CHAPTER XXVI.

CAMPING 'MID PREHISTORIC BONES.

So strange and uncanny was the place in which our sledge party thus unexpectedly found themselves, that Phil was for exploring it, and attempting to determine its true character at once; but practical Serge persuaded him to wait until they had performed their regular evening duties, and eaten supper. "After that," he said, "we can explore all night if we choose."

So Phil turned his attention to the dogs, which he unharnessed and fed, while Serge prepared supper, and Jalap Coombs gathered a supply of firewood from the bleached timber ends projecting from the bank behind them. He tested each of these before cutting into it to make certain that it was not a bone, quantities of which were mingled with the timber.

The firewood that he thus collected exhibited several puzzling peculiarities. To begin with, it was so very tough and thoroughly lifeless that, as Jalap Coombs remarked, he didn't know but what bones would cut just as easy. When laid on the fire it was slow to ignite, and finally only smouldered, giving out little light, but yielding a great heat. As Serge said, it made one of the poorest fires to see by and one of the best to cook over that he had ever known.

Although in all their experience they had never enjoyed a more comfortable and thoroughly protected camping-place than this one, the lack of their usual cheerful blaze and their mysterious surroundings created a feeling of depression that caused them to eat supper in unusual silence. At its conclusion Serge picked up a freshly cut bit of the wood, and, holding it in as good a light as he could get, examined it closely.

"I never saw nor heard of any wood like this in all Alaska," he said at length. "Do you suppose this can be part of a buried forest that grew thousands of years ago?"

"I believe that's exactly what it is," replied Phil. "I expect it was some awfully prehistoric forest that was blown down by a prehistoric cyclone, and got covered with mud, somehow, and was just beginning to turn into coal when the ice age set in. Thus it has been preserved in cold storage ever since. It must have grown in one of the ages that one always likes to hear of, but hates to study about, a paleozoic or Silurian or post-tertiary, or one of those times. At any rate I expect it was a tropical forest, for they all were in those days."

"Then like as not these here is elephant's bones," remarked Jalap Coombs. "I were jest thinking as how this one had a look of ivory about it."

"They may be," assented Phil, dubiously, "but they must have belonged to pretty huge old elephants; for I don't believe Jumbo's bones would look like more than toothpicks alongside some of these. It is more likely that they belonged to hairy mammoths, or mastodons, or megatheriums, or plesiosauruses, or fellows like that."

"I don't know as I ever met up with any of them, nor yet heerd tell of 'em," replied Jalap Coombs, simply, "onless what you've just said is the Latin names of rhinocerosses or hoponthomases or giraffees, of which my old friend Kite Roberson useter speak quite frequent. He allus said consarning 'em, though, that they'd best be let alone, for lions nor yet taggers warn't a sarcumstance to 'em. Now if these here bones belonged to any sich critters as them, he sartainly knowed what he were talking about, and I for one are well pleased that they all went dead afore we hove in sight."

"I don't know but what I am too," assented Phil, "for at close range I expect it would be safer to meet one of Mr. Robinson's taggers. Still, I would like to have seen them from a safe place, like the top of Groton Monument or behind the bars of a bank vault. Where are you going, Serge?"

"Going for some wood that isn't quite so prehistoric and will blaze," answered the other lad, who had picked up an axe and was stepping toward the entrance to the cavern.

"That's a scheme! Come on, Mr. Coombs. Let's help him tackle that up-to-date log outside, and see if we can't get a modern illumination out of it," suggested Phil.

So they chopped vigorously at the ice-bound drift-log that had induced them to halt at that point, and half an hour later the gloom of their cavern was dispelled by a roaring, snapping, up-to-date blaze. By its cheerful light they examined with intense interest the great fossil bones that lay scattered about them.

"I should think a whole herd of mammoths must have perished at once," said Phil. "Probably they were being hunted by some antediluvian Siwash and got bogged in a quicksand. How I wish we could see a whole one! But, great Scott! Now we have gone and done it!"

Phil's final exclamation was caused by a crackling sound overhead. The sloping moss roof had caught fire from the leaping blaze, and for a moment the dismayed spectators of this catastrophe imagined that their snug camping-place was about to be destroyed. They quickly saw, however, that the body of the moss was not burning; it was too thoroughly permeated with ice for that, and that the fire was only flashing over its dry under surface.

