CHAPTER VII.

Even that drive of a dozen blocks was full of excitement. As the buggy whirled away from the post of the outermost sentry, after a brief impatient interview, the sergeant of the guard sang out to the only occupant whom he knew or in whom he felt personal interest, "Look out for 'toughs' down the street, Fred. A gang of 'em's just been scattered over at the Amity Works."

"That's where we're bound," was the answer shouted back over the lowered buggy top, and then our corporal turned to his whilom "boss," but now silent and embarrassed convoy. "Now, Mr. Manners, whether they recognize you or not they'll see my uniform, and while they're meek enough in front of a company, they're bold as a lion against a single militiaman. Hoist the buggy top. That'll fend off rocks from the back and sides, anyhow, and if anybody tries to stop us before we get to the works, whip up and drive for all you're worth."

It was good counsel. Turning out of the avenue with its electric lamps, the buggy was spinning through a dimly lighted, unpaved cross street. Knots of people were still hovering about the corners--even women and children. Loud, harsh voices were wrangling in a saloon, but for three or four blocks northward the buggy whirled unmolested, then ahead could be seen groups of uncouth-looking men arguing under the lamp-posts or skulking about the street corners, and presently, as Manners's swift roadster came springing up the street, the gas-light fell one instant on the buttons and white chevrons of the corporal's blouse. A burst of yells and taunts was the result as they drove by the first group. This drew the attention of the others, and redoubled yells and a crash of stones followed from the next, and presently the street ahead was alive with straggling rioters running out to head off this lone vehicle, freighted with they knew not what, but quickly divined to be of the hated "capitalistic class." Manners reached for his whip and lashed his spirited mare over the haunches. She seemed to leap into air, amazed and indignant, and two rough fellows who sprang at her head were banged aside as easily as an ironclad would burst through a shad net. But up the street the crowd was thicker. Only five blocks away now, around the second turn to the right, were the Amity Works and Fred's comrades of Company L, but between them lurked some hundreds of the foiled and furious mob, balked in their scheme of wrecking and burning the laden cars and the magnificently inflammable plant of the wealthy corporation, and eager to revenge themselves either on the owners or on those who had become its guardians and protectors. Some one recognized the buggy and Manners as they flashed by a lamp-post, and shouted his name. "Head 'em off!" "Stop 'em!" "Shoot 'em!" "Kill the bloody hounds!" were the only intelligible yells, and the gangs of "toughs" and tramps along the street and among the lumber piles yelled mad echo to the cry. Stones and other missiles came whirling through the night, some striking the mare and redoubling her wild speed, some clattering upon the buggy top, some few, better aimed, and from the front, whizzing into the buggy itself. One of these stung Manners on the cheek, just as Fred, bending low to dodge another, shouted to his companion, "Turn her to the right--next street--it's our only chance."

Not a second too soon. Galloping now, the game little mare was hard to guide, but Manners stood up and fairly dragged her around the corner, the dust whirling in clouds from the flashing wheels, the buggy nearly capsizing by the sudden turn. Here they came face to face and easily burst through a little knot of rioters running to join the crowd on the street they had just left, a yell of battled rage following them as they went dashing away up the dim, dusty lane. "Courage! Only three blocks more and we're safe," said Fred, as the manager, his grim mouth set, gripped hard at the reins and strove to regain control. But the mare was mad with fear and excitement now, and at the very next cross street swerved to the left, the shortest line to her stable. The buggy careened, whirled against the wooden curb, and in another instant, shooting its occupants across the sidewalk, went bounding and dashing up the street, shedding spokes, tires, cushions, and springs with every jump, and landing, a moment later, only a dangling wreck at the heels of the reeking mare in the hands of Company L, still ranked in front of the shops.

"It's Manners's buggy," cried Sercombe, "and he's spilled out somewhere up the street. The mob have got him. Save him if it's a possible thing."

So, too, said the Captain, and forty men of the "Backwoods Boys," as L was facetiously termed by the city companies, went doubling down the dusty street, peering eagerly ahead through the darkness.

