterways brought the party to a place where the Nisqually River must be crossed. Here a single giant tree had been felled so as to span the torrent, and its upper surface roughly hewn to a level. A short distance above the rude bridge rose the frowning front of a glacier. Although its ice was mud-stained and honeycombed by countless rivulets that ponied from its upper surface in tiny cascades, it still formed an inspiring spectacle, and one that filled Bonny with wondering admiration, for it was his first glacier.

From an arched ice cavern at its base poured the milk-white river, with a hollow roaring, and such force that fair-sized bowlders were swept down its channel as though they were so many sticks of wood. The whole scene was of such fascinating interest that it very nearly brought poor Bonny to grief.

He had dismounted, and was preparing to follow M. Filbert and Alaric, who had already led their ponies in safety across the narrow bridge. These animals had crossed so readily that he supposed his would do the same, and, as he stepped out on the great log, was paying far more attention to the glacier than to it. Suddenly he was jerked violently backward, pitched headlong down the bank, and barely saved himself from the icy torrent by clutching at a friendly bush. At the same moment his pony, who had no confidence in mountain bridges, dashed into the roaring stream, was instantly swept from his footing, rolled over and over, and borne struggling away toward what seemed certain destruction. By the good fortune that attends all fools, animals as well as human, he managed to escape both drowning and broken bones, and finally regained his feet on a friendly reef that projected into the river a quarter of a mile below the bridge. There he stood trembling, bruised, and dripping when Bonny and one of the Indians, who had hastened down the bank to discover his fate, found him a few minutes later. From that time forth he was the meekest and most docile pony imaginable, suffering himself not only to be led over the log bridge without remonstrance, but wherever else his young master desired.

High above this lovely valley, and close to the line where snow and timber met, M. Filbert called a halt, and ordered the permanent camp to be pitched. Although this point was less than half-way to the top of the mountain, or only 6500 feet above sea-level, the ponies could climb no higher, and, after being unladen, were sent back in charge of the packers into Paradise Valley, where they might fatten on its juicy grasses until needed for the return trip.

From here, then, the ragged slope of ice, snow, and rock that stretched indefinitely upward toward the far-away shining summit must be traversed on foot or not at all. But this was not to be done now nor for days to come, during which the camp just pitched was to be the base of a widespread series of explorations. A few straggling hemlocks, so bent by the ice-laden winds that swept down the mountain-side in winter that they looked like decrepit old men, furnished shelter, fuel, and bedding.

"It beats the sloop away out of sight," remarked Bonny.

"Or Skookum John's," said Alaric.

"Yes, or being chased and starved."

"The best of it all is that up here I seem to amount to something," added Alaric.

This was, after all, the true secret of our lads' content; for, in spite of its novelty, the present situation would quickly have grown wearisome had they not been constantly and happily occupied. Every day that the weather would permit they tramped from early morning until dark over snow-fields and glaciers, sealed cliffs, scrambled down into valleylike meadows set like green jewels in the grim mountain-side, threaded their way amid the fantastic forms of stunted forests, toiled slowly up lofty heights, or slid with the speed of toboggans down gleaming slopes. Each day they gained in agility and daring, and each night they returned to that cheery camp with its light, warmth, and abounding comforts, so healthfully tired and so ravenously hungry that it is no wonder they grew to look upon it as a home and a very pleasant one.

Both lads developed specialties in which they became expert. Alaric's was photography, an art that he had acquired in France, and had practised at intervals for more than a year. As soon as M. Filbert discovered this knowledge on the part of his young interpreter, he entrusted him with the camera, and never had the lad devoted himself to anything with such enthusiasm, as he now did to the capturing of views. His greatest triumph came through hours of tedious and noiseless creeping over a rough icefield that finally placed him within twenty yards of a couple of mountain-goats.

Although the wind was blowing strongly from them to him, the timid creatures were already alarmed, and were sniffing the air suspiciously, when a click of the camera's shutter sent them off like a flash. But the shot had been successful, as was shown by the development of a perfect plate that evening. M. Filbert was jubilant over this feat, which he said had never before been accomplished, and complimented the lad in flattering terms upon the skilful patience that had led to it.

Bonny's specialty lay in the collecting of flowers, to which he had devoted himself assiduously ever since learning that they were what the little Frenchman most desired. Keen-eyed, nimble-footed, and tireless, he discovered and secured many a rare specimen that but for him would have been passed unnoticed.

Thus the leader of the expedition found reason to value the good qualities of his young assistants more highly with each day, and was already planning to have them accompany him on his entire American tour, during which he proposed to ascend at least a dozen more mountains. Bonny was jubilant over the prospect of such a trip, and was now as eager to learn French, in order to qualify himself for it, as he had formerly been scornful of the language.

With all this open-air life and splendid physical exercise the one-time pale-faced and slender Alaric was broadening and developing beyond belief. His cheeks were now a ruddy brown, his eyes were clear, his muscles hard, and his step as springy as that of a mountain-goat. Above everything else in his own estimation he was learning to swing an axe with precision, and could now chop a log in two almost as neatly as Bonny himself.

For all that they were so constantly and agreeably occupied, the boys were possessed of a great and ever-increasing longing to stand on the lofty but still distant summit, with the general aspect of which they had become so familiar during their stay in the timber-line camp. Thus, when one evening M. Filbert decided to make a start toward it on the morrow, they hailed the announcement with joy. One of the Indians was to accompany them as guide, while his fellow was to be left with François to keep camp.

The greater part of the following morning was devoted to making preparations for the climb and what was thought might prove a three days' absence from camp. The hobnails of their walking-boots, worn smooth by friction, were replaced by a fresh set. Alpenstocks were tested until it was certain that each of those to be taken would bear the weight of the heaviest of the party. Provisions were cooked and packs laid out. Each was to carry a canvas-covered blanket sleeping-bag, inside of which would be rolled provisions for three days, a tin plate, and a cup. Each was also provided with a sheath-knife and a supply of matches. Besides these things M. Filbert was to carry a barometer, a thermometer, a compass, and a collecting-case. Alaric was entrusted with the camera and two dozen plates. Bonny's extras were a hatchet and a fifty-foot coil of stout rope; while the Indian was to carry an ice-axe, and pack a burden of fire-wood.

It was nearly noon when, fortified by a hearty lunch, they left their homelike camp, and facing resolutely upward, began a tedious climb over the limitless expanse of snow that they struck within the first hundred yards. The climb of that afternoon was hot, in spite of the snow that crunched beneath their feet, tedious, and only mildly exciting, for all the perils of the ascent were to come on the morrow. Shortly before the sun sank into the sea of cloud that spread in fleecy undulations beneath them, they reached the base of the Cleaver, a gigantic ridge that seemed to bar their further progress. Here, on a small plat of nearly level ground from which they dug away the snow, they made a fire over which to boil water for a pot of tea, ate supper, and prepared to pass the night. They were four thousand feet above timber-line, and two miles higher than the waters of Puget Sound.

As soon as supper was over the entire party crawled into their sleeping-bags for protection against the bitter cold of the night, and for a while the two boys, nestling together, talked in low tones.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

SOLVING A GEOGRAPHICAL CONUNDRUM.

THE LONG-VEXED QUESTION OF THE MOBANGI-MAKUA RIVER.

BY CYRUS C. ADAMS.

If you were to select a bit of the earth's surface to illustrate the slow and painful steps by which geographical knowledge often grows, you could do no better than to point to the Mobangi-Makua River, the largest Congo tributary. No other subordinate river in Africa has ever been the theme of so much mistaken guess-work, or has cost the labor of so many explorers. For many years this was the largest river in the world that was in dispute. Even the name by which it was long known was a blunder. When Schweinfurth asked its name, the natives answered, "Welle." But Welle simply means "river," and is not the name of the stream.

If all African tribes were great travellers, as some of them are, and were gifted, like the Eskimos, with keen geographical instinct, they would save explorers no end of blunders, guess-work, and toil. But often they do not know rivers, lakes, or mountains beyond their own frontiers, and each tribe has its own names, or no names at all, for the geographical aspects around them. When an explorer asked the name of a great lake, the natives shouted, "Nyassa!" which means simply "lake": and so we have the name Lake Nyassa on the maps to-day. Nearly every tribe along the Mobangi-Makua has its own name for the river, which, being disguised as the Kibali, the Makua, the Dua, the Mobangi, and so on, was hard to recognize as one and the same great river under many aliases.

Schweinfurth says it was a thrilling moment when first he stood upon the bank of the "noble river, which rolled its deep dark flood majestically to the west." At a glance he settled one important question. He had heard of the river, and thought it might be a tributary of the Nile. But on that spring day in 1870 he saw its flood drifting into the great unknown to the west. One point was settled. It was not a Nile affluent; and the explorer, listening to all the natives could tell him, studying all our meagre information about water systems to the west, convinced himself that he had discovered the upper part of the Shari River, which pours into Lake Tchad, on the edge of the Sahara Desert. For years most geographers agreed with him, and map-makers traced the supposed course of Schweinfurth's Welle to the edge of the great northern desert.

