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The Cju‘ibou.

THERE has been considerable dispute of late
years among naturalists as to the identity of the
subject of our picture—the American Caribou—
with the Reindeer of Lapland.

The question seems to
ever, by the testimony of Judge Caton, of Illi—
nois. a rich and enterprising natu 'alist, who has
made a s )ecialty of studying all our American
deer, wit a view of finding out their aflinities
with the deer of the old world. Judge Cafon.
in his recent work, “ The Antelope and Deer of
America,” gives the result of some forty years
of patient study of these animals. Being a man
of means, he has been able to keep a large deer
park, in which he has had ext-:‘v species of
American deer: and he has paid visits to En-

brokcn to harness on this continent by any of

I the Indian tribes. before the advent of Europe-

rope with the express object of identifying the ,

representatives of the family in the old world.
Judge Caton’s testimony is Very full. and
shows that the Reindeer of Lapland and the
Caribou of Maine and Labrador .- real}: one
and the same s ecies, modified only by rt sf knee
in different climates. The appearance of the
animals is very similar and their anatomical
structure identical. There is no evidence, how-
ever, to prove that the Caribou had ever been

fave been settled, how- ‘

ans, and the only instances on record since that»
period have been as a matter of amusement.

The Caribou is found in herds, varying; fro u
ten or twelve to many hundreds, in British
America, while a few can be met with in the
winter at the extreme north of Maine.

There are two distinct varieties, differing in
size, and known as the “'oodland and Barren
Ground Caribou. The latter is only found in
the extreme recesses of the Hudson’s Bay Terri-
tory and on the shores of the Frozen Ocean.

The subject of our picture is the lVoodland
Caribou, the staple game for the Indians of
Labrador, where it is as plentiful as it is scarce
elsewhere. Professor Hind. of Toronto, gives

the following animated story of an Indian Car— ,
His .

ibou hunt, as told by the Indian himself.
name was Michel. The professor savs:

“ It appeared that last winter Michel and two ‘

of his cousins had been stationed near Caribou
Lake by Domenique to watch for Caribou, and
prevent them from taking a certain )ath OVcr
precipitous rocks which they were moon to
frequent, and over which the hunter could not
follow them swiftly enough when only a little
snow was on the ground. The object of the
hunter was to drive the Caribou through a fa—
vi_>rable pass, which would make the death of

' 0:30

THE L'ARIlliJL.’ HEATERS.

some of them a matter of certainty. Michel,
when we first saw him on the mound, was men—
tally reviewing the incidents of that day’s hunt,
and indicating with the undulatory motion of
his hand the direction the Caribou had taken.

The story which he was telling related to a sin— ‘
gular incident which happened to himself. He ‘

had been watching for some hours with his com—
panion, when they heard the clatter of hoofs
over the rocks. Looking in the direction from
which they least expected Caribou would come,

. of wolves, making directly for t e spot where

they were lying. They were not more than 300
yards away, but coming with tremendous
bounds, and fast increasin the distance between
themselves and the wolves, who had evidently
surprised them only a slzort time before. Nei-
ther Michel nor his cmnpanion had fire-arms,
but each was provided with his bow and arrows.
The deer came on; the Indians lay in the snow
ready to shoot. The unsuspecting animals dart-
ed past the hunters like the wind, but each re—
ceived an arrow, and one dropped. Instantly
taking a fresh arrow they waited for the wolves.
“'ith a long.r and steady gallop these ravenous
creatures followed their prey, but when they
came within ten yards of the Indians, the latter
suddenly rose, each discharged an arrow at the
amazed brutes, and sum-ceded in transfixing one

with a second arrow before it got out of reach.
Leaving the wolves. they hastened after the
Caribou. ‘There,’ said Louis. 'quite close to
that steep rock, the Caribou which Michel had
shot was dead: he had hit it in the eye. and it
could not go far. Michel stopped to guard his
Carillon, as the wolves were about: one ol‘ his
cousins went after the deer he had hit. the other

f went back after the wolves which had been

wounded. The wolf-cousin had not gone far

 back when he heard a loud yelling and howling:
they saw two Caribou pursued b a small band ‘

He knew what the wolves were at: they had
turned upon their wounded companion, and
were quarreling over the meal. The Indian ran
on. and came quite close to the wolves. who
made so much noise, and were so greedily dc-
vouring the first he had shot. that he approach-
ed quite close to them and shot another. killing
it at once. The Caribou-cousin had to go a long
distance before he got his deer.’ ”

One peculiarity about the Caribou, which it
possesses in commonwith the Lapland Reindeer,
and which distinguishes it from all other ani-
mals ot' the deer kind, is that the females have
antlers. They are small. it is true. but are none
the less antlers. The dead Caribou in our pic—
ture is a female, as these small antlers denote.
for were it a buck, it would have Very large and
spreading branches palmated at the tips.

The two hunters in our picture appear to be

 

enjoying themselves after their days chase over
a pot of hot coffee by the -amp—fire: and we can
assure our readers that this eoil‘ee, though un-
provided with cream and made in a tin: mug,

‘ tastes better to the young fellow in the center

than any that llelmonico ever supplied.

This young man is evidently used to Canadian
woods. as well as the old com-cur Ilu ()ois who
sits opposite, for no greenhorn would be out
there on snow—shoes, such as those that rest
against the tree behind him. He would be laid
up in the first half-day‘s tramp with SWelled
ankles—“mul (Ic raqucffe ” as the French Cana-
dians call it. Both he and the guideare provid—
ed with the latest breeclrloading rifles, and look
as if they knew how to use them. After their
cup of coffee they will probably set up a bark or
branch shelter against the wind, and sleep With
their feet to the tire in spite of the snow, as
soundly as any of our readers in their snug beds.

It is surprising. indeed, to those brought up in

‘ the midst of' civilization. to note under what cir-

cumstances human beings can pass comfortable
nights. The presence of snow and cold does not
deter an old hunter from his camp, while spruce
b« lig‘hs are plenty: and dry wood can be cut out
of" the heart of a tree even when the bark is soak-
ing wet. Of one thing: our 1‘ ‘aders can be sure

that the men in our picture are enjoying them- Q)

selves hugely. and there let Us leave them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

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THE YOUNG TRAMP.