Not a moment too soon, either. Stunned, bruised, and blinded, Mr. Manners lay like a log upon the wooden walk; but Fred, light and athletic, had bounded to his feet, despite the shock, and in an instant had picked up his rifle and run to the succour of his companion. With a yell of triumph the nearest rioters came rushing down upon them around the corner. Two blocks further away the gas-light showed other parties of excited, wolflike men hastening in pursuit. The nearest were some sixty yards away, but at least a dozen of them, with exultant howls and renewed cries of "Kill 'em!" "Slash 'em!" "Lynch' em!" bore down on the luckless manager and his sole defender. Instantly Fred slipped one of the long copper cartridges in the breech and slammed the block. "Stand back!" he shouted, "or I'll fire!" Then as they still rushed on he quickly raised the long brown Springfield to his shoulder and sighted square at the foremost man. "Halt, or I'll drop you in your tracks!" and the coward knew he meant it, and crouched and dodged, waiting for others to reach him. Then again, encouraged by the yells of those behind, on they came, but slower, skulking close to the fence, bending low, clucking and dancing to disconcert his aim. And then the words of his Colonel at the armory came ringing in his ears. "Not a shot, men--not a finger on the trigger except at the order fire!"--and there was none to order here. Yet dauntless and determined there he stood, and that one gallant Yankee boy, in whose veins the fighting blood of the Highland clans was boiling, in the simple service dress of the National Guard, was just enough to hold ten city "toughs" at bay one vital and all-important moment, for when, re-enforced by the coming of their fellows from the rear, they finally rushed on to work their cowardly hate on the one prostrate man with his sole defender, they were met face to face by the charge of Company L, and got the hammering they so richly deserved.

And so morning dawned at last on smoking yards, on half-burned shops, on slowly but surely moving mail and passenger trains, on the glistening walls and windows of the unharmed Amity Works, all stoutly guarded by businesslike detachments of the city's crack regiment, and the great mobs of the previous day and night were scattered far and wide. All night police and patrol wagons had been busily at work, and drunken or still riotous characters were being gathered in and trundled to the station-houses, or pitched neck and crop into some freight-car temporarily turned guard-house. The Steinmans, Frenzels, and other instigators had disappeared. Just as they had kept well behind the fighting line when the struggle was hottest, so now were they nowhere to be found when by their deluded followers as well as by the police they most were wanted. Stoltz, too, had been spirited away, and was in hiding somewhere among the outlying wards, but with a crack in his skull, said the doctor who gave first aid to the wounded, that would neutralize "the wheels in his head" for months to come. This at least was comfort to many, and the Wallaces were in sore need of comfort, for up to eight o'clock on this second morning of the strike not one word had been heard of the loved husband and father. At six the Colonel himself had ridden over to the Amity Works with a little escort, finding the neighborhood deserted, and only a few scowling, skulking rioters left. Taking Fred with him, he had patrolled the streets, and then given his anxious guide a chance to visit his home. "Stay as long as necessary, corporal; but-- I've heard about last night, and shall want you later to-day after you've found your father."

But when and how were they to find father was the question. Jim, under the influence of opiates, still slept heavily. The policemen told off to search came back crestfallen to say they could hear nothing of the old man. No one had seen him since he left the shops the previous day. Anxiety deepened with every minute, and at nine o'clock poor Mrs. Wallace had practically abandoned hope. "They've murdered him," she sobbed; "I know they have. They hated him for standing by his duty."

And even as she spoke there was a stir and excitement on the street without. "Police patrol coming!" said some one, and come it did at rapid trot, but without clang of bell or warning cry. It reined up abruptly in front of the little cottage, and then there went up a shout of delight, and Mrs. Wallace, rushing from the house, sobbing anew in relief from dread and sorrow, seized and clasped her husband in her arms as with calm dignity he stepped from the wagon. The police seemed desirous of creating a pleasant impression. They were assiduous in their care of Mr. Wallace. They begged Mrs. Wallace to understand that he had had the best breakfast money could buy. There was evident cause of embarrassment and something to be explained and extenuated, yet everybody crowded around Wallace, and nobody seemed to care to listen to them. They hung about as though they wanted to shake hands with him, but the old foreman only very formally touched his hat as he said good-by.