But when Stanley floated down the Congo in 1877, he saw great rivers entering it from the north. It occurred to him, and to the explorers who followed him, that one of them was probably the lower course of Schweinfurth's Welle. For years this and that river was talked about as the possible outlet of the Welle.

Stanley thought it was very likely identical with the Aruwimi, and he published his hypothesis in his book _The Congo_ in 1885. He had never seen the mighty flood that the Mobangi pours into the Congo, hundreds of miles below the Aruwimi confluence.

Nobody knew, until after Stanley's book was published, that one of the greatest and most modest of explorers, the late Dr. Wilhelm Junker, had already traced the Welle--or the Makua, as he called it--for hundreds of miles, to a point far west of the Aruwimi, proving that it could not possibly be that river. For nearly seven years (1879-86) this man of science lived alone near the upper waters of the mysterious river, studying Nature and Nature's children, eating the food his black friends sold him, including fried ants and other relishes and dainties not known in our cuisine, and wandering through the land with only a cane in his hand, and a few black servants to carry his baggage. At the frontier of a new district he always pitched his camp, sent his presents forward to the chief, made his peaceful purpose known, and asked permission to go on. In all these years he never fired a hostile shot; and late in 1882 he set out down the river to find if it really flowed to Lake Tchad.

But Junker's heart was heavy within him. How could he map the unknown region he was entering? His scientific equipment was worthless. Some instruments had been broken during mouths of incessant travel. Others had been ruined by the humid climate. He had absolutely nothing except a compass to aid in determining his positions. Destitute of scientific outfit he determined to make up for it, as far as he could, by scrupulous care, and the most minute exactitude he could attain in his route survey.

So Dr. Junker trudged along through the grass, that was often higher than his head, compass in hand, counting every step. Every fifteen minutes he stopped and jotted down in his note-book the distance and the mean direction travelled in the preceding quarter of an hour. He noted all the little streams, the names of villages, the hill features, and so on; and at night he drew on his route map, with the greatest care, the journey of the day, and all the data that may be recorded on a map. Geographers still examine with great interest these neat and methodical map sheets. But they did not know, till years after Junker had returned home, that he had achieved, as we shall see, one of the most remarkable geographical feats on record.

Junker kept up this trying routine through all the weeks of his long journey. Compelled at last to turn back, when nearly four hundred miles on his way, by news that the Mahdists might destroy all the collections he had left behind, he computed the latitude and longitude of his farthest point. All the facts for this computation were his note-book records and the known position of his starting-point. When he returned home, he and Dr. Hassenstein, a famous German cartographer, sat down and laboriously dug through Dr. Junker's records again. The result was almost the same that Junker himself had reached.

The time came when Lieutenant Le Marinel, ascending the great river from the Congo, reached Dr. Junker's farthest. With his instruments he fixed the geographical position of this point, and found that it was practically just where Junker and Hassenstein said it was. Junker's determination, made without instruments, at the end of a long journey, was not more than a mile or two out of the way.

Did you ever hear of a steamboat losing its way and getting into the wrong river by mistake? This actually happened on the Congo, and the blunder hastened the day when the world was to know all about the destination of the Makua River. One day, in 1885, Mr. George Grenfell was steaming along on the _Peace_, and thought he was making excellent progress up the Congo. But one thing perplexed him. He could not find Libongo, on the Congo's right bank. He had been there before, and knew where the town ought to be. He began to wonder if he was on the Congo, after all. He discovered that he had passed the first parallel of north latitude, and then he knew that he had ascended, for one hundred miles, a mighty tributary that seemed as large as the Congo itself. It was the Mobangi. Grenfell's mistake was not so absurd as it appears. The Mobangi has a very wide channel, is thickly strewn with islands, like the Congo, and its lower course, for many miles, runs nearly parallel with the greater river. Its mouth had been discovered the year before, but nothing was known of the river.

Grenfell had other work to do just then, and so he lost no time in getting out of the Mobangi; but later in the same year he entered its mouth again, determined to go wherever it led him. His little party on the steamer were in great straits for food one day, and they could not buy provisions. The Mobangi natives had decided that their strange visitors were ghosts, and who ever heard of ghosts needing food? As usual, Grenfell tried argument and persuasion instead of force.

"Look here," he said. "We are men like you. If we do not eat we cannot live. We sleep as you do. We have the same number of fingers and toes that you have. You never saw ghosts who were like you as we are."

It took a good deal of this sort of talk to convince the native mind, but at last the explorer went on his way, with as much food as his boat could carry, leaving friends behind.

Up the Mobangi steamed the _Peace_, over three hundred miles north of the equator, and Grenfell had travelled four hundred miles on the river, when rapids barred the way, and he turned back. It had been an exciting trip, for thousands of natives lined the banks, convinced that the times were out of joint indeed if these remarkable strangers with their puffing smoke boat must needs be inflicted upon them. Near the most northern point attained Grenfell saw houses built in the branches of tall straight-stemmed trees. The houses were forty to fifty feet in the air, and from them dangled rope-ladders reaching to the ground. A strange and animated spectacle was witnessed when these aerial structures came into view; for men, women, and children were clambering up the rope-ladders as fast as their arms and legs could carry them, and taking refuge in the houses. From these points of vantage they assailed the _Peace_ with flights of poisoned arrows, which nobody on board minded a whit, for the party were well protected by the arrow-proof wire netting that shielded the deck. Savage fears were finally allayed, and the refugees sought terra firma again. Everybody welcomed Grenfell as he steamed down the river, and the only trouble was that he could not stay long enough to satisfy the newly made friends, who had been his enemies a little before.

Thus the mystery was gradually clearing up. Even before the news from Grenfell reached Europe, the Belgian geographer Wauters declared that Schweinfurth's Welle must be a Congo tributary, and the Mobangi its lower course. What a shout of protest the French geographers raised! They laughed at the idea, and said it was extremely absurd. The trouble with them was that if Schweinfurth's river was in the Congo basin, it could not belong wholly to France, and so they were determined that its waters should not join the Congo if they could help it. They wanted nearly every foot of the waterway to be traversed before they were willing to surrender. But as soon as Grenfell's great discovery was reported, all other theories melted into air, and Lake Tchad ceased to figure as the outlet of the Makua.

But poor Dr. Junker did not know how grandly he had helped to solve the problem. His letters had reached the outside world, but no letters from home had come to him. Months after Grenfell's ascent of the Mobangi, Junker reached the sea. "I still believe," he said, "that the Makua goes to Lake Tchad." He was told of Grenfell's discovery, and he thought it over for a while before he made reply. Then he simply said: "That settles it. The Makua goes to the Congo."

But several hundred miles of unexplored river still stretched between the points attained by Grenfell and Junker, and it was 1890 before this gap was completely filled by the expeditions of Van Gèle and Le Marinel. Time and again Van Gèle pulled his little steamer through the rapids that had barred Grenfell's advance. One of them will always bear the name of Elephant Rapid, because there the explorer killed an elephant, whose flesh was smoked, and supplied food to forty black helpers for two months. New vistas of Africa opened along the half-mile-wide river above the rapids. Plantations of maize and bananas stretched for miles away. Many villages dotted the hill-sides, posts of observation were seen high up in the branches of lofty cottonwood-trees, and, strange to relate, many women had black hair hanging down their backs in braids, some of which were so very long that they were tied around the arms to keep them from trailing on the ground. European anthropologists rubbed their eyes and read again. But how many stories are spoiled by a little investigation! It was discovered at last that all these tresses were false, and of vegetable origin.

Most of the natives were friendly, and their fleets of thirty or forty canoes, filled with food for sale, often surrounded the steamer; and so, after twenty years of theory, guess-work, discussion, and exploration, the great river was at last revealed, from the mountains near the Nile that gave it birth to the place where it mingles with the Congo.

THE ARMENIAN RELIEF COMMITTEE OF

WASHINGTON SQUARE.

A Comedietta in One Act.

BY EDITH V. BRANDER MATTHEWS.

_Characters:_

MISS SILVIA BROWN, _hostess_. MISS HARRIETT SPAULDING. MISS GRACE DUNLAP. MISS ROSE HALLAM. MISS PAULINE DAVENPORT. MISS CATHERINE CRUGER.

TIME.--_Present._

PLACE.--_Miss_ Silvia Brown'_s home, overlooking Washington Square._

SCENE.--_Parlor. Fireplace in flat centre. Door in right upper corner. Low table to left of fireplace. Six chairs arranged in a semicircle in centre of stage. At rise of curtain_ Silvia _is discovered seated in a big arm-chair to left centre, busy reading._

_Silvia_ (_dropping book in her lap as the curtain rolls up_). Oh, dear! I do wish those girls would come! I begin to feel nervous. (_Fretfully._) I don't see what good we girls can do, anyhow. We can't prevent those hideous old Turks from scratching the eyes out of the poor Armenians. Oh, why did Miss Peabody suggest that we girls of the graduating class of the Peabody School (_mimicking_) should form ourselves into some sort of a society in order to keep up the pleasant friendships begun at school? She might have known Catharine Cruger would want us to undertake some outlandish thing or other. (_Sarcastically._) Of course dear Catharine no sooner returned to town this fall than she reminded us of Miss Peabody's parting injunction, and proposed we should try to relieve the unfortunate Armenians. It will be so easy, so simple. (_Angrily._) To think that I was idiot enough to offer to have the meeting here! But I won't have anything to do with the matter, no noth--

_Rose_ (_entering door right upper corner_). Good-afternoon, dear. I hope I am not late?