BY CHARLES F. ADAMS.

 

 

Hello, than stranger! Whnr ver from?
Come in and make yerself for mu!
We're common folks, ain’t much on style;
Come in and stop a little while;

’Twun‘t do no harm tor rest yer 501110.

Youn ter. ver pale, and don’t look well!
\\'liiit,gsw11_v from Bostingff Naow, dew tell!
“'hy, that's a hundred mile or so;

What started yer I’d like ter know

On sich a trump; got goods tet‘ sell?

No home, no friends! Naow that’s too bad!
“'all, cheer up, boy, and don’t be sad—
Wife, see what er can find to eat,

And at the co ee on for heat~

We’ fix yer up all right, my lad.

W‘lling ter work, can’t get a job,

And not a penny in yer fob? ‘
Wall, mow, that's rough, I dew declare.
What, tears! Come, youngster, I can t bear
Tor see yer take on so, and sob.

w came or so bad off, my son?
gather was’killedl ’sho’! wharf Bull Run?
Wh , I was in that scrimmage, lad,-

An got used up, too, pretty bad;
I sha’n‘t forgit Old ‘sixty-one!

So yer were. left in Bosting, hey?

A baby when he went away—

Those Busting bovs were plucky, wife,
Yer know one of ’em saved my life
Else I would not be here today.

‘Twas when the “Black Horse (‘avalcade "
Swept down on our small brigade,

I got the shot that made me lame,

\Vhen down on me a trooper came.

And this ‘erc chap Sll‘lll‘k up his blade.

Poor feller! He was stricken dead:
The trooper‘s saber cleaved his head.
Joe Billinzs was my comrade‘s name,
He was a Bus-ting boy. and game!

I almost wished l'd dicd. instead.

“’hy, lad! what makes yer tremble so?
Your father! what. my comrade, Joe?

And you his son? t‘ome ter my heart!
My home is yours; l‘ll trv, in part,

To pay his boy the debt Iowc.

Gasnar, the Gaucho:

LOST ON THE PAMPAS.

A TALE OF THE GRAN CHACO.

 

 

BY CAPT. MAYNE REID,

AUTHOR or “THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN,” “THE
SCALP-HUNTERS." " AFLOAT 1:“ THE
FOREST,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER XXVII.
A COUNTERFEIT CRANE.

GASPAR allows no time to be lost, but instant-
ly commences taking measures for the gut-20-
neando~whateverthat may be. As yet neither
of his youn companions has been told what it
is, though t ey soon begin to have a guess.

“'hile they stand watching, they see him once
more plunge his hand into those capacious sad-
dle-bags, where for a time It rummages about.
“'hen drawn out again. it is seen to grasp a
folded bundle of soft goods, which, on being
shaken open, shows to be a shirt. N0 common
cotton thing, however, but an affair of the finest
linen, snow white, with an embroidered bosom
and ruffles; in short, his gala shirt, such as are
worn by gauchos when they appear at fiestas
and fandangocs.

“A pity to use my best camz'sa for such a
u ,” be observes, while in the act of un-
olding it. “ Still it won‘t likel get much

damage; and a. wash. with a bit 0 starch, will
set it all right again.”

Then turning to Cypriano, he adds: “Now,
sefiorito, be good enough to strip off everything,
and draw this over your shoulders.

Without a word of protest, or objection, the
young Paraguayan does as requested, and is
soon inside the holiday shirt; his own having
been laid aside, as also his jaqueta, calzoneras
and every other article of dress worn b _ him.

Meanwhile, Gaspar has been engag getting
read several other things for the chan e of cos-
tume intended; one Of these being a silk landker-
chief of a bright scarlet color, also taken out of
the inexhaustible alparejas. This he ties about
Cypriano’s neck, not as an ordinary cravat, but'
loosely folded, so asto expose a breadth of several
inches all round.

The gaucho’s next move is to snatch from off
the fire one of the fagots still onl half consum-
ed: from which with his knife e scrapes the
red coal, leaving the surface black, at the same
time paring the stick to a sharp point. With
some wet gun owder he further blackens it;

 

then placing t e thick end against Cypriano’s .

forehead, he binds it fast with a. piece of raw-
hide thong, the last carried around and firmly
knotted at the back of the neck.

A few more touches and the toilet is complete;
transforming Cypriano into what, at a distance,
might be supposeda soldier—crane! At all events,

the ostriches will so suppose him, as Gaspar t

knows, for he is but copying a scheme often
practiced by South American Indians for the
capture of these shy birds.

“ Mug] bien!” he exclaims, as he stands con-
templating his finished task. “By my word,
muchacho mio, you look the character to per-
fection. And if you act it cleverly, as I know
you can and will, we’ll make breakfast on some-
thing better than beans. Now, senorito, you’re
in costume to go arzoneundo.”

Long ere this, ‘ypriano has come to compre- 2
hend what is required of him, and is quite eager 3
to have a try at the ruse so cunnineg contrived. 1
himself ready to start out, it but res ,

Declarin
mains to decided what weapon he ought to
take with him. For they have the three kinds
-—gun, bolas and lozo ; and in the use of the two
last he is almost as skilled as the gaucho himself.

“The gun might be the readieét and surest,” 1,
remarks Gaspar; "and it will be as well to have ‘
one with you, in case of your not getting a good ,i

chance to cast either of the others. But just
now the less noise that’s made the better. Who

knows but that some of these traitorous red- 1
Hearing j

skins may be still straggling about?
shots they’d be sure to come up to us, which we

don’t want, though ever so much wishing to ;
come 11 with them. Therefore, I say, use either 5

the bal s or the rope.”
“All the same to me," observes the young
Para a an. Which do you think the better?”
“T e alas, decidedly.
slip over an cstrich’s head, after the noose had

been round its neck. But once the cord of the ‘

bolas gets a turn round the creature‘s shanks,
it’ll go to grass without making another stride.
Take this set of mine.
boliadorr's, and you can throw them with surer
aim.”