"Where have I been? How did I escape?" he finally said in answer to appeals of friends and neighbors. "I've been spending the night in jail--with other desperate characters. I escaped by being arrested--in Jim's coat--as a leader of the riot. Where's Jim?"

This was actually the case. Too few in number to effect anything in face of such a mob, some police officers, scouting about their heels, had caught sudden sight of old Wallace issuing with defiant air from the side door of the threatened shops. These officers were new to that section and had never seen him before, but his demeanor, his dress, his badge all stamped him as a man prominent in the outbreak, and despite his protestations they bundled him with a load of other prisoners into a patrol wagon, and sent him to the main station two miles away. Not until this morning could he secure recognition and a hearing. The old man was exceeding wroth, but his wife was thankful. "He'd have been killed," said she, "if he hadn't been jailed."

But despite his indignation, old Wallace was on hand a few hours later when a pleasing little ceremony was enacted at the Amity Works. There the "backwoods boys" were drawn up in line to listen to some remarks of their Colonel. A man of few words was that veteran when on duty, but everybody seemed to know what was coming as he halted in front of them, and Corporal Fred brought his rifle to the carry, stepped a few paces forward, and stood there a little white, a little tremulous with emotion.

"Men of Company L," the Colonel said, "you've done soldierly service--valuable service, one and all, and some day I hope you'll get the recognition you deserve; but there's one of your number who even more than the rest deserves a word. Within twelve hours of the call for duty Corporal Fred Wallace has had the conspicuous honors of being discharged from his clerkship for obeying the summons, being knocked senseless while doing it, being the guide of his regiment into the thick of the riot, and finally of saving the life, at the risk of his own, of the very man who discharged him.

"It has been your province during the night to convert some few rioters, but it has been his to convert what is termed 'a soulless corporation,' and I know you'll all be glad to hear him promoted sergeant on the spot. So much for our side. Now we'll hear Mr. Manager Manners."

And amidst shouts of laughter and applause Mr. Manners limped forward from a group of stockholders, while the Colonel heartily shook his young guide by the hand. And behind Manners there loomed up in the doorway of the shops a goodly stack of luscious fruit and boxes of cigars, and it was evident the company meant to royally entertain its defenders.

And Mr. Manners was understood to express himself substantially as follows:

"Gentleman of Company L. If these works had been destroyed last night half a million dollars would have gone up in smoke. We couldn't get insurance for more than quarter of its value. You saved it. Never until last night did I know, or my associates, these gentlemen, what it meant to have a National Guard. We thought it was the same thing as the militia we used to join and have fun with forty years ago when we were young, and so had determined to have no more of it in our business. We've learned we didn't know the first thing about it. We're clean converted. We find that young men nowadays are doing better by themselves, their State, and their country than we did. Now I've got a boy at home--a good boy, if I do say it--who wanted to join you three months ago, and I wouldn't let him, and I'm going home this day to beg his pardon, as I beg yours, and tell him I'll be a proud father if he can wear the uniform in the same company with you and Wallace and Sercombe. You've made Wallace a sergeant. Well, the Amity Works will stand by what they've done, too. They discharged Mr. Wallace from what we'll call a second-class clerkship yesterday afternoon, and they now fill the vacancy by the promotion thereto of his friend Sercombe from the shops. They have established another first-class clerkship, and to fill that original vacancy they name Sergeant Fred Wallace, of Company L, and we'll drink his health in the best and coolest lemonade to be had in the whole State."

"Well," said old Wallace, as he sat later in the day with the mother's hand in his, "I didn't take much stock in that soldier business either. But where would we all have been this day but for Fred--Fred and his regiment?"

THE END.

HINTS OF A RACING CAT-BOAT AND ITS CARE.