_Silvia_ (_shaking hands, but still somewhat ruffled_). Oh no, dear! it's only three-quarters of an hour past the time.

_Rose_ (_serenely_). Oh, I am so glad I am the first, for I haven't had time to look up where Armenia is, so do tell me, dear, before the girls come (_taking off her veil_). I really meant to have been here earlier, but as I passed Madame Jacquin's I saw such a love of a theatre hat I simply couldn't resist going in to try it on.

_Silvia_ (_with interest_). What was it like?

_Rose_. A soft crown of gold-brown velvet, with the cutest little net-work of gold beads, held on with little loops of blue--

_Harriet_ (_appearing in the doorway_). Oh, girls, I have hurried so, and I can't stay but a few minutes, for I promised to meet mamma at Mrs. Draper's in half an hour! It's a musical, you know, and I've simply got to tell Kitty Draper all about the Leap-Year Ball.

_Grace_ (_entering hastily, and out of breath, addressing_ Harriet). I saw you ahead of me and tried to catch up, but you walked like a steam-engine. (_To_ Silvia.) Why, where are the rest?

_Silvia_. I don't know. Pauline promised to be here early, and she is an hour late now.

_Pauline_ (_coming in as_ Silvia _utters the last words, laughingly_). Now do have the grace to say "better late than never."

_Silvia_ (_smiling_). "Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves" would be a more suitable proverb. But are we really all here? (_Looks around._) No, Catharine is missing.

_Grace_ (_mischievously_). Absent would be a better word.

_Rose_. Well, do let's begin. I can't stay more than fifteen minutes. I ought to be trying on my new mousseline de soie this minute. (_Becoming enthusiastic._) Really, Madam Mosset has outdone herself. Why, she has put the dearest, little folds of--

_Harriet_ (_interrupting, wearily_). What are we to do, anyway?

_All_. I don't know.

_Grace_ (_pulling out a letter from her pocket, and reading_). Catharine says we are an Armenian Relief Committee. (_Helplessly._) What do we have to do?

_All_ (_wailingly_). I don't know.

_Grace_. Let Silvia tell us; she's hostess.

_Silvia_ (_despairingly_). I haven't the faintest idea what we can do. Catharine suggested this meeting, and she ought to be here to help us.

_Harriet_ (_gloomily_). If Catharine were here she would make us do just as she pleases. (_With awe._) She has been studying parliamentary law.

_All_ (_much impressed_). No! Really?

_Grace_. Well, suppose we think hard for a few minutes, and then tell our ideas. [_Silence._]

_Pauline_ (_suddenly_). Couldn't we-- No, that wouldn't do.

_Harriet_. Perhaps we might-- No, I'm afraid that wouldn't do, either.

_Rose_. Do they need clothes? We might send them a trunkful or two.

_Silvia_ (_doubtfully_). No, I don't believe they need clothes particularly. (_Then quickly._) I've heard that they suffer horribly from hunger.

_Harriet_. Splendid! Then we can send them some canned soups and potted meats and--

_Pauline_ (_sarcastically_). And lobster salad and fried oysters. No, girls; really, I think if we got our brothers to give us their old guns and bought a few new ones it would be the best thing. My brother said last evening they were unarmed, and couldn't defend themselves.

_Grace_ (_humming to the air of "If you want to know the time, ask a policeman"_). Won't you come and have a Gatling-gun with me?

_Pauline_ (_ruffled_). Well, then, suggest something better yourself; only my brother said--

_Harriet_ (_energetically_). I know one sure thing. I will have nothing to do with any fair. I'll do almost anything else you girls want, but after standing five hours steadily, and only selling four dollars' worth of rubbish last year at the Golden Rule Fair, I made a solemn vow I would scrub before doing such a thing again.

_Silvia_. I quite agree with you, my dear. Fairs are immoral. I've told more lies at my last fair trying to get people to buy things they didn't want than I ever expect to be guilty of again till--(_hesitating_)--till the next one.

_Rose_ (_thoughtfully_). Fairs are tiresome, but a costume fair would be lovely.

_Grace_ (_shaking her head_). No fairs for me. I spent six months for the last one doing drawn-work on twelve doilies, and then Mrs. Miller bought them at twenty-five cents apiece for handkerchiefs for her little girl's doll!

_Pauline_ (_importantly_). Well, my brother says he thinks lotteries and fairs are all on a par, for at the former you lose your dollars, and at the latter you lose your sense.

_All_ (_groaning_). Oh, Pauline!

_Grace_. Well, at least we have settled what we won't do, so let's think up something we can do. Come, Silvia, you suggest something.

_Silvia_. Why can't we give tableaux-vivants, and send the money we get to our ambassador at Constantinople for distribution?

_Rose_. Lovely!

_Pauline_. Splendid!

_Harriet_. Oh, I can't!

_Grace_. Oh yes, let's!

_Harriet_ (_despairingly_). Oh, I'm so sorry! I wish I could join you girls in this, but mamma has forbidden my taking part in tableaux.

_All_. Why?

_Harriet_. Because this summer at Newport Mrs. Miller got up some tableaux in her barn for the benefit of ship-wrecked sailors, and the next day the papers had a full account of it, and fancy pictures of every one, and they represented me, in what looked like a night-gown, posing airily for Maid Marian under a tree.

_Rose_. How shameful!

_Silvia_. Naturally we can't have that; but what can we--

_Catharine_ (_entering_). How do you do, girls? I must apologize for my tardiness, Silvia, but I had to go shopping, and was delayed. (_Seating herself._) Now what have you girls decided on doing?

_All_ (_wofully_). Nothing.

_Catharine_ (_springing up_). Do you mean to say you are going to do nothing? Nothing, when thousands of unfortunate Armenians are being massacred daily, and thousands still are homeless, hungry, and destitute; when--

_Silvia_ (_exasperated_). We didn't say we weren't going to do anything: we simply said we hadn't decided what to do.

[_All try to explain at once._]

_Pauline_. My brother says they need arms--

_Harriet_. Silvia said tableaux; but I can't--

_Grace_. Perhaps if we simply got--

_Rose_. We might give a fancy dress b--

_Catharine_ (_putting her fingers in her ears_). Look here, girls; if we all talk at once, we won't decide on anything. Now I've studied Parliamentary law, and I know we ought to have a chairman and a secretary. Suppose we nominate?

_All_. Oh yes; you be chairman!

_Catharine_. But you must vote. (_Rising._) All those in favor of Miss Cruger serving us as chairman will please say aye.

_All_ (_half paralysed_). Aye!

_Catharine_. It is a unanimous vote, and Miss Cruger is elected. (_Goes over to centre of stage and takes middle chair._) Will you please nominate a secretary?

_Rose_. You be secretary, Harriet.

_Harriet_. No; you be it.

_Rose_. Well, let's have Pauline.

_Pauline_. I can't. I never should know what to do. My brother says--

_Catharine_ (_rapping on back of chair_). The meeting will please come to order.

_Pauline_ (_with a gasp_). I--I only wanted to say--[_Collapses and remains silent._]

_Catharine_ (_impatiently_). Well, are you going to nominate?

_All_ (_except_ Harriet). You be secretary, Harriet.

_Harriet_. I really don't want to be. I--

_Catharine_. Miss Spaulding has been nominated. All those in favor of Miss Spaulding acting as secretary will please say aye.

_All_. Aye!

_Harriet_. But I don't know what to do.

_Catharine_. You're chosen to act. I'll tell you what to do. (_Turning to the others._) The first business to come before this meeting is how and in what way can we help the unfortunate Armenians?

_Rose_. I think it would be better--

_Pauline_. My brother says they can't--

_Catharine_. One at a time, please. Miss Hallam has the floor.

_Rose_ (_nettled_). I was only going to suggest--that is, I thought perhaps it would be as well--(_weakly_)--but I am not at all sure-- [_Subsides._]

_Catharine_ (_severely_). Miss Davenport now has the floor.

_Pauline_ (_bravely_). Well, I simply wanted to say, if the girls agreed, that as my brother says they need arms, it might be a good thing for us to send some guns over; but (_beginning to falter_) I don't know how we could reach the poor things 'way off in Armenia.

_Catharine_. Has any one any further remarks to make? (_Girls sit in crushed silence._) Then I would like to suggest that we give a fair for the benefit of the Armenians.

_Silvia_. I don't like fairs, and I don't believe the other girls do.

_Catharine_. Then why don't you rise to a question of consideration. [Silvia, _nonplussed, remains silent_.]

_Pauline_. Fairs mean hard work, and don't pay; besides, we should have to have it so soon.