As they watched these fitful flames running along the roof and illuminating remote recesses of the cavern, all three suddenly uttered cries of amazement, and each called the attention of the others to the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Brilliantly lighted and distinctly outlined against the dark background of a clay bank, that held it intact, was a gigantic skeleton complete in every detail, even to a huge tusk that curved outward from a massive skull. For a single minute they gazed in breathless awe. Then the illuminating flame died out, and like a dissolving picture the vast outline slowly faded from view and was lost in the blackness.

"Was that one of 'em?" gasped Jalap Coombs.

"I expect it was," answered Phil.

"Waal, then, old Kite didn't make no mistake when he said a tagger warn't a sarcumstance."

"It must have been all of twenty feet high," remarked Serge, reflectively.

For more than an hour they talked of the wonderful sight, and Phil told what he could remember of the gigantic hairy mammoth discovered frozen in a Siberian glacier, and so perfectly preserved that sledge-dogs were fed for weeks on its flesh.

As they talked their fire burned low, and the outside cold creeping stealthily into camp turned their thoughts to fur-lined sleeping-bags. So they slept, and dreamed of prehistoric monsters; while Musky, Luvtuk, Amook, and their comrades restlessly sniffed and gnawed at the ancient bones of this strange encampment, and wondered at finding them so void of flavor.

Glad as our sledge travellers would have been to linger for days and fully explore the mysteries of that great moss-hidden cavern, they dared not take the necessary time. It was already two weeks since they had left the mining-camp, winter was waning, and they must leave the river ere spring destroyed its icy highway. So they were off again with the first gray light of morning, and two days later found them at the mouth of the Pelly River, the upper Yukon's largest tributary, and two hundred and fifteen miles from Forty Mile.

One evening they spent in the snug quarters of Harper, the Pelly River trader, who was the last white man they could hope to meet before reaching the coast.

From the Pelly River trader our travellers gained much valuable information concerning the routes they might pursue and the difficulties they had yet to encounter. They had indeed heard vaguely of the great cañon of the Yukon, through which the mad waters are poured with such fury that they can never freeze, of the rocky Five Fingers that obstruct its channel, the Rink and White Horse rapids, and the turbulent open streams connecting its upper chain of lakes; but until this time they had given these dangers little thought. Now they became real, while some of them, according to the trailer, were impassable save by weary detours through dense forests and deep snows that they feared would delay them beyond the time of the river's breaking up.

"What, then, can we do?" asked Phil.

"I'll tell you," replied the trader. "Leave the Yukon at this point; go about fifty miles up the Pelly, and turn to your right into the Fox. Ascend this to its head, cross Fox Lake, Indian Trail Lake, Lost Lake, and three other small lakes. Then go down a creek that empties into the Little Salmon, and a few miles down that river to the Yukon. In this way you will have avoided the Five Fingers and the Rink Rapids, and found good ice all the way. After that keep on up the main river till you pass Lake Le Barge. There again leave the Yukon, this time for good by the first stream that flows in on your right. It is the Tahkeena, and will lead you to the Chilkat Pass, which is some longer, but no worse than the Chilkoot. Thus you will avoid most of the rough ice, the great cañon, and all the rapids."

"But we shall surely get lost," objected Phil.

"Not if you can hire Cree Jim who lives somewhere up on the Fox River to go with you, for he is the best guide in the country."

So the next morning Phil and his companions again set forth, this time up the Pelly River, with all their hopes for safety and a successful termination to their journey centred upon the finding and hiring of Cree Jim, the guide.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

FLORA, QUEEN OF SUMMER.

A MEDLEY.

BY CAROLINE A. CREEVEY AND MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

_Characters._

BLANCHE HOWE, _President of the Ninepin Club_. FELICIA DEFOREST, _Secretary of the Ninepin Club_.

_Members._

MORNA ROWLAND, LUCILLE TAYLOR, CHRISTABEL MASON, SOPHIA PRATT, ANNETTE SIMPSON, HELEN FAIRCHILD, AGNES STOWE.

ALICE TROWBRIDGE, _a classmate, not a member of the Club_; _an_ OLD WOMAN; _a_ MAID; BIRDS.