The popular idea that a racing cat-boat is an expensive luxury has doubtless arisen from the cost entailed upon those who keep a racing boat, and either cannot or will not themselves attend to the labor connected with keeping such a craft in the best of condition. Many boat-owners after entering for a race put their boats in the hands of boat-builders to be gotten into condition so abundant around rivers and bays where boat-racing is popular. To these men are usually intrusted, besides getting the boat into condition, the procuring and training of the crew, and if the race is important, the command of that too. Most likely the crew will be composed of rivermen, amply compensated for their services, and an amateur or two, one of which perhaps is the owner. Of course all this costs, the builder having to be paid for his labor of getting the boat ready and if he wins the race he naturally expects something extra.

There are some owners, however, who attend to all these matters personally, and their expenses are reduced to a very low figure.

If a boy has become the happy possessor of a boat, and is desirous of becoming a good sailor, there is no reason why he shouldn't have the pleasure of racing his boat, even if his supply of pocket money is limited, provided he personally attends to all the work connected with his boat. Besides saving much expense, it will serve to thoroughly acquaint him with every part of his craft, a perfect idea of her construction and rigging. If he makes a point of rigging her in the spring and dismantling her in the fall, he will know what to do if some part of his rigging gives way when he is sailing: and not be obliged to do as the owner of a line boat on the Shrewsbury River did last year when the lashings of a throat-halyard block gave way, lower sail and wait for a friend to tow him in.

We will suppose it to be spring and the boat to be in winter quarters on shore. Naturally it is to be supposed that after being out of water for some months her seams will have opened considerably. Do not attempt to calk her in this condition, for if you should, you would run a good risk upon the boards swelling of badly warping the planking. First of all, put the boat in the water and allow her to fill, letting her remain in this condition until the planking has swollen to the utmost: then pull the boat up on land and let her dry for a day or so, so that the paint will take. If the bottom is dirty, take a scrubbing-brush and water and thoroughly clean it. After the boat is dry, examine all the seams carefully, and where the openings appear too large to be stopped with paint fill them with calking cotton soaked in white lead. Go over all the other seams with white lead, and allow the whole to dry. Give the bottom a good coat of either copper or arsenic paint, and paint the above water body. After these coats have dried, go over the hull carefully with sandpaper, and remove all inequalities. Give the bottom and upper body another coat, laying it smoothly so as to give that fine gloss so pleasing to the eye and so essential to the racing boat. Take up the flooring and give the inside of your boat a couple of good coats of paint, devoting particular attention to the centreboard trunk where it joins the keelson. Examine the deck, particularly the joint with the coaming. Where there are any knee openings, if the deck is painted, calk them with cotton, if varnished, fill them with putty.

If the deck is a varnished one, remove all the remains of last year's varnish with sandpaper, and give the deck several coats of marine varnish. The deck should be varnished at least once a month during the season to keep it in good condition. At this time it would be well to bring your sail out and lay it on the ground in the sun so as to allow it to bleach, and give the centreboard a good scraping and varnishing or painting, as the case may be. The boat is now ready to be put in the water. Bring out the mast and spars, scrape with glass and sandpaper, and varnish them. Now step the mast. If the boat is a small one it may be lifted in by hand, but if it is a large one a pair of shears must be rigged. (See sketch.) The shears consist of two poles, about half the length of the mast (better if longer), two extremities of which are lashed together, and the others planted firmly in the ground, the whole being supported at an angle of about 45 deg. by a guy-rope. At the junction of the two poles lash one of the blocks of the throat-halyards, allowing the other to swing free. Attaching the mast or any other very heavy weight to this block it may be lifted in with ease. Put the gaff and boom in place, and lace the sail on. It will be quite a time before the sail will stretch to its fullest extent, and it will be necessary to stretch it along the gaff and boom after every outing for some time to come or it will not set properly.

A few words here about the care of the sail may not be out of place. Never roll a sail up when wet. Nothing will rot and mildew it more quickly. If you are compelled to put the boat up for the night when the sail is damp, tie a few stops around it at intervals, and allow it to hang loosely between them, just using a sufficient number to prevent the sail from thrashing about in case of a strong wind during the night. As soon as possible after a rain hoist the sail and let it dry. The quickest way to dry a sail is to hoist it to the full extent along the mast and drop the peak, and raise the boom quite high with the toppen lift. This will cause the sail to bag greatly, and the wind shaking it will soon dry the moisture out.