_Catharine_. Kindly make your suggestions in the form of an amendment.

_Pauline_ (_not knowing how, and not liking to admit it, hastily_). Oh, it's of no consequence.

_Rose_ (_animatedly_). The only fair I ever enjoyed was during the Columbia celebrations, when we all dressed up as Spanish court ladies, and--

_Catharine_. Please confine yourself to the question at issue.

_Harriet_ } (_timidly_). But we don't want a--

_Grace_ }

_Catharine_. Miss Spaulding has the floor.

_Harriet_ (_in a fright_). Oh no; you speak, Grace.

_Grace_. No, you speak; you began.

_Harriet_. Yes; but you can say it so much better.

_Catharine_. You are both out of order. Private differences of opinion should be settled after the meeting. (_Silence._) Are there any further remarks? (_Slight pause._) If not, I will add to the suggestion that we have a fair, that we six originators act as patronesses, and each secure the help of five of our friends. That we then engage Sherry's ballroom for an afternoon, and give a tea. Useful things only to be sold, such as lamp shades, sofa cushions, and all household necessities--dusters, glass-towels, wash-rags, etc. The admission to be by invitation, and the proceeds to be given to the Clara Barton Fund--

_Girls_ (_interrupting_). Hurrah!

_Catharine_ (_continuing, calmly_). All those in favor of accepting this suggestion will please say aye.

_All_ (_meekly_). Aye!

CURTAIN.

BY GASTON V. DRAKE.

XVII.--FROM BOB TO JACK.

(_Continued from last week._)

After you leave the Bois de Bologne you don't see much until you get to where the Palace of St. Cloud used to be, and even then you don't see much either, because there isn't much left to see. It's had hard luck St. Cloud has. It probably got more licking during the war with Prussia than any other town in France. Everybody took a whack at it. When the Germans weren't having fun with it the French would bombard it, until finally almost every house in it that hadn't already been shaken down, or bowled over with cannon-balls, was burned together with the Palace. It's a nice-looking old ruin though, and Jules says that on Sundays it fairly swarms with babies and lemonade stands. I'd sort of like to see it some Sunday, but Pop thinks Sunday is the best day to look at the churches.

There's another interesting place you pass on the way out to Versailles and that is Sevres where they make bric-a-brac. They make great big vases there that weigh so little you feel as if you ought to put a brick inside 'em to make 'em stay down. Jules was stationed here during the war, and he says it was fine. He could see all the big fires, and all the skirmishes that took place, and everybody had a sort of a notion that sooner or later there'd be a big crash in the bric-a-brac shop and Jules is just a human being like the rest of us. He hated to have the bric-a-brac smashed but if it had to be smashed he wanted to be on hand to see it go. That's me all over again. If I had my choice between seeing a King or a President of the United States, and a bull in a china shop, I think I'd choose the bull. When you think of how he'd toss tea-cups around and lash his tail around pile after pile of dinner plates and soup tureens--well, there's no use trying to describe a sight like that, but it's what Jules was waiting for at Sevres and it never happened. War is full of disappointments anyhow. Pop's uncle went to war once and he says it isn't a bit like the pictures. He says these parlor tableau generals with spick and span clothes on and horses rearing on their hind legs with their ears cocked aren't so, which I don't like to hear and I didn't believe it but Jules says it's true. He says making mud pies is clean alongside of war. I have had more ideas busted since I came over here than I ever thought one person could have. Dukes are plain, Kings are human, and war is not all bands and flags and glory but just grimy scrapping. I'm sure I don't know what to believe in any more.

After a while, after we'd driven through lots of pretty country we entered the town of Versailles, where the great palace is, and I tell you it was magnificent. Most of the Avenues have great trees arching over them, and when I say arching I mean arching because they are all trimmed and not allowed to grow foliaginous--that's one of Aunt Sarah's words--the way we let our trees grow at home. If a giant came walking by he'd think the trees formed a hedge, they grow so thickly together and are kept square cut on the top and arched underneath. They look as if an army of barbers had tended 'em all their lives. I don't think I'd like it always but once in a while it's interesting to see trees growing that way, and if I were a monkey there's nothing I'd like better than it because I could walk mile after mile from tree to tree without having to come down once.

As for the Palace of Versailles the best way to describe it is what Aunt Sarah said. "It baffles description" was what she said and that's what it does. It's so big in the first place that you can't take it in without looking eight or ten times, and when you try to go through it and see all there is to be seen you wish you had a year to spare to do it in. Such pictures, such sculptuary, such bric-a-brac you never saw before unless you'd been there before.

They had 36,000 men working on the Palace grounds at one time. When Pop heard that he nearly fainted. He gave me a sum in mental arithmetic to do. If our hired man can loaf three hours a day, how many hours a minute, can 36,000 hired men loaf. That's a dandy. Eh? Some time when I haven't anything else to do I'm going to work it out.

Once a lady wanted to go sleigh-riding in July out here, and she told the King, and he said all right go ahead, "Where'll I get the snow?" she said. "That's easy," said the King. "You get ready and it'll be all right." Pop says the King thought it would take her until winter to get her hat on straight, but it didn't. She was ready next morning, and he took her sleigh-riding over a road he'd had covered with _salt_. That's the way Kings did things, and that's why they discharged 'em.

We saw the royal carriages too, and they were royal. Gold all over even the wheels--just like the band-wagons at the circus. Some of 'em looked like show-cases, and Aunt Sarah says that's what they were and she's glad that day is gone when people liked that sort of thing and that's where she's wrong because that day hasn't gone. "People like it yet but they hate to pay for it," Pop says, and I guess that's it. That's what's the matter in France. They've got lots of beautiful things, but they've had to pay too much for 'em. This one palace cost a thousand million francs to build it which is two hundred million dollars, and after that they had to furnish it and keep it up, which made taxes so high that nobody had anything left, and when people haven't got anything left they're apt to get a little cross, which is what they did here, only they got cross with the wrong man, cut off the head of a King that didn't have anything to do with it, which strikes me as a poor way to get revenged on his great-grandfather.

It is long past bed-time and I must quit. I've made this letter pretty long because I've sort of hated to go to bed. Jules told me about the guillotine to-day, which is a sort of spile-driver with a knife in it to cut people's heads off, and I'm afraid I'm going to dream about it. Still I can't sit up forever and so good-night.

BOB.

N.Y.I.S.A.A. GAMES: THE 120-YARD HURDLE RACE, FINAL HEAT--SHOWING (1) BIEN AND BEERS EVEN AT THE THIRD OBSTACLE, AND (2) BEERS FALLING AFTER STRIKING THE SEVENTH, BIEN WINNING.

N.Y.I.S.A.A. GAMES: THE START AND FINISH OF THE FINAL HEAT IN THE 100-YARD DASH.

The field-meetings of the New York and Brooklyn Interscholastic leagues were held a week ago Saturday, the former on the Berkeley Oval and the latter at Eastern Park. In many respects the Brooklyn athletes' performances surpassed those of the New-Yorkers, and in point of record-smashing the Long-Islanders were far ahead. Only three New York Interscholastic figures were lowered, whereas in Brooklyn nine out of fourteen were upset.

There was a number of surprises at the New York meeting. The first was Irwin-Martin's defeat by Washburn in the quarter-mile run. Martin started off badly, setting too hot a pace, and took the lead for the first quarter of a lap. Then Hipple and Washburn broke away from the bunch, and when three-quarters of the distance had been covered Washburn forged ahead of the Berkeley man, with Hipple close behind him, leaving Martin in third place. In this way the three raced down the stretch, and crossed the line in that order. This hard race took a good deal of the starch out of Hipple, so that when it came to the half-mile he was not fresh enough to do any record-breaking. He ran well, however, and came close to the mark; Draper of Cutler's ran a beautiful race in this event, leading most of the way, and took second, beating Bedford.

The half-mile tired Bedford for the mile, and Hipple had very little speed and endurance left in him after the gallant work he had already done. Nevertheless, both of these Barnard runners toed the scratch with a large field, and started off pluckily. They staid behind from the start, and it was soon evident that Bedford could do nothing. Turner of Cutler's and Clark of Condon's took the lead, and ran beautifully. Hipple, after trying to urge his schoolmate on for a couple of laps, left Bedford, and worked his way slowly and laboriously to the front. But he could not do anything against the fresh leaders, and deserves great credit for taking the place he did, especially as Turner broke the interscholastic record for the distance. In spite of being the last man, Bedford ran pluckily, and did not leave the cinder path until he had crossed the finish and covered the distance. The quality which led him to do this is called "sand," and if every athlete would follow Bedford's example in the many hopeless races that they are forced to run, and "stick to their colors," it would raise the standard of performance in a great many cases.

Both of the senior sprints went to Moore of Barnard, and both of the junior sprints went to Leech of Cutler's. These two men are very fast. If they had not had to face an unfavorable wind, they would doubtless have made better time; as it is, the performances are not to be ashamed of. Both Moore and Leech had an easy time of it in their heats, outclassing all their opponents. They seemed to be aware of their superiority--too much aware of it, I am afraid, because Moore especially lost a fraction of his speed by continually looking back. This is a very bad habit to get into, and no matter how slow the other men are, there is no excuse for the leading sprinter to look back.