Eight Blue Birds { four little girls } { four little boys } } Six Yellow Birds { three little girls } _The Kindergarten Class._ { three little boys } } Six Red Birds { three little girls } { three little boys. }

SCENE.--_A drawing-room in_ Mrs. Ames's _private boarding-school. The Ninepin Club is holding one of its regular meetings. The question for discussion is_ A Summer Fête. _The President is in the chair._

TIME.--_The 30th of May._

_Blanch_ (_raps for order_). The Club will come to order, and hear the minutes of the last meeting. The Secretary will please rise.

_Felicia_ (_rises and reads_). The Ninepin Club met in the drawing-room for its usual weekly meeting. After the minutes of the last meeting had been read and approved, there being no business on hand, and no question to discuss, one of the members produced a box of cake and fruit just received from home, and the Club enjoyed a fine feast. The box was the more appreciated, as the members had dined that day off corned beef and cabbage, which bill of fare, it was voted, should never be allowed in the members' future homes. It was voted that thanks should be sent to the member's mother for the box. Lucille announced that she was expecting a box soon, and would treat the Club at their next meeting.

_Blanche_. You have heard the report. As many as approve will say aye.

_All_. Aye!

_Blanche_. The President would like to inquire if the member who was expecting the box to-day has received said box.

_Lucille_. I am sorry to say, Miss President, and members of the Club, that the box has been unaccountably delayed.

_Blanche_. It may come to-day?

_Lucille_. It may. And if it does, the members will be notified to attend a midnight meeting in my room.

_Blanche_. That is satisfactory. The Club accepts with thanks Lucille's invitation. Girls, you must put on your bedroom slippers, and come in perfect silence. If any member is absent, on account of not being able to pass the section teacher's open door, she shall be commiserated, and her share of cake and fruit shall be sent to her next day. Is there any other business?

_Morna_. I think we ought to consider whether Alice shall be asked to join the Club. Not that I want her, goodness knows, but yesterday Miss Foster spoke to me about her. She said we didn't seem to associate with her much.

_Annette_. Miss Foster spoke to me too. She thought Alice was a good girl, and only needed to be brought out.

[_Several of the girls speak at once, excitedly._]

_Helen_. Oh no, we don't want her.

_Christabel_. She would just spoil the Club.

_Sophia_. To me she is positively disagreeable.

_Felicia_. She dresses so plainly.

_Helen_. And does up her hair horridly.

_Christabel_. She is scared out of her wits if we just speak to her. I asked her the other day where her home was, and she looked awfully funny, and didn't answer a word.

_Morna_. I don't exactly like her face. I wouldn't trust her.

_Sophia_. That's it. I don't believe she is sincere.

_Annette_. And she hasn't had a box since she came.

_Blanche_. Order! You know Alice wouldn't be a bit congenial to me. But we will take a vote. Somebody make a motion.

_Felicia_. I move that Alice Trowbridge be not admitted to this Club.

_Helen_. I second the motion.

_Blanche_. All in favor say aye.

_All_. Aye!

_Blanche_. There, that is settled. But, girls, I advise you to pay a little attention to Alice outside of the Club, just so that the teachers won't notice. Miss Foster is awfully sharp. She pries about a good deal more than there's any call for her to. I shall ask Alice to walk with me pretty soon.

_Agnes_. Noble, self-sacrificing president! I will follow your example.

_Lucille_. I too.

_Sophia_. Suppose we all walk with her. Then Miss Foster can't say anything.

_Christabel_. I wish Miss Foster would mind her own business.

_Blanche_. Well, do not let's talk about this disagreeable subject any more. We were to have a paper on "Summer." Is the member prepared?

_Morna_ (_rises and reads_). I must beg pardon for having no paper prepared, but I have had so many headaches lately I have been warned by Dr. Louise not to work so hard. Instead of a paper, I have a proposal. The Doctor says we ought to live out-of-doors more than we do. Let us have a summer _fête_--something that is quaint and original.

_Blanche_. It occurs to me that we might have a picnic and dress in peasant costume.

_Lucille_. How would you like a mountain laurel party?

_Agnes_. Oh, Lucille! just the thing. Girls, we could ask for a hall-holiday, and have a Queen, and cover her with lovely pink and white blossoms.

_Blanche_. How many would like a laurel party? Raise your hands.

[_All raise their hands._]

_Sophia_. Let's appoint a committee to get it up.

_Christabel_. Do you suppose we could let Alice in on that?

_Annette_. Oh, bother that tiresome girl! No, we can't.