Your boat has been in the water for some time, and you have entered it for a race. The first thing to do in this case is to examine its bottom. This may be effected by selecting a shelving beach, and running your boat as far up as possible at high water, having previously removed all extra weights. Secure two guy-ropes to the mast-head, and drive stakes on each side of the boat about twenty feet off. Fasten the ropes to these stakes, so when the tide goes out they will hold the boat on an even keel, and on the receding of the tide it will be an easy matter to examine the under body of the boat.

If the bottom is so foul as to require repainting, construct ways and haul out, scraping and painting as in the beginning of the season. If the bottom should need only a slight cleaning and polishing slacken one of the guy-ropes so that the boat will rest on its side, and scrub clean with water and a stiff brush, polishing with cloths. After this side is finished pull the boat up to an even keel and slack away the other rope so it will rest on the other side, thus permitting you to get at the rest of the under-water body. If you are so fortunate as to possess a racing-sail and spars, unship the old ones and ship the racing-spars and sail. If you have not, your boat is about ready. Remove all extra weights (excepting ballast), and if movable ballast is permitted take it aboard. Examine all your rigging carefully, and do not omit to go over it again just before starting in the race. All this should be finished the day before the race.

Ranking almost equal in importance to the condition of the boat is the training of the crew. The length of time required before the race to get the crew in condition will, of course, depend upon the knowledge of the individuals. If the members have a fair idea of their business a few hours before the race will be sufficient, but if they do not, the sooner the training commences the better. For a racing crew to be handy, every man in it must know his especial part in all the manoeuvres, and when a manoeuvre is ordered must do it quickly and with the least confusion possible, and not try in an excess of zeal to attempt to do more than his part, unless so ordered. Above all, every man must obey implicitly and without question any order of the Captain, for no boat can be handled properly by its crew when anybody but the Captain is permitted to give orders. As to the number of the crew, the average cat-boat of, let us say, eighteen or twenty feet will require a helmsman, usually Captain, sheet-tender, centreboard-tender, and a man to look after the halyards. If your boat is so small as not to have so many men allotted to it, the centreboard and halyards may be tended by one man. If, on the contrary, more men than the requisite number are allowed, take the extra men, if the day is windy, as ballast only, or if movable ballast is permitted, as shifters.

Do not divide the work up into small parcels and give each one a little to do, it creates too much moving about when under way, a thing not in the least desirable. You might, however, have an understanding with them as to what they are to do in an emergency, such as taking in or shaking out a reef. Here a slight digression on taking in a reef when under way may be pardoned. When under way drop the sail so that the desired reef-points are about in a line with the boom, and when they are in the right position let the boat come up into the wind so that the boom will be inboard. Then order the crew to spread along the boom, and when the bow-man has fastened the desired cringle at the jaws of the boom, have them catch hold of the sail, stretch it along the boom, the sheet-tender making fast the cringle on the leach (outer edge) to the boom. As soon as this is accomplished tie the reef in. When all the reef-points are tied, let the boat's head fall off and continue on course, as the peak and throat may be properly hoisted, especially when you are strongly manned, nearly as well under way as when in the wind. This operation, so long on paper, may, with a well-trained crew, be accomplished almost in the time it takes to read this. Shaking out a reef is a very easy matter, and will need no mention. The whole aim in the training of a racing crew may be summed up as follows: Every man to know his part and do it when required. The first thing after explaining clearly to each man his particular station is to get the crew accustomed to the boat. A good way to do this is to take a spin at every opportunity with them over the course, making a careful note yourself of the bearings of the different marks by objects on shore, so that you will not lose valuable time in the race in finding them. Do not allow any lagging in these spins, for it is liable to lead to a blunder in the race, but maintain the same discipline as you would at that time.