NEW YORK AND LONG ISLAND INTERSCHOLASTIC GAMES.

Event. Records Previous to May 16, 1896. 100-yard dash 10-3/8 sec. 100-yard dash (Jun.) 11 " 220-yard dash 22-4/5 " 220-yard dash (Jun.) 23-4/5 " 440-yard run 52-2/5 " 880-yard run 2 m. 4-1/5 " Mile run 4 " 52 " Mile walk 7 " 30-2/5 " Mile bicycle 2 " 34-2/5 " 120-yard hurdle 15-3/5 " 220-yard hurdle 26-3/5 " High jump 5 ft. 11 in. Broad jump 21 " 5 " Putting 12-lb. shot 40 " 3/4 " Throwing 12-lb. hammer 117 " 5-1/2 " Pole vault 10 " 3/8 "

N. Y. I. S. A. A. Games, Berkeley Oval, May 16, 1896.

Event. Winner. Performance. 100-yard dash R. W. Moore, Barnard. 10-3/5 sec. 100-yard dash (Jun.) D. C. Leech, Cutler's. 11-1/5 " 220-yard dash R. W. Moore, Barnard. 23-1/5 " 220-yard dash (Jun.) D. C. Leech, Cutler's. 25-1/5 " 440-yard run H. L. Washburn, Barnard. 52-2/5 " 880-yard run W. S. Hipple, Barnard. 2 m. 5-4/5 " Mile run [1]W. S. Turner, Cutler's. 4 " 49-3/5 " Mile walk J. R. Walker, Berkeley. 7 " 56-1/5 " Mile bicycle H. M. Ridabock, Barnard. 2 " 48-3/5 " 120-yard hurdle F. Bein, Jun., Berkeley. 15-4/5 " 220-yard hurdle D. G. Harris, Cutler's. 27 " High jump T. R. Pell, Berkeley. 5 ft. 6 in. Broad jump T. R. Pell, Berkeley. 20 " 5 " Putting 12-lb. shot C. W. Young, Berkeley. 39 " 9-1/2 " Throwing 12-lb. hammer [1]C. R. Irwin-Martin, Berkeley. 123 " 5 " Pole vault [1]J. L. Hurlburt, Jun., Berkeley.10 " 7-3/4 "

Long Island I. S. A. A. Games, Eastern Park, Brooklyn, May 16, 1896.

Event. Winner. Performance. 100-yard dash [1]A. W. Robinson, St. Paul's. 10-2/5 sec. 100-yard dash (Jun.) [1]A. W. Robinson, St. Paul's. 10-2/5 " 220-yard dash Ira Richards, Poly. Prep. 23-4/5 " 220-yard dash (Jun.) ----- ----- 440-yard run [1]W. L. Van Wagenen, St. Paul's. 53-3/5 " 880-yard run [1]C. M. Hall, St. Paul's. 2 m. 6 " Mile run [1]P. Christensen, B'klyn High. 4 " 54-4/5 " Mile walk ----- ----- Mile bicycle O. L. Roehr, Poly. Prep. 2 " 40-3/5 " 120-yard hurdle L. S. Herrick, B'klyn H.-S. 16-3/5 " 220-yard hurdle [1]L. S. Herrick, B'klyn H.-S. 29-2/5 " High jump [1]C. L. Duval, B. L. S. 5 ft. 7 in. Broad jump W. Girrash, B'klyn H.-S. 18 " 3 " Putting 12-lb. shot B. P. Kinney, St. Paul's. 41 " 9 " Throwing 12-lb. hammer [1]H. J. Brown, St. Paul's. 123 " 11 " Pole vault [1]J. A. Forney, Adelphi. 9 " 6 "

[1] Record broken.

Walker of Berkeley, as had been anticipated, had it all his own way in the walk, and won easily in excellent form. The real race was for second and third. These places were taken by McCracken of Berkeley and Coffin of Cutler's.

The hurdles furnished some exciting heats. Bien of Berkeley took his trial, and Beers got first in the second heat. Beers ran in faultless style on this occasion, but when he met Bien in the finals he seemed to lose his nerve and to go all to pieces. He scraped most of the obstacles, and after Bien had passed him he stumbled even more clumsily, and took an ugly header on the track. Beers is a very clever man over the high hurdles, but if, as it seems, he becomes affected by the prowess of an opponent, he should strive mightily to overcome this weakness. He has frequently covered the distance in better than Bien's winning time. In the low hurdles Beers met Bien in the trials, and ran second; but in the finals he seemed to go to pieces again, although he managed to keep his feet until the last hurdle, where he fell again, and allowed Harris to win. He recovered himself in time, however, to keep Bien in third place.

Berkeley took every field event, winning all the points in the hammer. Here Irwin-Martin made up for his loss of the quarter by breaking the interscholastic record. Young, who took second, also broke the record, and Galloway, who took third, came within three feet of the mark. Young scored again for his school by taking the shot, and T. R. Pell earned a double win in the jumps.

One of the best performances of the day was Hurlburt's pole-vaulting. He fulfilled every one's expectations, and broke the interscholastic record of 10 ft. 3/8 in. by clearing 10 ft. 7-3/4 in., and his work was performed in faultless style. His nearest opponent, Brown of Drisler, reached no greater height than 8 ft. 9 in.

No better argument in favor of the abolishment of the bicycle-race from the interscholastic programme could be offered than Saturday's performance. It was not a race in the final heat, and it is not certain that the best man won. It was simply luck that kept Ridabock out of the mix-up which ruined the chances of every other competitor, twisted one or more wheels, and caused any number of bruises and scratches. The bunch was going around the lower turn, at the end of the second lap, when Ridabock spurted and got clear of the field. No sooner had he done so than Harbeck of Cutler's tried to follow him. Harbeck fell, and every other racer piled on top of him. By the time the tangle had been straightened out Ridabock was three-quarters of a lap in the lead, riding easily, and looking back complacently. This was a big piece of luck for Barnard, and enabled her team to tie Cutler's score. If it had not been for this, the latter would probably have gotten at least five points, if not more, out of the event, and would have been a closer second than she was to Berkeley.

The Interscholastic Cup now becomes the permanent property of the Berkeley School, her winning score at Saturday's games being 48 points. Barnard and Cutler tied for second place with 36, and Trinity came next highest with only 7.

In the Long Island games St. Paul's School of Garden City led all the way, and made the excellent record of 51 points, taking six firsts, six seconds, and three thirds. St. Paul's has a fine lot of sprinters, but the leader of them all is A. W. Robinson, the very swift young man who took both the senior and the junior hundred yards in 10-2/5 sec., breaking the record in both cases. He ought to take the event at the National games, or, at any rate, give Moore a very hard race. In the 220, Goetting of Brooklyn High was a little nervous at the scratch, and was penalized. This put him at a disadvantage, and he failed even of a place, the race going to Richards of Poly. Prep.

In the quarter, Van Wagenen of St. Paul's took the lead from the start, set a hot pace, and won easily, breaking the record. His schoolmate Hall followed his example in the half, and broke another record. Christensen of Brooklyn High did good work in this race, but showed himself to be better at the longer distance. Here, too, he had a race with Hall, but in this case he defeated the St. Paul's man.

Both the hurdles went to Herrick of Brooklyn High. In the longer distance he was penalized by two yards, but in spite of this he reached the tape first, and broke the Long Island interscholastic record.

In the field events the Long-Islanders averaged better than the New-Yorkers, Duval jumping 5 ft. 7 in., one inch better than Pell; Kinney putting the shot 41 ft. 9 in. to Young's 39 ft. 9-1/2 in.; and Brown throwing the hammer six inches further than Irwin-Martin, and also breaking his League's record. Forney of Adelphi did not do so well as Hurlburt in the pole vault, but this was hardly to be expected. Nevertheless, he bettered the previous record of the Long Island Association.

The papers on track athletics that have appeared from time to time in this Department are published to-day in book form under the title of _Track Athletics in Detail_. The aim of the book is to give clearly, accurately, and concisely the best available information concerning the methods of training for track and field events as practised by college and school athletes. The idea has been to furnish to the aspiring athlete the knowledge which he could otherwise obtain only from a professional trainer, and, where professional trainers are unavailable, this book should prove of especial value.

The events treated are limited to those recognized as standards by the Intercollegiate and Interscholastic Associations. Each one is treated as briefly as is consistent with thoroughness, and each article is illustrated with instantaneous photographs taken of the best exponent in each particular event. The illustrations are arranged in series, as they were when they first appeared in these columns, and show the attitude of the athlete at every important point in the performance of his specialty. The book should be especially valuable as being up to date in every particular, even to the table of records in the Appendix.

THE GRADUATE.

* * * * *

An Evening with Battle Heroes.

Now that the summer gayeties will soon be on us in full force, and entertainments of every conceivable character, old and new, are in demand, worthy Knights and Ladies of Chapters far and near are doubtless ready to arrange an evening for charity or pleasure, and I can safely recommend "An Evening with Battles and Battle Heroes" as a very acceptable entertainment.