[_A knock on the door. All hush, and sit up very straight._ Helen _unlocks and opens the door. An_ Old Woman _enters. She stoops, leans heavily on a cane, and limps. She has on a long black cloak, and wears a large poke bonnet. Adjusting glasses on her nose, she scans the club members, then hobbles up to the_ President.]

_Old Woman_. Good-afternoon. Might I sit down and visit you a few minutes? (Helen _places a chair_.) Thank you, dearie. You see, it's hard for me to stand. I'm pretty lame. But I can get about very well. Oh yes; very well, considering. You don't know me, I suppose?

_Blanche_. I think not. Perhaps you have got into the wrong place?

_Old Woman_. Isn't this the Ninepin Club?

_Blanche_. Yes.

_Old Woman_ (_chuckling_). It's the right place. Oh yes, it's the right place. The Ninepin Club is where I was bound for.

_Christabel_. A most extraordinary person.

_Old Woman_. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Oh, I see, nine of you. That's why you are the Ninepin Club. Quite a coincidence. (_Shakes her head gravely._) But I thought there were ten in your class. How does it happen that you're one short?

_Blanche_. If you please, we would like to know what right you have to question our Club. Who are you, please?

_Old Woman_. Certainly, certainly. What's my name and where's my home? My name is Granny Playfair, and I am the general Club regulator. Whenever a Club is established, I look after it, d'ye see?

[_The girls appear much mystified._]

_Blanche_. Well, Granny Playfair?

_Granny_. And knowing about the Ninepin Club, I have come to regulate it.

_Blanche_. But how did you know about our Club? The members are pledged to secrecy.

_Granny_. How did I know? Well, there's where I am pledged to secrecy. It's a mighty good thing for Clubs that I regulate them, though. Little birds of the air sometimes tell me things.

_Blanche_. But, are you sure that our Club needs regulating?

_Granny_. Quite sure. Your Club is wrong all through.

_Blanche_. I have made a special study of _Cushing's Manual_, and we are quite parliamentary.

_Granny_. Well, I'm glad of that. (_Shakes her head._) Oh, but you do need regulating. And I shall do it. Never fear. Now let me see, you were talking about summer. Would you like to see how the birds keep summer? That would help you a little.

_Several of the Girls_. Oh yes, indeed.

_Granny_ (_knocks on the floor. Door opens, and enter two little children dressed in blue_). Come in, my birds. Are all the other birds assembled to do my bidding?

_Blue Birds_:

We heard you call, yes, one and all, And we were sent, we two; So now, dear Lady, tell us, please, What you would have us do; For every little blue bird is Devoted quite to you.

_Granny_. Then fly, and find us the wood where the laurel grows thickest.

[_Exeunt birds._]

_Helen_ (_aside_). This is an interesting Old Woman, but I can't make her out.

_Agnes_. Nor I, one bit.

_Granny_. Shall I tell you my dream, young ladies?

_Girls_. Oh! do tell us your dream.

_Granny_. I was passing through a long, deserted hall, when I heard sounds as of some one sobbing. In a side room, whose door was just ajar, entering, I saw a small figure huddled in a corner. The room was dark, and I drew a shutter, letting the light in upon a young girl. Yes, she was crying. I went softly to her, and touched her on the shoulder. "What ails you, dearie?" I said. "Oh, I am not in it," she wailed. I took a seat, and drew the poor child to me, and stroked her forehead, and chafed her little cold hands. "Not in what, sweetheart?" I said. "Not in the Club," she answered. "They are all in it but me." "But why are you not in it?" I said. And she answered. "Because my dresses are sober and old-fashioned. I am not bright and witty. I am plain. I believe I am dull in my studies, because the girls look at me so. I am frightened, and can't recite even when I know the lesson. Oh, I have not one friend in the class." My little dear fell to crying again, and I had to take her in my arms, and kiss her, and comfort her a long time before she could tell me all of her story. "My mamma is dead," she said. "Those girls don't know how dreadful it is to lose their mammas. My uncle takes care of me, and he won't send me boxes of sweets, because he thinks they are hurtful. And he thinks girls ought to dress plainly and inexpensively. He has money enough. I have some money of my own, which my mother told my uncle to take care of for me till I was of age. If only I could make my uncle understand that I can't bear to be different from the rest of the girls. When the other girls go home in vacations, I stay here with the housekeeper. My uncle says I ought to be thankful for so good a home. But I'm not thankful. Oh, Granny, I want my mamma!"