The hour of the race is at hand. Your crew is aboard, and after a careful examination of the running rigging, blocks, mast-hoops, sail and its lacings, you set out for the starting-point. Arriving there, procure your racing number, and after fastening it upon the sail, take your boat out and cruise around in the vicinity of the starting-line, using this opportunity to practise your crew in tacking, gybing, and other evolutions likely to be encountered during a race. Upon hearing the preparatory gun, it is best to get near the line. If you feel confident that you have your boat well in hand, you might manoeuvre for a flying start, but if you are a little uncertain, it is best to secure a good position, and let your sail flap in the wind close as the boat lies stationary close to the line.

If the first leg is close hauled or a thrash to windward, it is advantageous to get away as near the front as possible, as the boats slower in starting usually get off in a bunch and cut up each other's wind. If the start is off the wind this is not so important. A flying start is very desirable, but it requires careful calculation and handling to bring your boat to the line at the right moment; and if by some mistake you should cross a few seconds before the gun, you would lose lots of valuable time in recrossing again. In a one-gun start the importance of getting off quickly is greater than in a two-gun. Bang! goes the starting gun. You are over the line, close-hauled most likely, on the starboard tack (on account of having right of way). Do not make the common mistake of hauling your boom in nearly amidships and jamming your boat up into the wind; it will not pay. It increases the drift, and your boat will not "foot" it as fast as one that is allowed a little more leeway. Again, do not let your boat sag off too far or a heavy gust may cause a "knockdown," with the consequent loss of much ground. Always be ready to luff and take advantage of any little gust of wind, and it is astonishing the amount of windward gain a clever sailor makes in this way. This does not mean to luff so much at every putt as to dump the wind out of your sail, or attempt to sail so close to the wind as not to get its full power.

The amount of sail carried should be proportionate to the wind; it is a great mistake to oversail a boat so that it wallows through the seas, necessitating luffing or dumping out the wind in the squalls and lowering of the peak when running before the wind. The angle of keel at which your boat sails best can only be determined by experiment, and it is a great blunder to carry sail so as to heel her to a greater one. When sailing close hauled or to windward, all obstructions that may catch the wind should be placed below deck if possible, or if it should be necessary to have the crew up to windward, let them lay close to the deck. (See sketch of start.)

As to the distribution of weight, aim to have your boat sail on the proper water-line at all times: do not allow your crew, when beating to windward, to pile aft, so as to escape spray, and so lift the bow out, at the same time do not get your bow too deeply in. When ready to go about (go on another tack), give the order "hard a lee," and let go the tiller, the unbalanced action of the wind on the sail will bring the boat up into the wind with a sweeping curve, and then use the rudder to put her on the other tack.

In this way you will go about easily, and will not lose headway, as is the case when the tiller is jammed over at the beginning. Immediately on hearing the order "hard a lee," the crew should stand ready to shift the ballast, and as the boat rounds up should change it rapidly, so as to have it to windward when the sail fills on the other tack. A manoeuvre of the same character should be executed when luffing around a mark.

Always be sure before going about that you have plenty of board down. We will suppose that you have luffed around the first mark, and the next leg is a run with the wind aft of abeam. This will not be particularly exacting, the only points to keep in mind being to have your water-line on proper trim, a full sail, and a straight course.

The second mark will have to be gybed around. This is a manoeuvre your crew cannot be too well drilled in. Give yourself plenty of room, and do not attempt to shave too closely. I witnessed last summer the capsizing of a boat resulting from this desire.

The mark was a buoy placed near a heavy stake, and the helmsman of the boat wishing to make a close shave steered too near it, and in passing fouled his sheet-rope on the stake before gybing; the result was the boat became unmanageable, and its momentum carrying it around gybed the sail over, causing an upset. As you near the mark have the man forward stand by the peak-halyard, ready to let go if anything happens wrong. As you are about to turn, have the board raised and come around with an easy sweep; but not so rapidly that the sheet-tender cannot haul all the sheet-rope in. The sheet should be brought in with a steady pull, and allowed to run out evenly. If any amount of slack is given as the sail goes over, the wind on catching on the other side, if it does not capsize the boat or carry away something, will bring her head up into the wind with such force that it will be some seconds before you can overcome it with the rudder.