Some explanation of the last number is necessary. The scene is enacted by a quartet of young men in Zouave uniform. An artificial camp-fire is constructed with the aid of handsome logs, crimson paper, and, if possible, electric light, though kerosene or candles will serve. It is needless to go into particulars; a member with mechanical ability will find no difficulty in making a very realistic camp-fire. The room is darkened while the logs are being set. The quartet recline about the fire, and two of them tell short, pithy war-stories. Then follow some war-songs; Root's "Tenting on the Old Camp Ground" is a beautiful selection.

PROGRAMME.

1. Piano Solo.--"Le Trot du Cavalier," Spindler.

2. The Death of Hamlet and Laertes; "Hamlet": Act V., Scene II., (all but these two parts may be omitted if preferable.)

3. Cornet Solo.--"La Marseillaise," Rouget de Lisle.

4. Discussion.--"Who was the Greater General, Hannibal or Cæsar?" (Delivered by two members.)

5. A Recollection of '63.

This programme will not occupy so much time that there will not be a half-hour or so of conversation, with opportunity for serving refreshments. Plenty of ideas concerning decoration, costuming, etc., will come to the members once they are given this outline.

VINCENT V. M. BEEDE, R.T.F.

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TO THE VACATION ARMY.

The quality of the food served at the hotel table or on board ship has almost more to do with the comfort and enjoyment of the traveller than any other one thing. When through unwholesome food indigestion seizes hold of the traveller's stomach, he may as well make up his mind to renounce a large part of his anticipated pleasure. There is much more in this than would appear at first thought. When we go to a hotel we look at the beds to see if they are clean, and feel of the cups to know if they are sticky or ill-washed. But we eat what is set before us, thankful if it doesn't taste bad. Would it not be well when you stop at a hotel to ask what baking powder they use, and if it is not Royal to go to the next? If going abroad, why not resolve to take no steamer unless the agent assures you that Royal Baking Powder is used exclusively in its galleys? At some hotels, and on board some ships, also, a false economy has induced the employment of alum baking powders. It would be well to inquire closely and avoid all such. Your pleasure may be spoiled by an attack of indigestion, or by seasickness induced by a roll, a biscuit, dumpling, or griddle-cake made with poisonous alum baking powder. Good health and good food add zest to your vacation pleasures. The best and most wholesome pastry cannot be made without the Royal Baking Powder, and the hotels and steamers noted for the excellence of their cuisine we have found use it to the exclusion of every other.--_The Traveller._

Arnold

Constable & Co

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EARN A BICYCLE!

We wish to introduce our Teas, Spices, and Baking powder. Sell 75 lbs. to earn a BICYCLE; 50 lbs. for a WALTHAM GOLD WATCH AND CHAIN; 25 lbs. for a SOLID SILVER WATCH AND CHAIN; 10 lbs. for a beautiful GOLD RING; 50 lbs. for a DECORATED DINNER SET. Express prepaid if cash is sent with order. Send your full address on postal for Catalogue and Order Blank.

W. G. BAKER, Springfield, Mass.

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 many 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.

Continuing the run from Poughkeepsie to Waterbury, leave Newtown and proceed to Southbury over a fairly good road, with a few hills. Leaving Southbury, keep to the right; but before getting beyond the town limits a sharp turn to the left is made, and at the fork beyond turn again to the right and run out to Strongtown. From Strongtown to Naugatuck the road improves slightly, and is in good condition. There is no difficulty in finding the way except at a point a mile or more before reaching Longmeadow Pond. Here a sharp turn to the right, another to the left, and a third to the right again are made, and it may be necessary to make inquiries in order to keep to the proper road. Passing Longmeadow Pond, continue to Naugatuck, and here cross the railroad, turn to the left, run up through Union City by Great Hill, to Waterbury, following on the eastern side of the railroad and Naugatuck River.

Leaving Waterbury, proceed direct to Waterville, running alongside the New York and New Haven Railroad, keeping to the left of Waterville by a somewhat steep hill, and then bearing to the right again into Pequabuck. Crossing the railroad, follow it to Terryville, and keeping sharp to the right on running out of Terryville, run to a junction of the roads about a mile out of Bristol. It will be wise to follow the map here, carefully turning to the left, and on entering Bristol keeping to the right again rather than running straight through the side streets of the town. Passing Forestville, cross the railroad at Plainville, and follow the railroad into New Britain. The run from New Britain to West Hartford is not difficult to find, except at about four miles out from the centre of the city the rider must keep to the right at the fork, and a little less than three miles farther on, instead of running into Elmwood, he should bear to the left and make straight for West Hartford. At West Hartford take Farmington Avenue and run into Broad Street, Hartford; thence proceed to Capital Avenue, Trinity Street, and Pearl Street to the City Hall.

The roads along this route are in reasonably good condition, but they are not very level. After reaching the Connecticut line, and especially after leaving Newtown, the wheelman will find that he has a good many very short but somewhat steep grades, and the danger is, if he is not an experienced rider, realizing that they are not very long hills, and not appreciating the strain that a succession of short hills gives to a rider, he may try to do them all. It should be borne in mind, therefore, that it is wiser occasionally to dismount and walk up several of these hills, or to dismount and rest on the top of one or two of them. Otherwise a run of this length, which is not over thirty miles, would tire the average rider and take away the pleasure of his run.

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 No. 820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia-Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City--First Stage in No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland--First Stage in No. 827; Second Stage in No. 828. New York to Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833. Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839. Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843. Philadelphia to Washington--First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth stage in No. 847; Fifth Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849. City of Albany in No. 854; Albany to Fonda in No 855; Fonda to Utica in No. 856; Utica to Syracuse in No. 857; Syracuse to Lyons in No. 858; Lyons to Rochester in No. 859; Rochester to Batavia in No. 860; Batavia to Buffalo in No. 861; Poughkeepsie to Newtown in No. 864.

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.

Some of the most advanced collectors are now mounting the stamps in their albums by affixing the hinge at the left side. First quality of hinges are used, and as small a portion of the stamp covered by the hinge as possible. This method has many advantages over the old plan of hinging at the top.

A philatelic button has been put on the market, and is finding quite a large sale. It is circular in form, bearing a suggestion of the common 2c. red stamp in the centre, with the motto in a circle, "Philatelia's Followers." The price is fifteen cents.

A gentleman has just disposed of his collection as a whole for $11,000. This collection was made during the fifteen years 1860-1875, when stamps were low in price, owing to the fact that study and observation had not yet determined the relative scarcity of the stamps then known. The collector kept a record of what his stamps cost, which was about $350 in all. The gem of the collection was an unused Cape of Good Hope, black 4d, error in red, which has since been sold for $2500. Many other rarities are in the collection, and the purchaser has already sold enough to pay the first cost, and has many valuable stamps left as a profit.

One of the leading philatelists of England has published an article claiming to have discovered the secret mark on the 30c. 1873 U. S. It turns out to be the regular faint centring mark, which shows on almost every U. S. stamp until the plate has been worn down by printing.

Nearly two years ago the Boston post-master had a cancelling die made in the form of the U. S. flag. His example has been widely followed throughout the Union, and now other countries are using a similar device. In Canada they use the "union-jack," and it makes a very neat cancellation. This is a very commendable practice from the point of view of philatelists. How often have we not been obliged to put a stamp in our albums which was cancelled with a dauber. The most advanced philatelists make it a point to get cancelled stamps bearing a date-mark wherever possible. Of course, in the case of very rare stamps they are glad to take whatever they can get.

The stock of sixpenny Bahamas, mauve, is entirely exhausted. Probably a new stamp in another color will be issued. This stamp is much scarcer than the catalogue price would indicate (25c., either used or unused).

Collectors of revenue stamps will be interested to know that Western Australia has issued one stamp of value £2625 (about $13,000). The Black Flag Mining Company purchased forty leases of mining lands for £525,000. The stamp duty was £2625. The government took a one-penny stamp and surcharged it with the amount, and the lessees affixed it to the lease. When that lease expires the collectors of Australia will bid against each other for the unique stamp.

J. V. COOPER.--Stamps bearing "Ultramar" with date are Cuban stamps issued between 1868 and 1876. The Congo 50c. green can be bought, used or unused, for 20c.

P. B. SHEE.--The 2-1/2d. English surcharged 40 paras is used, for prepaying letters sent through the British Post-office at Constantinople. Germany, France, and Russia also have post-offices in Constantinople, as the Turkish P. O. is very inefficient.

J. N. FRAZIER.--No premium on your coins.

A. O. HALL.--"Speculative" stamps are those issued by governments primarily for the revenue to be raised by the purchase of the unused stamps by stamp-dealers and stamp-collectors. The stamps themselves are good for postage. Instances: the various "Seebeck" issues, the St. Anthony stamps of Portugal, etc. "Fraudulent" stamps are those not issued by a government for postal or revenue purposes, but are issued by unauthorized parties. Instances: the Principality of Trinidad, Clipperton Island, Nyassaland, etc.