_The weapon which the gaucho hands to him
differs from the ordinary bolas, in having a
longer stretch of cord between the balls: but

priano is himself as well acquainted with this
kind as with the other, and can cast them as
skillfully.

Taking hold of the weapon, along with his
doublebarrelcd gun, and concealing both as he
best can under the gaucho’s shirt, he starts off
upon the stalk; for he now knows what he has
to do, without an further instruction from
Gaspar. It is simp y a question of getting near

I’ve known the [(120 ,

As you see. they're best ‘

5 enough to one of the birds to make capture of it
l with the buliadaros; or failing this, brin it
1 down with a bulletrone barrel of lns gun ng
loaded with ball. _ _
. As he goes 08, Gas at and Ludwtg looking
I after him can see that is chances of success are
1 good.‘ For by this the rheas have pretty well
‘ recovered from their and are a ruin tran-
[ quilly striding about. It oreover, t may have
I moved somexshat nearer to the bank of the
riacho, where a bordering of leafy evergreens of-
fers to the stalker cover of the best kind. Taking
advantage of it, he, in the guise of a gal-zen,
steps briskly on, and steals in among the bushes.
There he is for a time unseen, either by those
watching him from the summit of the knoll, or
the creatures being stalked. The latter have al-
ready noticed the counterfeit, but without show-
ing any signs of fear; no doubt supposing it to
be what it pretends—ea bird as themselves, with
neck and legs as lon as their own. Butno one-
my; for often have hey over that same
plain, and fed in a Man w
dier-cranes—lscores ofi them. b th hr this
solitar s menaga’napears y es'tlhg
of theyscrptsg within less 51m twenty paces 0
them, they do not seem at all alarmed, though
possibly a little surprised at its being there all
alone.
, Nor do they make any attempt to stir from
| the spot, till a movement on the part of the
, garzon, with some gestures that seem odd to
them, excite their suspicious afresh; then rais-
ing their heads, and craning out their long
necks, they regard it with wondering glances.
Only for an instant; when seeming at last to ap-
. prehond danger, the birds utter a hiss. as if
about to beat a retreat.

 

For one of them it is too late, the cock which ‘

chances to be nearest the bushes. and who be-

fore he can lift a leg feels both embraced by ;

something which lashes them tightly together.

‘ while at t to same time something else hits him

a hard heavy blow, bowling him over upon the
grass. where he lies stunned and senseless.

“Bucno! Braro 1” simultaneously shout Gas-

, par and Ludwig, the two together rushing down

from the hillock, and on for the prostrate rhea;

t while the counterfeit crane comes forth from

, the bushes to meet them, as he draws near, say-

. m :
;  I could have shot the hen, but for what you
j said, Gaspar, about making a noise.”

“ N0 matte: for the hen,” rejoins the gaucho.
“We don't want her just now. This beauty
will not only 've us enough meat for breakfast,
but provide dinners and suppers for at least a
couple of days to come.”

SO saying, he draws his knife across the rhea’s
throat, to make sure before releasing its legs
from the thong. After which the boliudores
are detached; and the huge carcass, almost as
heavy as that of a fatted calf, is carried in
triumph tothe camp. 9 ’1‘

CHAPTER XXVIII. ,
THE AVESTRUZ. /

SOON after the trio of trackers have re-cnter-
ed the algarobia grove. a frizzling, sputtering
noise is heard therein: while an appetizin odor
spreads all around, borne afar on the lmy
breeze of the morning. Both the sound and the
smell proceed from some choice tidbits which
Gas ar has taken from the body of the great
bir —chiefly slices from the thigh-bone and
breast.

By the time Cypriano has defied the mas-
querading dress, and resumed his pro r travel-
ingcostume, the cooking is done, an breakfast
declared ready.

“'hile. eating it, by way of accompaniment.
they naturally converse about the bird. Not
the particular one which exclusively forms
their repast, but of ostriches in general, and
more especial] those of South America com-
monly called r as; though to the gauchos bet-
ter known by the name avestruz.

Both the boys are pretty well acquainted with
these birds and their habits; Cypriano having
several times taken part in their chase; while
Ludwig best knows them in a. scientific sense.
Still there are many of their ways and strange
ones, of which neither one nor t. e other has
ever heard, but that Gaspar has been witness to
with his own eyes. It is the gaucho, therefore,
who imparts most of the information, the oth-
ers beinglittle more than listeners.

“ Though the thing isn’t generally known,” he
says, “there are several distinct kinds of anes-
truz in different parts of the country. Of my-
self I’ve seen three. First, a. ver ' small sort,
not much bigger than a turkey coc . It’s dark-
er colored than the kind we’re eating, with
shorter legs and feathered further down. It
don’t lay so many eggs either; but, strange to
say, the are almostas big as those of the other
sort, on y differently shaped. and with a tinge
of blue on the shell. It, Isaw when I once went
on an expedition with the Buenos Ayres army

the climate is much colder than up here, and the
avesfruz pctise, as the bird’s called, seems tolike
that best; since it’s never seen on the warm
pampas further north.
sort we have here, which is the bi ,gest of all,

 

but goes all over the Chaco country, where it’s
hottest.

learned n at u ra (islas.
wig ?"