The remaining leg of our course we will suppose to be nearly free. When running this way the board should be kept up, and all the weight in the boat aft, as a boat under the great pressure exerted by the wind when running this way has a tendency to dig its nose under. It is not necessary for your crew to lay down now, and you may allow them to stand and stretch themselves, as whatever wind they will catch will help the boat instead of retarding, as in the other cases. (See sketch of finish.) The only thing to be looked out for when running free, or nearly so, is a "goose-wing." This happens when the wind is so strong as to cause the boom to jump up parallel to the mast, and the sail wrap around it. If when running before the wind you find your boom is jumping too much, lowering the peak a little will lessen the pressure on the sail, and stop it.

It is impossible to prophesy the result of the race, but I can say that it depends equally on your boat and your management, with the training of the crew a close second.

A few hints on how to right a capsized boat may not be out of place here. If you should happen to be near some boat that has capsized you will, doubtless, feel it your duty to assist the unfortunate. It is not a difficult matter to right a boat when you go about it in the proper way. Run your boat alongside of the capsized one's mast and strip its sail off, unfastening the throat and peak blocks, unreeving the sheet-rope, and cutting the lashings of the sail to the mast-hoops. (Be careful that the sail does not sink.) Put your boat in a position alongside the bottom of the upturned boat, and unfasten your throat-halyard block from the gaff, fasten this to the mast of the capsized boat, as shown in sketch. It will then be an easy matter to pull the boat up to an even keel, when she may be pumped out.

We will suppose the autumn to have arrived, and you are ready to put your boat in winter quarters. After removing ballast, mast, sail, spars, etc., construct ways as shown in the sketch of winter quarters. They consist principally of two skids, on which the boat is run and hauled out, but if you care for the condition of the boat's bottom, a cradle had better be made following the idea shown in sketch. Pull the boat out to the end of the skids, and if it is desirable to get it farther away from the water, lay beams in front of the skids and pull the boat on them. When free of the skids take them up and lay them in front of the beams, repeating this operation until the boat is at the distance desired. After removing everything, cover the deck and cockpit with canvas. The sail should be sprinkled with salt and a little lime, not too much or it will cause rotting, the lime being used to bleach the sail only. This should be rolled up and packed away in a dry place, and the mast and spars should also be under shelter, but not where there is too great heat.

We have followed the fortunes of our boat from the beginning of the season until the end. Unfortunately the limited space of this article compels the mere mention of some points on which whole volumes could be written. It is only the purpose of this paper to treat this subject in the broadest fashion, and to give only general hints for the use of the beginner in one of the most manly of sports.

DUDLEY D. F. PARKER.

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.

I heard a girl spoken of the other day by one of her friends as a perfect candy fiend. It made me laugh, because I knew the girl in question, and I had never observed anything fiendish or malevolent about her. However, it is so much the fashion for girls to use sweeping expressions, that I am never a bit surprised when I hear "awful," "dreadful," "horrible," "terrible," and other strong words of that kind used without much reference to their exact meaning. I suppose the young girl described so alarmingly is very fond of candy, for which nobody can blame her; not I, certainly, especially if it be home-made. But I will imagine that each of my girls has an allowance, so much given her a week to spend as she pleases. What proportion of this should she devote merely to gratifying her taste for sweet things? Do you not think it rather foolish to spend so much on bonbons, caramels, and creams, that a girl has nothing left when she wishes to help clothe a poor family whose house has been burned over their heads, to buy a pretty framed photograph for her room, or to make a Christmas present for her mother or dear friend?