Well girls, you may believe me, this poor child's story touched me very much, and I thought how I could help her. I asked her uncle's address and kissed her, and told her that Granny would be her friend, and we went out of that lonely dark room, her little heart comforted. Then I wrote to that uncle, and the result was-- But here come the Birds.

_Blanche_ (_to the other girls_). It begins to dawn on me what Granny's dream means.

_Morna_. It's Alice, of course.

_Granny_. Hush!

[_Enter_ Birds. _Eight blue birds, six red birds, six yellow birds. Each carries a cluster or wreath or basket of pink laurel._]

_Granny_. Go back, little birds, and find Flora, your Queen.

[_They rush off and return dragging a large chair draped with green cloth. Then they scamper out again._ Granny _blows a toy whistle. The door opens, and enter_ Alice, _beautifully dressed in white, a wreath of roses on her head, a small wand tipped with a rose in her hand. On each side of her a blue bird walks. Behind, in pairs, all the others march. They go once around the room, and escort_ Alice _to her throne_. Granny _rises and makes a low bow_.]

_Granny_. Hail, Flora, Queen of Summer!

Hail, Flora, Queen off Summer! all Nature speaks your praises; She spells them in her violets, and twines them with her daisies.

For you the lances lift of countless gallant grasses! To you all fragrant odors drift, where'er your footstep passes.

Come make your subjects glad, these loyal hearts that love you! Nor let a single-thought be sad, while bright the skies above you.

_Granny_. And now, my birds, have you not an offering for your Queen?

[_The birds march gayly around the room: as they pass_ Flora, _each set pauses_.]

_Blue Birds_:

This time instead of laurel we bring you violets.

_Yellow Birds_:

And we have gathered roses, the flower for coronets.

_Red Birds_:

And we the little lily bells no loving heart forgets.

_Granny_. You see, dear Flora, how we all love you.

_Flora_. Thanks.

For the violets and the roses, The laurel bright and rare, And for the valley-lilies sweet, And the flowers all so fair, As well as for your loving words, I thank you, Granny; thank you, Birds.

And now, as I am Queen, I may invite you all to a little feast. The Birds will serve it. Strawberries and cream, cake and bonbons. As mistress of the fête, I am happy to serve the lovely Ninepin Club. Birds, help the girls.

_Blanche_. Girls, do eat these lovely things if you can. As for me, they would choke me.

_Felicia_. I cannot eat them.

_Granny_. You must not refuse, girls. Flora would be hurt.

_Blanche_. Well, then. But, first, as President of the Club, let me speak. I confess our fault. We have been harsh, cold, and cruel. We have treated our classmate shamefully. But believe me, Granny, we did not suppose we were inflicting pain. We were inexcusably thoughtless. For one, I ask Alice--

_Granny_. Flora, your Queen.

_Blanche_. I ask Flora's forgiveness. And I want some one in the Club to make a motion that Alice--Flora--be asked to join the Club.

_Annette_. I make that motion, and I want to say that I agree with our President in thinking we have acted shamefully. Forgive me, if you can, Alice--Flora. I mean.

_Agnes_. I second the motion, and I want to say that I never was so ashamed of anything in my life.

_Blanche_. All in favor of this motion say aye.

_All_. Aye!

_Blanche_. Now let us go and ask the Queen if she will join us and forgive us.

_Flora_ (_whose voice trembles a little_):

I have nothing to pardon, 'twas all a mistake. And the sweetest amends you are willing to make; Hereafter, dear girls, we'll be comrades and friends, Till, unclouded, our life at this pleasant school ends.

_Granny_. Kiss the Queen, dearies, and then eat your cake and cream. It is Flora's box. You see now the result of the dream. Instead of sending a box, the uncle, who is really at heart very kind, sent a liberal sum of money, and Flora directed this feast to be purchased.

[_All the girls kiss_ Flora, _who beams gratefully upon them_.]

_Granny_ (_to the birds_). Sit right on the floor, you sweet birdies, and you shall have a share in the good things. I must go now. My duty as grand regulator is done.

_Christabel_ (_laying down her plate_). Girls, I have my suspicions about that funny old woman. Let's catch her, and see if she isn't somebody in disguise.