“ Indeed. yes. I never heard of a third spe~

pefisc; which, as you say. is only found far

south, ranging from the Rio Negro to the Straits :

of Magellan.”

though I don‘t kitOw much about the other two,
1y this we've met here.

as there are da 5 in the year.
been no end 0
whether several hens la y their eggs in the same
nest. Now, I can say for certain they do.

other. and on the same day too.
take them there if not to lay their eggs!
they drop them about everywhere, in a Very

loose. careless way: as can be told by their be- .
al

‘ ing seen scatter 1 over the compo. and far
from any nest.
tell; though I've heard some gauchos say that

these stray eg .—huachos we call them—are

upon. But that can’t be so, since the huachos
, are never found peeked or broken, but always
whole, whether they be fresh or addled. 1 think
it’s more likely that the hens drop these stray
eggs because they have no nest in \\ hich to put
; them: that where they have laid their others
being already full. Besides. there is the cock
‘ sitting upon it: who won‘t let any of them come
, near, once he has taken to hatching."
“ Is it. true. then, that the cock does the hatch—
ing?" interrogates Ludwig.
“Quite true—all of it: and he’s got a good

, many eggs to cover. I’ve counted over fifty in

one nest.

could have layed them; for, as it wo d take

her along time, the first ones would be rotten

before the last came. As for the cock when sit-
. ting, he’s as cross as an old duck doing the same,
but ten times more dangerous to go near. I‘ve
known of a gaucho getting a kick from one bed
started from Off the nest, almost as hard as if it
, had been given by a mule. And to hear them
. hiss then! Ah! that was nothing we‘ve just
i heard from this fellow.”

a clan de sol-r
Ev w

down south to the plains of Patagonia. There ;

0n the other hand, the .

never stravs down to these very co (1 districts, 

cics, though father has told me of the arcslruz :

“‘Vell.” continues Gaspar. res'uming his 210-.
count, “I‘m sure of thcre beiirr three sorts: ‘
h

Of them I ought to 7
now a good deal, having hunted them as often 7
One thing there’s ,
disputation about; and that is ‘

I've ,
§ seen several go to the same nest, one after the ’
“'hat should ;
True. 1

“’hat this is for I can’t myself 5

laid here and t ere for the young birds to feed 3

That of itself shows no sin le hen '

I “Is it true they can swim, Gaspar?” again
questions Ludwig.

“ Like swans. No. I’m wron there, for noth-
ingcan be more unlike. 80 or as the swim-
ming goes, the aveslruz can do it, but in quite a
different way from swans. They swmi with
thcii'bodles under water, and only their shoul-
ders, with the head and neck,alx)ve. It’sa fun—
ny si ht to see a. flock of them crossing one of
the b rivars; and scOI‘GIOf times I’ve beene e-
witness to that bit of comicality. Caram I
a curious bird, the avestruz is altogether, and a
useful one, as we’ve now good reason to know.
So, smion'los, let us be thankful to Providence
that there’s such a plenty of them on these
pampas, and, above all, for so guiding the ste
of this fine specimen, as to place it so dir y
and Op rtunely in our way. ’

The dicourse about ostriches is broughtto a
close with the breakfast upon that which had
led to it; b0 along with the incident of the
bird’s on re, aving occupied little more time
thanéis Itaken in telling of them. So little,
indeed, t t the sun’s disk is not yet all abovethe
horizon, when, having completed the repast, the
trackers start up from their seats around the
fire and proceed to caparisoning their animals.

Nor do they spend many moments at this.
EVer mindful of what has brought them thither
——no mere excursion for leasure’s sake, but an

fu necessity—the
be saved. Quick y, therefore, their horses are
got under saddle, and bridled, with every article
of their impedimenla fixed and fastened in its
respective place. besides. something on the croup
of Ludwig’s rermlo. which was not hitherto
there. “'herc the lost traps had been carried,
are now seen the two thigh-bones of the cock
ostrich, with most of the flesh still adhering,
each as large as a leg of mutton. There is a

 

1 wrap of the rihao, or wild plantain leaves,
which, tied in a secure 1mckct,dangles along-
side; the whole. as Gaspar declared, enough to

days.
But although everything seems in readiness,

ture from the lace. A matter remains to be
determined, an one of the utmost importance
—being no less than the direction in which they
should go. They have thou ht of it the night
before, but not till darkness ad come down up-
on them. Still unrecovered from the excite-
ment consequent on the attack of the mnoti,
and afterward occupied in drying t eir wet
garments, with other cares of the occasion, even
Gaspar had failed during daylight to examine
the nether side of the ford at its outcoming
where be supposed he might hit upon the trail
the were in search of. It was not because be
h forgotten it, but that, knowing they would
stay there all night, he also knew the tracks, if
anv, would keep till the morning.

Moruin having arrived, from earliest day-
break an before, as is known, they have been
otherwise occupied; and only now, at the mo-
ment of moving off, do they find time to look
for that which must decide their future course
and the route they are to take.

\Vith a. rting glance at the place of bivouac,
and each ending his own horse, they move out
of the al urobia grove, and on down to the edge
of the macho, stopping at the spot where they
came across. ,

But not a moment spend they there, in the
search for hoof-marks other than those of their
own horses. They see others soon as arrived at
the stream’s edge; scores of them, and made by
the same animals they have been all along
tracking. Not much in this it might appear;
since, unfortunately, these hoof-marks can be
distinguished no further than to the summit of
the sloping bank. Beyond they are covered up,
as elsewhere by the mud. But Gaspar’s keen
eye is not to be thus baflled; and a. joyful ejacu-
lation escapin his 1i , tells that he has dis-
covered somet ing w ich gives him gladness.
0n Cypriano asking what it is, he makes an-
swer: -

“Just what we’re wanting to find out; the
route the red-skins have taken after rting
from this place. Thanks to the Virgin, know
the way they went now, as well as if I’d been
alon with them.”

“ ow do you know that?” questions‘Cypria-
no, who, with Ludwig, had been examining the
Indian trail down by the water’s edge—apart
from the gaucho. who had followed it up to the
summit of the 810 .

“ Come hitherl’ he calls out. “ Look them!"
he adds, as they get beside him. “ You see that
these tracks have the toes all turned down-
stream; which tells me the horses did the same,
and, I should say, also their riders. Yes! Soon
as out of the water they turned down; proof
good as .itive that they’ve gone along the
riacho this side, and back again to the big river.
So it’s no use our dela ing longer here; there’s
' nothing further to be earnt, or gained by it.”

So says Gaspar; but Cvpriano. and also Lud-
wig, think ot erwise. Both have a wish—in-
deed, an earnest desire—once more to look upon
3 the tracks of the pony on which they know

 

 

while they return to search for them.
To their satisfaction they again beheld the

have escaped being trampled out by the horses
-. that came behind. And after regarding them

they are not yet prepared to take a final depar- 1

diminutive hoof-marks: two or three of which '

 

expedition forced upon t iem through sad, pain- 1
waste not a second that can ‘

heart, liver, and gizzard also stowed away in a ?

keep them provisioned for at least acouple of 7

t them.