JACQUES COMBES, Lycée, 106 Rue de la Pompe, Paris, wishes to exchange European stamps for United States stamps.

W. K. DART.--There is no 2c. green Straits Settlement 1892. The 12-1/2c. Canada is worth 30c.; the 10c. pink, 4c.; the 5c. beaver, 5c. U. S. revenues are very well worth keeping, with the exception of the 2c. Bank Check, etc.

A. CUENOD.--The 5r. Switzerland unperforated is worth 15c., the 15r. unperforated 6c., the perforated 5r. and 10r., 2c. each.

G. H. CLARK.--The surcharge "O.S." on New South Wales stamps and others means "Official Service." Your Canadian piece is a token, not a coin. Stamp-dealers, as a rule, are not collectors.

HAROLD C. DAY, 420 Madison Avenue, New York city, wishes to exchange stamps.

PHILATUS.

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1000 Mixed Foreign Stamps, San Marino, etc., 25c.; 101 all dif., China, etc., 10c.; 10 U.S. Revenues, 10c.; 20 U. S. Revenues, 25c. Ag'ts w'td at 50% com. _Monthly Bulletin_ free. Shaw Stamp & Coin Co., Jackson, Mich.

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Cryptography Again.

Members with musical tastes will enjoy corresponding by means of a musical cryptogram. Though this is more difficult of construction than the Dial or Stencil cryptogram, it will be a novel and interesting variation of the "Model Letter-writer," and such helps. If, perchance, a member becomes involved in State politics, and desires to inform his friend in office of an important plan, he can send a few bars of music and no one will be the wiser.

On a 10-inch square of card-board draw a circle divided into 30 parts. These should be separated by lines into three rows or sets. In each of the outer spaces place a figure of musical time, in each of the next row the capital letters of the alphabet, and in each of the inner spaces a note or group of notes on ruled lines. The blank space within is to be filled by a movable disk. On the edge of the disk, at regular intervals, place the three musical signatures, and through the centre drive a pin. Your correspondent must be supplied with a similar dial. Provide yourself with the regulation ruled music paper. Turn the disk so that one of the signatures will correspond with a note on the square, with a letter and figure of time above it. This will give the clew to your correspondent. You are now prepared to write your message by using the various notes which correspond to the letters above.

VINCENT V. M. BEEDE.

* * * * *

South African Fruits and Facts.

Perhaps your scientific readers can make an astronomical puzzle plain to me. A gentleman with whom I am well acquainted, has often said he could always tell whether we would have rain by the appearance of the new moon. If on her first appearance she was "on her point" we would have rain, if she lay on her back we would have dry weather. I confess I was rather sceptical when I first heard this, but it has been proved to me so often that I am fain to believe it.

During our recent severe drought this gentleman used to look at the new moon every month. "No rain this month." At last, "The moon is on her point! we'll have rain!" and _we did have rain_. Can you explain this? His predictions concerning the weather have never been known to fail. An old Kafir used to say, "The moon's dam is open; we'll have rain." It was no use explaining to him that there was no water in the moon. The question is, Does the moon really affect the atmosphere? That is to say, "Why is it that in rainy seasons the moon is on her point?" I should be much obliged if some of your clever readers would kindly solve this problem for me.

I like Brenda Neville's suggestion of a temperance club. I am a teetotaler, and would like to correspond with Lady Brenda. One has only to live among the Kafirs to see what an awful power brandy has over men. In one of our newspapers I saw that total abstinence is steadily on the increase in Cape Colony. I am glad of it. I hope the Founders of our splendid Order will take up this idea of a temperance club. Our object--as far as I understand it--is to do as much good as we can in the world, and to make the best and most of our lives.

In the Park at East London (South Africa) grows a rather peculiar plant. It bears a fruit which so exactly resembles a hen's egg that many people have been deceived by it. In fact, one lady took several to an old Dutch woman, and asked her if she would kindly set them under one of her fowls. The simple old woman was delighted, being under the impression that these were a particularly precious setting of eggs. It was not until some time after that the lady explained her practical joke.

The wild coffee grows about the mountains and kopjes here. It is an exceedingly pretty shrub, the leaves being of a bright glossy green, and the flowers of a waxy cream-color. It bears berries which, after a while, turn red. After they are dry, if you open one, you will find two seeds very much resembling bought coffee. One of my uncles had a number of these seeds gathered, burnt, and ground. Then he had it prepared in the ordinary way, and said it tasted very good indeed.

The wild-tobacco-tree grows about here too, but it is not of much use. It is said to be poisonous, but I am told that this is incorrect. We used to make chains out of the flowers years ago.

In the kloofs we have several varieties of the wild geranium. My favorite is the "Ivy." It looks so pretty growing over the rocks or around some old stumps. The aloes grow all up the sides of the mountain. When it is time for them to flower, a tall stalk shoots up from the middle of the aloe which, in course of time, becomes covered with red blossoms. There is another aloe which is extensively used for making fences. I do not know whether it grows wild. When it flowers it sends up a stalk to a very great height, the top of which is crowned with yellow flowers. It has long tapering leaves, the sides of which are covered with thorns. It makes an excellent hedge.

At the agricultural show, which was held on the 26th and 27th February, in Queenstown, I saw a pair of snow-white ferrets. I thought at first they were white mice. Among the rocks we often see dassies sunning themselves. These are said to be the conies of the Bible. The spring hare, or jerboa, is a great nuisance to the farmers. Its front feet are used for making burrows. Its hind legs are four times the length of the front ones, and it is with these that it makes its prodigious leaps. It is said that the jerboa uses its tail as a lever. It comes out at night-time and works great havoc among the farmers' crops. By the time this reaches you autumn will have set in properly. At present there seems no abating of the summer heat. If anything it is worse.

ISMA FINCHAM, R.T.L. ROYDON, QUEENSTOWN, CAPE COLONY, SOUTH AFRICA, _March_ 2, 1896.

Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to hear from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.

HOW TO MAKE A NEGATIVE FROM A PRINT.

It sometimes happens that one is so unfortunate as to break a valuable negative. If the glass is broken, but the film uninjured, the film may be removed, and transferred to another glass with very little trouble. (Directions for this process were given in No. 856 of the ROUND TABLE.) If the film as well as the glass is broken, there is no way of restoring the negative, but a new negative may be made from an unmounted print.

The printing-frame must be fitted with a plain glass, free from defects. Lay the print on the glass face up, and place over it a slow plate--a plate about the sensitomer of the Carbutt "B" gives the best results. If the print is of average density, expose to an ordinary gas-flame or lamp-light for five seconds. A little longer time must be given to a strong print, and a little less to a weak print. Develop the same as any negative properly timed, starting with a slow developer.

In case one has only mounted prints, remove the print from the card by soaking in warm water till it can be easily stripped off from the mount. Lay the print face down on a sheet of glass, and sponge carefully to remove all particles of paste. Sometimes the print requires soaking after it has been removed from the mount if the paste used was very adhesive. After the print is cleaned, dry on a ferrotype plate free from scratches. Old albumen prints make fine negatives, as the paper gives deeper prints. It is always a good plan to make a paper negative from fine plates, so that if a negative is accidentally destroyed one has still a good substitute.

Sir Knight Russell Senior, who is much interested in the formulas for tinted papers and transparencies, sends the following process for changing blue prints to brown:

"After washing and drying as usual, immerse the print in a solution made of strong ammonia water, 1 oz., water, 8 oz. Leave the print in this solution till it has lost its blue color, which will take from three to five minutes; then rinse and place in a solution of water, 6 oz., tannic acid, 1 dram. (This must be filtered before using.) The print must remain in this solution till the required sharpness and tone are obtained, which will take from ten to fifteen minutes. If the color is not dark enough at the end of fifteen minutes, add a few drops of ammonia; leave in two minutes longer, and wash."

Our members will probably like to try this formula, and very soft tones of brown may be obtained if the directions are carefully followed.

SIR KNIGHT FRANK F. SMITH, P.O. Box 236, Cumberland, Md., one of the prize-winners in our recent contest, says that any of the other prize-winners who wish a copy of his prize picture may have it by sending a copy of his or her own picture that also took a prize, and that any members of the Camera Club who would like a photo-etching of the picture may have it by sending two-cent stamp for postage. Sir Knight Frank would like to exchange photographs with each of the prize winners.

SIR KNIGHT J. M. COREY asks how to transfer the film on a photograph to glass, and how a drop-shutter is made. The best way of transferring film to glass is to use the transferrotype paper for prints, and then transfer according to directions given in No. 840 of the ROUND TABLE. Directions for a drop-shutter could not be given without illustrating with diagrams, and our space does not allow of illustrations.

"NEW PATRON," Nova Scotia, asks for a formula for a flash-light powder. Why not use the pure magnesia? It makes a strong actinic light, and if burned on metal is comparatively harmless, but when combined with other compounds is sometimes dangerously explosive, and requires great care in handling. In regard to mixing the solutions without hydrometer, the simplest way would be to use the rule for ten-per-cent. solutions--one ounce of the chemical and nine ounces of water. A twenty-per-cent. solution would be two ounces, Troy measure, and eight ounces of water. A thirty-per-cent. solution would be three ounces, Troy measure, and seven ounces of water.