[_All the girls run to_ Granny _with shouts and laughter. They pull off the bonnet, cape, spectacles, and cloak. Their teacher,_ Miss Foster, _stands revealed_.]

_Christabel_. I knew it. I knew it. You dear! You dear! What a lesson you have taught us! I shall never forget it.

_Morna_. So much better than reading us a long lecture.

_Miss Foster_. But you deserved the lecture.

_Lucille_. Yes, we did.

_Miss Foster_. I hope, dear girls, you have learned the lesson once for all your lifetime. Let the main business of this Club be to add comfort and cheer to a sad heart. But you will have to change the name of your Club; you cannot be ninepins any more.

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

PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 2.

FOR THE DARK ROOM.

To those who have a room specially devoted to photographic work and materials the only suggestion to them will be to adopt for their rules and laws:

I. A label and place for everything, and everything in its place _with_ its label.

II. Keep everything clean and free from dust.

These two directions for arranging and caring for a dark room will save hours of labor, and many spoiled plates.

The lighting of the dark room is the first thing which should engage our attention. If the developing is done at night, the stopping out of actinic rays will be avoided; but if in the daytime, care must be taken to shut out all direct rays of light. If the plate is kept in the direct rays of the red light, diffused light will not harm the plate. By diffused light is meant the stray gleams which come through a crack, or a door that does not shut tight enough so but what light shows around the edge.

There are many makes of lantern of all grades and prices in the market, and care should be taken in buying one that it is perfectly light-tight. An actinic ray from the lantern striking the plate will fog it. Most of the lanterns are made for using kerosene. A lantern in which the lamp screws into the bottom is not as light-safe as one which sets wholly inside the lantern, though there is less odor and grease from the kerosene. The trouble with a kerosene lamp is that the confined air soon becomes heated, causing the oil to lose its density, and it oozes out, not only making an unpleasant smell, but greasing the lantern. It will be found much more agreeable to remove the lantern and substitute in its place a candlestick and candle. The one known as the camping or soldier's candlestick is just the thing for a dark lantern. It is a little over two inches high, and made of brass, and costs only fifteen cents.

Adamantine candles are the best, as they last twice as long, and do not melt and run down the sides like the parraffine or tallow candles.

One needs two trays for developing--one 4 x 5 and another 5 x 8. The smaller tray can be used when one has only two or three plates to develop, and both trays where one has quite a number. The two trays are necessary also in transferring the plate from one solution to another, if the developing does not work satisfactorily. The tray for the hypo-sulphite of soda or fixing solution should be 5 x 8, so that two 4 x 5 plates can be fixed at one time.

The developing-trays should be of hard rubber or celluloid, and the hypo-tray of amber glass, so that there shall be no mistaking the developing for the hypo tray.

A four-ounce glass graduate is needed for measuring liquids, and if one has no scales, the dry chemicals should be weighed in the right proportions for use when they are purchased. The hypo can be put up in half-pound packages, and this quantity of fixing solution prepared at one time.

A glass funnel is needed for pouring solutions from trays into bottles, and also for holding the filtering-paper when filtering solutions. The funnel should be fluted, for the ribs make passages for the liquid to pass through the sides of the paper, letting the sediment settle at the bottom of the paper.

If one has not the advantage of running water for fixing and washing plates it is better to have a washing box in which to place the developed negatives. The regular washing box is made of zinc, which does not rust. The inside rack, which holds a dozen plates, is adjustable by thumb-screws for different-sized plates. The box has a small tube at one of the lower corners, to which a rubber hose is attached from the faucet, the water is turned on, and comes up from the bottom of the box, circulates between the plates, and runs out through an overflow spout at the top of the box.

The box containing the plates can be transferred from one pail or tub to another, or set on the floor, while the water is changed, without danger of breaking or scratching. A boy who is handy with tools can make a washing box that will answer every purpose.

The cost of the articles mentioned in this article are as follows: Candlestick for lantern, 15 cents; a 4 x 5 developing-tray, 50 cents; a 5 x 8 developing-tray, 72 cents (the price for these trays is for either rubber or celluloid); amber glass tray for hypo, 35 cents; glass graduate (4 oz.), 25 cents; fluted glass funnel (4 oz.), 15 cents; zinc washing-box, $2.25.

OFF WITH THE MERBOY.

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.