 

 

Francesca to have been mounted. And commu- 7
. nicating this to the gaucho, he holds their horses ‘,
The third kind I’ve seen is in bulk 5
about midways between the two- but it‘s a Very ,
rare bird, and I believe not known to the;
Isn’t that so, Senor Lud- 3

i for a time with sad glances, Ludwig turns away 1

sighing, while his cousin gives utterance to
what more resembles a curse, accompanied by
words breathing vengeance against the abduc-
‘ tors.

their saddles; and. without further dallying,
ride off down the l iacho, to make back for the
main river.

the trail blind as before, with nothing to guide
them, ane the stream itself. To the gaucho.

horse‘s head 11 ward, he cries out:

“Now. muc aches mios.’ we must on to the
salitral ."’

And on for this they ride: to reach the point
where it commences, just as the sun‘s lower
limb touches. seeming to rest on, the level line
j of the horizon.

stretches far beyoud and before them. Greater
than ever is the gloom in their looks as they be-

it has been alto ther obliterated.

Gaspar only ows the place where it bewins:
this by the bank of the river which t ere
also commences its curve. turning abruptly
03 to the south. He thinks the route across
the salifral is due westward, but he is not sure.

to indicate the direction. Looking west, with
the sun’s disk right before their faces, they see

cheerless, with neither break nor bush, stick
nor stone, to relieve the monotony of its sur-
face, or serve as a land-mark for the traveler.

marsh-4n short, a part of the salilrul. To

 

Rejoining the gauche. all three mount into 3

Bu . 4 rain upon the latter’s bank, they find E

3 mounts above our heads, I def

1 pass off again we’re as good as lost.

 

 

pearance endless, with any chance or hope of
finding the way across it, would be like embark—
ing in an open boat, and steering straight for
the ocean.

Not on that night, anyhow, do they intend
making the attempt, as the darkniss will soon
be down upon them. Smlisinountiln,r from their
horses, they set about e’stablishing a camp.

But when established they take little delight
in its ocrupation. Now more than ever are
they doubtful and dejected; thinking of that
terrible tl'uresia, of which all traces are lost, and
none may be found beyond.

t

|
l
I

To C 'priano no 1

night since thblr starting out seemct so long as i

this.

Little dream they, while seated around their
cam fire, or lying sleepless alongside it, that
the fillet of country they so much dread enter-
ing 11 n, will ip a few hours’ time prove their
best riend. Instead of sending tl
astray it will ut them once more on _
trail, with no onger alikelihood of their again
losing it. ..

Unaware of this fortune before them,
they seek rest with eolings of the utmost de~

iem further .

lost ‘

spondency, and find sleep only in short snatches. j

CHAPTER XXIX.
ON THE SALITRAL.

NEXT morning the trackers are up at an early
hour—the earlier because of their increased
anxiet ——and after breakfasting on broiled os-
trich cg, make ready to recommence their
journey.

Nah-us volt-us, they must embark upon that
brown, limitle expanse, which looks unattrac-
tive in the light of the rising sun as it did-under
that of the setting.

In their saddles, and gazing over it before set- t

ting out, Gaspar says:
"Ilijos nu'os,‘ we can‘t do better than head
due westward. That will brin

us out of the .‘

solilml. somewhere. Luckily t ierc’s a sun in l

the sky to hold us to a straight course. If we
hadn't that for a guide, we might go zig-zag-

ging all about, and be obliged to spend a night ,
amidst the saltpeter: perhaps three or four of 1

sibly lose them. The thirst of itself would

'11 us, for there’s never drinkable water in a
salilral. However, with the sun behind our
backs, and we’ll take care to keep it so, there
won’t be much danger of our getting bewil-
dered. “'e must make haste though. Once it
Old Nick him-
self to tell east from west. 0 let’s put on
the best speed we can take out of the legs of our
animals.”

“'ith this admonition, and a word to his
horse, the gaucho goes off at; a gallop: the
others starting simultaneous] at the same
pace, and all three riding si e by side. For
on the smooth, open surface of the salitral there
is no need for traveling single file. Over it a
thousand horsemen—or ten thousand for that
matter—might march abreast, with wide spaces
between.

Proceeding onward, they leave behind them

To do so would be to risk our lives; j

 

three distinct traces of a somewhat rare and or— .

iginal kind—the reverse of what would be made
by travelers paming over ground thinly covered
with snow, where the trail would be darker
than the surrounding surface. Theirs, on the
contrary. is lighter colored—in point of fact.
quite white, from the saltpeter tossed to the top
by the hoofs of their galloping horses.

The gaucho every now and then casts a
glance over his shoulder, to assure himself of
the sun‘s disk being true behind their backs;
and in this manner they
ing up the pace at which they had started.

They have made somethin more than ten
miles from the (point where t ey entered upon
the salitral; an Gaspar begins to look inquir-
ingly ahead, in the hope of sightin a tree, ridge,
rock, or other landmark to tell where the trac~
esia terminates. His attention thus occupied,
be for awhile forgets what has hitherto been en-

'n it—the position of the sun.

In? when next he turns to observe the great
luminary, it is only to see that it is no longer
there—at least no longer visible. A mass of

press on, still keep— , nothjn

l

l
t

l

l

1

dark cloud has drifted acres its disk, complete- .

I; obscuring it. In fact, it was the sudden
arkening o the sky, and, as a consequence, the
shadow coming over the plain before his face,
which prompted him to turn round—recalling
the necessit of caution as to their course.

“ Santos ' 8!” he cries out, hisown brow be-
coming shadowed as the sky; “ our luck has
left us; and—”

“ And what?” asks Cypriano, seeing that the

ucho hesitates, as if reluctant to sa why

ortune has so suddenly forsaken them. “ here s
a cloud come over the sun; has that anything to
do with it?"