It is quite time, by-the-way, for us to begin the consideration of our Christmas presents in these bright days of late summer. By giving a little thought and time to the matter, paying attention to small wishes and wants which are spoken of in the family, we can often give our friends and ourselves much more pleasure than can be done when everything is left to the hurry of the last few weeks of the year. I heard a lady say the other evening, "I have at least six girl friends who knit beautifully, and I do wish one of them would make me a fascinator." "And pray what may a fascinator be?" said I. And I learned that it was simply a beautiful fleecy thing to wear upon the head in the evening. It used to be called a "cloud" when I was a girl; and in my girlish days I always kept one on hand to use up odd moments. It is pretty, dainty work. Bedroom slippers, crocheted and made up over lamb's-wool soles, are welcome gifts to receive, and not hard to make. May I add that a present is much more likely to give satisfaction to the recipient if it is beautifully wrapped up in tissue-paper and tied with dainty ribbon? I never derived more pleasure in my life than from a book which came to me one white cold Christmas eve. The book was daintily wrapped in white tissue-paper and tied with a white ribbon, which fastened on the cover of it one dewy, long-stemmed rose. A candle and candle-stick is a graceful and useful present. You know that one should always have a bedroom candle at night. It is a comfort to have it standing on a little table near the bed with a supply of matches. One never need then be in the dark a moment if a light happen to be necessary. I saw a very quaint and charming candle-stick the other day. It was in the shape of a monk with a cowl and robe, and he was patiently holding up a long crimson candle. Candles may be had in many colors, some of them very ornamental, and candle-sticks come in china, silver, and bronze, and sometimes very pretty ones in tin, though I do not recommend you to give a tin candle-stick as a present if you can afford one in another material.

Presents of one's own work are always very much appreciated, and there are many beautiful things in linen, such as doilies, centre-pieces, and the like, which are welcome additions to your mother's table, so that you cannot go wrong in choosing something in linen to embroider for her. A set of towels with a monogram in the corner makes a very tasteful gift, and I can imagine nothing lovelier than for a family of girls, or a class, to embroider a bed-spread for a mother or teacher. This, of course, would be a large undertaking, and should be begun many months before the time it is wanted, and you would have great fun in keeping the affair a secret. I saw a very beautiful bed-spread some weeks ago at a house where I was a guest. The lady who is making it has been engaged on it for years, and it is very elaborate--cream-colored linen of the finest texture, covered all over with beautiful vines and flowers. She has worked always from the flowers themselves, copying them faithfully in shape and tint.

When you are writing to me it would be very pleasant to have you tell me of beautiful Christmas gifts you intend to make. A girl in Maine might have a suggestion which would be acted upon by a girl in Nebraska. I will be extremely pleased to be the medium through which girls both North and South may give each other happy thoughts and charming suggestions about presents which are to be made for the next Christmas holidays. May I quote a bit from your letter, dear Tillie T.? It may give some of the girls an idea on which they may like to act. Tillie says: "With the help of two of my friends I am making a hospital box. Can you tell me some children's hospital to send it to? And is it a very childish thing to do? For we really enjoy making the things, as well as thinking of the pleasure they will give the children later. We have made cambric scrap-leaves, paper dolls with dresses of tissue-paper, a menagerie and circus of paper animals, and over sixty colored paper dolls--the sort which have dresses to come off."

Perhaps somebody can suggest an addition to Tillie's already generous list. St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children, West Thirty-fourth Street, New York city, will be very glad to receive any gifts which our readers would like to send to it.

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The poor patient mules that drag the train-cars far down in the mines rarely enjoy the light of day. Sometimes intervals of years pass before they are brought to the surface, and far below in the dense darkness of the mines they toil from month to month, seeing no light other than that of the miners' flickering lamps.

Recently some mules that had for a number of years hauled the trains in the lower tunnel of a coal-mine were brought to the surface. The strong light of the sun dazzled them, and every one kept his eyes closed tightly, and when they were released in a pasture a little distance away they halted trembling and astonished, even fearing some harm. For a long time they remained so, occasionally opening their eyes half-way, and finally, towards sundown, they broke into joyous brays. Afterward they ran around, jumped, kicked, and rolled on the grass as if mad. The delight of freedom, the sun, and the pure air were more to them than the food they refused to eat when it was put before them.

ON BOARD THE ARK.

BY ALBERT LEE.