SIR KNIGHT F. T. WATSON asks how to make solio and aristo paper; what is litmus paper, filtering paper, and distilled water; how many sheets 4 by 5 blue prints can be made with formula given in No. 797; if the formula given for glycin developer is good for pocket Kodak; wishes a formula for combined toning and fixing bath; and what is a ferrotype plate, and for what it is used. Do not attempt to make either solio or aristo paper; it is much more expensive than to buy the ready-prepared paper. Formulas for toning both in one and two solutions are enclosed in each package. Litmus paper is unsized white paper steeped in a solution of litmus and dried in the air. It is used to test solutions, the red litmus paper for alkalies, and blue litmus paper for acids. Filtering paper is unsized porous paper, and is used to filter or strain solutions to remove any impurities which they may hold. Distilled water is water evaporated by boiling, and again collected and condensed by means of a still. In making up solutions where one cannot get distilled water, water which has been filtered will often serve as well as distilled water. A ferrotype plate is a thin iron plate highly varnished. It is used by amateurs to dry aristo prints. The prints are squeegeed to the plate, and when dry have a high polish. The glycin developer works well for films, but is rather slow. Metol-quinol is better, and more easily managed. Three or four dozen sheets of paper may be sensitized with the blue-print formula.

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.

How to make a cup of tea? Is that what Agnes and Amy wish me to tell them? Nothing is easier. The odd thing is that so many girls fancy tea-making a difficult art, when it is really a very simple process, which needs only attention and care to produce excellent results.

One thing you must if possible have, and that is a good brand of tea. English breakfast, if excellent, is a very satisfactory kind, and there are blends of Oolong, Souchong, and just a dash of orange pekoe which any good grocer will put up for you, and which are very satisfactory. By this I mean that the taste is refined and agreeable, and the tea rests and refreshes the one who drinks it. I myself prefer a sort of tea which comes from Ceylon, and has a fragrance like flowers, and is so clean and sweet and smooth that no tea compares with it in the opinion of those who have given it a trial. Whatever tea you use, it should be bought in small quantities, unless you have an air-tight box, lined with tin-foil, in which to keep it from the air. Tea loses its flavor if carelessly kept in a loosely fastened caddy.

Having good tea to begin with, next be sure that you have freshly drawn pure and filtered water of which to make the beverage. The water must not have been standing for hours exposed to the weather nor simmering on the range, and growing flat. It must be fresh, and then if you have a brisk fire, or the hot flame of an alcohol-lamp, bring it quickly to the boil. A flat-bottomed kettle is to be preferred, as it has a broad surface to expose to the heat, and the boiling is soon accomplished. Water is boiling when it bubbles and jumps merrily about, and the steam comes in white puffs from the spout of the kettle. It does not boil when it begins to simmer and to sing. That is only the sign that it is near to boiling. You must make your tea when the water has just boiled, not when it has been boiling a long time. A kettle which has been standing on the back of a stove all day, filled up now and then by a dipper or two more of water added when some has been taken out, will not make good tea. You must boil the water on purpose.

An earthen pot is better for tea than a metal one. Pour a little boiling water in the pot to heat it, and after a minute or two pour it out. Now put a teaspoonful of tea for every cup of hot water--an even, not a heaping spoonful--and add an extra one for the pot. Pour on as much water as will fill the number of cups you wish to make. Let it stand two minutes, then with a long-handled spoon stir the leaves once through the water, and instantly cover the pot again. Three minutes more and your tea is done. Never let tea steep or boil, or stand a long time. It is a quick, neat, nice process from beginning to end.

MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

Physicians lay the greatest stress, On perfect, spotless cleanliness; And where this law is recognized, There Ivory is most highly prized.

Copyrighted, 1896, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.

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Commit to

Memory.

In Germany the children in the schools Commit to Memory the words they are accustomed to sing, and they are seldom at a loss for Music anywhere; especially when great numbers are assembled do they sing together, in mighty chorus, the songs and hymns of the Fatherland without reference to a book "for the words." This is a grand result coming out of the Schools. In America too much time is occupied in teaching, not enough in learning, and, as a result, when we want to sing--perhaps only the National Hymn--"nobody knows the words." Let it be regarded an essential part of School work, daily or weekly, for Teacher and pupil to Commit to Memory some good thing in Prose or Verse.

The Franklin Square Song Collection comprises Eight Numbers, which may be had bound separately or in different styles. These numbers may also be had in two volumes at $3.00 each. For full list of contents, sixteen hundred songs and hymns, alphabetically arranged, address

Harper & Brothers, New York.

_NOW READY:_

TRACK ATHLETICS IN DETAIL

Compiled by the Editor of "Interscholastic Sport" in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE. Illustrated by Instantaneous Photographs. 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. In "HARPER'S ROUND TABLE Library."

Each chapter of this book treats of a different event of track and field athletics, and is illustrated by instantaneous photographs of the leading athletes of America. These pictures show the detail of the work for each event, and the text gives instruction and advice which will prove most valuable not only to athletes who cannot avail themselves of the services of a trainer, but to more experienced performers as well. In an appendix are given the A. A. U. rules and tables of amateur, inter-collegiate, and interscholastic records.

* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.

A CLOSE CALL.

* * * * *

An American who was travelling in the hills of Scotland paid ten dollars for a first-class ticket for a stage-coach ride over the mountains. Soon after the start he noticed that a man who had a second-class ticket, which cost five dollars, and several who had third-class tickets, price two dollars and a half, were enjoying as good seats and apparently as many privileges as he was. The American concluded that the canny Scotsmen had gotten the better of him, but decided to hold his peace and pay for the experience. When the end of the journey was reached, at evening, however, the traveller had changed his mind; he felt he had had his money's worth. For every time that day when the coach came to the foot of a steep hill the horses were stopped, and the driver called out, "First-class passengers, keep your seats; second-class passengers, get out and walk; third-class passengers, get out and push!" And they all did every time.

* * * * *

There had been a lack of men joining the ranks, and the Colonel was visiting a recruiting-station, inspecting the workings of his recruiting sergeants. Suddenly a terrific noise of shouting and shuffling of feet came through the open window. Now it came from the stairway, intermingled with sundry loud bumps and knocks, and the door burst open, showing a red-faced perspiring little sergeant pushing, hauling, and tugging at a big country lad. The latter was doing his best to escape the firm grip of the soldier.

"Halt!" cried the Colonel. "How is this, sir?" he said to the sergeant. "Is this the way you secure recruits--by force, sir!"

The red-faced sergeant looked up and down, then at the Colonel, and blurted out, "Sure, sir, the only way to get them _volunteers_ is by force, sir."

* * * * *

Pat was an Irishman, and he was trying to ride a bicycle. "The pesky wheel," as he put it, wouldn't stay straight, but wriggled this way and that, every now and then landing him in a heap on the road. A number of people gathered around to see the fun. At last, however, he got started fairly well, and was moving along smoothly, when the wheel gave a lurch, and in attempting to recover himself he made a desperate lunge, and over he went, hitting the curb-stone in his downfall. A policeman ran up, and after straightening him out, demanded that he give an account of himself.

"Faith!" said Pat, "I'd loike to see any man give an account when he has once lost his balance."

* * * * *

It was a battered, war-scarred veteran that ambled into the pension-office one day last week, and slowly approaching the clerk of the office, asked, in a quavering voice, where he could get a pension.

"In what company did you serve?" asked the clerk.

"Company G, of the Sixth Volunteers."

"Ever injured in battle?"

The veteran drew himself up to his full height, which was distressingly little, and exclaimed, in as loud a voice as he could muster,

"Yes, sir; I was hit by a shell in the battle of Bull Run, and knocked all to pieces."

"Dear me!" said the clerk, smiling. "You're a wonderful veteran. Where do you live, and how do you manage to keep alive your many pieces?"

"That's the trouble, sir, and the very reason I want a pension, 'cause I've had trouble ever since taking up my quarters wherever I could find them."

* * * * *

Mary and Martha, two little sisters, had been promoted to the dignity of a big bed, where they slept together. "I sleep on the front side," announced Mary, with an air of importance.

"And where do you sleep, Martha?" inquired the visitor.

"I sleep where Mary doesn't," replied Martha, with a rueful glance at her restless little sister.

* * * * *

"Sam, I find you are an incorrigible story-teller. Did you ever in your life tell the truth?"

"Massa, de truth am a virtue, am it not?"

"Yes Sam, it is; but I'm afraid you lack that virtue."

"No, sah, dat am not so. It am such a powerful good virtue, sah, an' I's got so much ob it, sah, dat I's am not goin' to let any of it escape, so's I's done waste any of it, sah."

* * * * *

Two little girls were out walking, when they passed the big brick building of an orphan asylum. "That, Martha," said Mary, anxious to impart her knowledge to her younger sister, "is where the little orphans live. Mr. and Mrs. Orphan are both dead."

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, May 26, 1896, by Various