“Everything. sefiorito. If that cloud don‘t '

And,” he
adds, with eyes still turned to the east, his
lance showing him to feel the gravest appre-

cnsion, “ 1 am pretty sure it won’t iass off— :

for the rest of this day atall events. in: .’ It’s
moving along the horizon—still rising up and
spreadm out!”

The ot iers also perceive this, they too hav-
ing halted, and faced to eastward.

‘Sanfissima."’ continues the gaucho in the
same serious tone, “ we’re lost as if is new ."’

“ But how lost?” inquires Ludwig, who with

brought to an end, however, b (‘ypriano turn-
ing round to him, and giving t e explanation in
detail.

“ Don’t you see, subn'no mic, that one of us
can stay by the end of the trail we‘ve already
made, or two for that matter, while the third
rides forward? The others can call after to
keep him in a straight line and to the course.
The three of us following one another and the
last giving the directions from our trail behind,
we can’t ssiblylago astray. Thanks to that
white stl , our ell-tracks can be seen with-
out dimc’plty, and to a sufficient distance for our
pu - .

Long before Cypriano had refilled the end of
his explanatory discourse. Luz? of quick wit
too, catcheshis meaning, and th an enthusi—
asm equalin that of the gauche, cries out:

“ Viva, bogrino mio.’ You’re a genius!” |

Not a moment more is lost or spent u n that

t; Ludwig being the one chosen to end off,
t e gaucho following, with: long space between
them, while the rcar is brought up by Cypriano

. himself; 'who, for this go, and not Gaspar, acts

as ide and director.
0 BE comNUED—COIIENCED IN NO. 1.]

 

 

nmrrm’ G.

Fair head again“ In heart,
White hands held est in mine,
Sweet lips that barely part,
ly twine:

 

Soft arms that (on
As down the silent stream
We drift as in a dream.

The rustlin foliage near
Si *hs “it 1 a monrnful tone:
Il’ilgI 1 in the trees we hear
to south Wind's (lying moan:
Still down the silent stream.
We drift, and drifting, dream.

The sun sinks in the west;
'lhe wild fowl hurry by:
And passing to their rest,
They chant a lullaby:
While borne u )on the stream.
We gently (lll t, and dream.

The bittern's lonely cry
Comes faintly thro’ the night:
The wild swan far on h‘ h,
Pursues her silent flig t—
As down the uiet stream
We slowly dr' t, and dream.

Ah! should our voyage last,
Through all eternity,
Tia; arms to hold me fast
ould welcome fetters be:
Forever down the stream
To slowly drift, and dream 3— I '. E. P.

A Night In Siberia.

Being an Adventure that occurred in the Sea of
. Okhotsk.

“ LET’S go in with the boats, and have a look
along shore,” said Mr. Warren, the mate of the
Standard, as he came down from the mast-head.

“Can you et in do you think 1“ asked Cap-
tain Sayre. du iously.

“ Yes, sir, I think We can. This ice is open——
that is to say. open for a boat: and, as it’s .still
weather, there’ll be no trouble about passin
through it. I can see a strip of clear water. all
alon shore, between the ice and the land."

“ 'ell, go ahead then. if vou think there's
any chance of finding a whale insshore. There‘s
like trying, at nnv rate."

The and which lay before us stretching as
far as could be seen each way along the north—
ern board, was the settled re 'on of Siberia, on
the shore of the Sea of Okhots -—a sea. of which
the waters were then teeming with unwrought
wealth;' for, though a whaling- ound of com~
parativel small extent, it yiel ed immense re
turns to merican enterprise for many seasons
after it was opened.

The stream of drift-ice, extending in a line
parallel with the shore. was not more than
two miles in width and composed of pieces
of moderate size. “lith a fair working breeze.
the ship might have been pushed through it
without much danger. But at this time it was
nearly calm: and we did not care to stand
close in to the land, unless certain of finding
something to reward our efforts.

Our expedition of reconnoissance was soon
ready to move consisting of three lmts. in
charge of the three mates, the captain remain-
in on board.

e found the ice open enough for boats to
pass easily, and wound our way through it with-
out accident.

As Mr. “'arren had reported, a belt of clear
water was discovered beyond it, full half a mile
in width; and here we cruised, not together,
but with intervals of a mile or two between
the boats, keepingl a bright look—out for the
least break upon t e surface, that might indi-
cate the presence of a " bow-head.”

The water was smooth and still as that of
an inland pond when no wind disturbs it. The

 

 

 

: greatest caution and quiet were necessary; for

the whales had become exceedingly shy, from

, having been hunted for a week previously.
. almost without intermission.

his more limited experience of pampaslife. is .

puzzled to understand what the gaucho means.
‘ In what way !”

“ Just because there’s no way. That’s the
very thing we’ve lost, senorito. L<)ok around!
Now, can you tell east from west, or north from
south? No. not a single point of the compass.

But we don‘t, and, therefore, as I’ve said, we re
lost—dead, downright lost: and, for anything
beyond this, we’ll have to go a—groping. At a
crawl, too, like three blind cats.”

“Nothing of the sort!” breaks in Cvpriano.
who, a little apart from the other two, has been

1 down out of the “north-east gulf.”

Only the day before, a dozen ships had been
in sight near this spot, when the ice—stream set
They had
all shifted their ground, and we were left, for
the time being, alone.

The hours ad passed away up till noon: and

 only a finback or two had been seen. These
. were hardly game worthy of our steel: to say

‘ If we only knew one. that would be enough. ‘

‘ day.
- tinued,throwin the boat’s head round.

3 for the last few seconds to all appearance hold— .

however, this seems sufficient, and turning his 

ing communion with himself.
sort,” he repeats, riding toward them with a
cheerful expression.
groping, Gaspar, nor yet at a crawl. Possibly.
we may have to slacken the pace 3. bit: but that's

a .
Both Ludwig and the gaucho, but especially

, the latter. sit regarding him with puzzled looks.

And now, having arrived on the edge of the f
salitral, they make halt, still keeping to their 
saddles, with eyes bent over the waste which ‘
I ance and confident bearing.

hold the sterile tract, which should have shown ,
snow-white. all black and forbidding. For the ;
Sulilral. as all the rest Of the compo. is covered 1
with a stratum of mud. and the (raresia across i

For what can he mean?
which promises to release them from their di-
lemma, as can be told by his smiling; counten—
In fine, 8 is asked
to explain himself, and answering. says:
“ Look back along our trail. Don't you see
that it runs strai ht?"
“ “'e do," rep ies Gaspar, speaking for both.
“In a dead right line, thank the sun for that:

'. and I only wish we could have had it to direct

And there is no sign of road now, not a trace ‘

us a little longer, instead of leavin' us in the
lurch as it has done. But go on, senorito! I
on htn't to have interrupted you."

‘ “'ell," proceeds the young Para guayan.
“there’s no reason why we shouldn’t still travel
in that same ri ht line—since we can.”

“ Hal” ejacu ates the gaucho, who has now

“ \Ve’ll neither need to go ‘

, had brought with us.

Certainly something ‘

j gy turf-knolls.

, caught the other’s meaning, “ I see the whole ,

nothing but the brown, bald expanse. treelcss as ,

And the same thing both to the right and left, ;
far as their eyes can reach; for here the river, ;
after turning off, has no longer a skirting of ;
trees; its bank beyond being a low-lving saline 1

thing. Bravo, Senor Cypriano! You’ve beaten
me in the craft of the pumpas. But I‘m not
jealous—no. Only proud to think my own pu-
pil has sh0wn himself worthy of his teacher.
Gracias d Dios .'"

During all this dialogue, Ludwig is silent,
seated in his saddle. a very icture of astonish-
ment, alike, wondering at w at his cousin can

E mean, and the burst of jo ous enthusiasm it has

ride out upon that wildernem waste, to all up- i

elicited from the gaucho s lips. His wonder is

“Nothing of the 3

j might we wonder that a

nothing of the almost utter impossibility of
approaching them within striking distance.

“ The whales have all left,” said Mr. \Varren.
despondingly. “We shall do nothing here to-
Let’s go ashore and get dinner," be con-
“ Here
is a good lan ing-place: and we can keep a
look-out from this little hill.”

‘We hauled our boat up on the beach, and
selecting the driest- spot we could find for a pic-
1110 place, made our noonday meal of hard—tack
and cooked rations of " bovine mahogany " we
Then lighting our i s,
we started for a stroll to the to of a neigggr-
mg eminence: whence we mi t command an
extensive prospect seaward and along shore.

Patches of snow still lay unmelted in some
places, while the general nature of the soil at a
short distance inland was a series of heavy. sog-
From these the water squirted
up at every ste we took, as if they had been so
many saturat sponges.

Our impressions of the goodly realm of the
Czar Nicholas, judging from what we saw, were
not unlike th of the troo of Napoleon‘s
grand army, in the rei 0 his sire. Well
ussian—or any other

1 human being—should have the assurance to call

Russia “ a country.”

The lowland seemed to present naught else
but those everlasting clumps of water-log
turf, with here and there a belated snowdnft,
or a bowlder of volcanic rock. '

“'0 found it but little better tmveling as we
ascended the acclivity. Our boots sucked down
into the boggy ground, which added greatly to
the difficulty of the ascent. On gaining the

: summit, we perceived that the hill formed the

. the purpose of having a peep into them

headland of a small cove, which we had not
noticed while in the boat,

\Ve hastened onward to its further ve , fOr
mlet
beyond; the mate, with his 10 stri takin
the lead of the rest. n8 d“, g

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

.L‘ j.“

 

 

 

thB-‘ifirfim- “ I” '

I, all jumped over 11

gtheinh

 

 

 

 

Suddenly we saw him bait, and hold up both
hands, asif in an ecstasy of surprise.

“ No noise!” he cautioned us as we drew near.
“ Come on: look there!”

Down in the smooth cove below, a polar whale
of the largest class, an old “ cow” with immense
“arch,” and neat patches of white about the
spiracles, lay ing in the still water, within
dartin distance of the rocks at the base of the
hill. 0 us, perched almost directly above, she
presented a view of all her proportions and
movements, rarely attainable in the case of a
living whale.

Smothering our excitement, we stood in
silence, gazin down upon her; while, all un-
conscious of agar, she lay there breaking the
stillness by her slow, deep respirations and
scaling her immense tail to the right and left,
under water, in sheer rtiveness.

When at last she went down, she did so with

a. gradual slant; for there was not sufficient '

depth of water to admit of her “ turning flukes "
in the orthodox wav.

“ Come on, men!” said the mate.
the beach!”

We hurried back to our boat, pushed her out,

 

 

 

 

ed out formed a “lee,” or partial shelter from

the cold wind. Driftwood was collected, sufii- '

cient to keep a bonfire going through the night
as well as to floor off, or corduroy, an extent 0

the wet ground sufficient to form a sleeping :

place.

Our commissary department, it may be men-
tioned, was now at rather a low ebb. \Ve had ‘
come provided only for the day; and having but
a few fragments left after the dinner, long since '
eaten, we were obliged to fall back upon the
small reserve stock of hard bread, always car-
ried in the “ lantermkeg” of every whale-boat,
when in active service. “'9 knew that we
should not suffer for that night, at least; but we
also knew that our first businem next morning ’
must be to look out for provisions.

We were disappointed in finding that there
were no muscles or other shell-fish on the shore:
and as for vegetation—at least in any form that
would furnish food for hungr men—it would '

> have scorned to grow in such a ocality.

“Down to ‘

and paddled silently along shore. We allowed 3

her to drift into the cove, with the aid of an oc-

casional light paddledip; and choosing our po- .

sition with the best possible judgment, we re—
mained for a full hour in almost unbroken
silence.

But the placid surface of the basin was undis-
turbed by even a ripple; and though we had
also a clear view outSIde, no whale was to be
seen.

, which had set in nearer the shore, was cracklin

“Te were not so much surprised, for we knew ‘

that such a mysterious disappearance is no un—
common occurrence in polar whaling. I have
met with old Northern cruisers who stout] y be—
lieved that species of whale con (1 remain below
the surface for an indefinite period of time. or
as Ion as they chose to stay.

Sw owing our disappointment with what

grace we could, we cruised the greater part of ‘

the afternoon without seein anything to re
ward our efforts. The sky ad gradually be
come overcast, and a breeze from the eastward
blowing along shore. rippled the hitherto level
surface of the sea. The ship was still in sight in
the offing, heading in toward us: but the iii—
creasing mist threatened soon to hide her entire-
ly from our view.

The mate now set his waif as a signal for the
other two boats to close with us.

“ “'hat have you seen 5" he asked of each of-
ficer. as soon as they came within hail.

“ Nothing—but finbacks,” was the answer
from both. The only bow-head seen during the
day was the one of which we had had so tantal-
izin a view from the headland on the shore.

“ could look right down into her spout—holes
and see ’em wink!" said Mr. lVarren with ro-
fessional enthusiasm. “It was the est Sight
I ever saw in my life! But she went down, and
that’s the last of her. I don’t like the change of
weather,” he continued, “ and I think the soon—

er we all put off the better, if we mean to sleep 1

on board to-ni t. “'e can see the ship now;
but we ma ’t able to in another hour. Oars,
men! Pul ahead!”

We shot rapidlIv; out toward the stream of
drift-ice, under t e

impulse of long, regular ‘

strokes of the oars, the officers keeping their 1
eyes steadily fixed upon the ship, that was now ,

onl dimly visible.

he second-mate‘s boat, bein
than the others, at once took 1 , and was well
into the ice~field before we reached the nearest
edge of it. The ice was alread
we entered it, and the boat 0
third-mate, was close in our wake.

tween the pieces, but the whirl and agitation of
the fragments was every moment increasing in
violence.
rent, as well as by the wind. which was fast
freshening.

“ \Vhat do you think about it, Mr. Grover?”
hailed Mr. lVarren, speaking to the third-mate.

“ That we had better get out of it, the shortest
way ” was the not very encouraging answer.

“That will be by putting back, then,” said
Mr. \Varren. “ We are not half-way through
it vet. “'here's Mr. Lawrence's boat .3"

He asked this question, because we had been
so entirely occupied with our own tortuous
course, that we had lost the run of the second-
mate.

“There she is,“ answered Mr. Grover‘s boat-
steerer, pointing with his hand. “ She’s almost
through it."

much faster ?

, portant necessity.
in motion when 1
Mr. Grover. the ,

We finished our supper—the bill of fare bein
strictly a felon’s diet, bread and water-an
posted ickets, not forgetting to have our lan— -
ces an harpoons conveniently at hand; for we
had seen the tracks of some monstrous animal,
which we had no doubt was the dangerous polar

Having taken these precautions, we wrapped I
our ‘ackets about our bodies and stretc ed
ourse ves round the bonfire, like old campaign- ‘
ers

The wind was raw and chill, despite the flimsy
“ lee" afforded by the boats’ sails; and the ice,

and grinding all night, in the short ch( raise
by the fresh breeze. There was little eep for
any of us: the dormitory bein decided] ' too
airy, to say nothin of its humidity, whic was
extreme for the latitude of fifty-nine.

Yet with the usual reckless and light-hearted
jollity of seamen, our recent peril in the ice-
drift was now made light of ; and even our lone- ‘
ly situation on that sterile shore, with the uncer-
tainty as to how long we might be imprisoned
there. furnished food for jokes and laughter to
the more thoughtless among us.

" I suppose t e old man has given us all up for
lost." remarked one of the bovs.

" Of course he has. If Mr. Lawrence got 2
aboard safe. he would report- us rightin the mid-
dle of the ice-field.

“This beats Kelp," said the mate. “ We used
to have some scrapes in the Kelp, on the south— ‘
ern right~whaling voyages: ch, Mr. Grover?”

“ Yes, sir. But we’re all right. with the land
under our feet now; and we can‘t be here man
days without seeing some ship, if not our own. ’

“Even if we don’t, I suppose we shall find a
Russian settlement somewhere within a hun-
dred miles along the shore,” remarked Mr. \Var- l
ren. -

“ I wish a polar bear would come about,” said
the third-mate. -

“ “'hy so I” asked several of the party.

“ We‘d kill him. and get some provisions. ,
“'hat would not a hungry man fight for, if not j
for his rub?” -

But l r. Grover‘s desires were not destined to
be gratified, for no bear came near us. Doubt—
less the unwonted phenomenon of a blazing bon-
fire—to say nothing of twelve men grouped
round it—was sufficient to keep bruin at a re- 
spectful distance.

The short night wore awa without any ad-
venture: and W1“) returning aylight came the ,
thought of provisions, as the first and most im- j

We dispersed on a sort of unorganized foray, !
in search of anything that might be eatable; but ‘

, soon came together again at our night camping- I
For some time we worked our way along be— .

1 that did not furnish much ad ition to our stock.
It seemed to be acted upon by a cur— ,

Our situation was momentarily becoming,

more desperate, as the pieces of ice, grindinr
against each other. barred our progress and
threatened our frail boat with destruction. The
mate looked, first seaward, then landward; bal—
ancing in his mind for a moment the chances of
“shi or shore." He spoke at length, as if his
min had been fully made up as to what we
should do:

“Lay round. Mr. Grover, and pull for the
shore again. That's our best chance!“

This chan e of movement ve the third—
mate‘s boat t e lead; and we f0 lowed, keeping
asclose as possible to his steeriu -oar. But at
times the opening through which e had passed,
would close before we could enter it.

Several times, as the boat was in danger of
being steel—trapped, as it were, between two
large pieces of ice, at a word from the officer we

11 the ice, lifting her b the .

gunwales, and at t e same time stamping o the ,

edfials of the ice with our heavy boots.

place, nearly as empty-handed as when we set ’
out. The mate had shot a. con is of small birds;

We had only one gun with us, and but a few ‘i

_' department shou

E u typos‘”

1 well—authenticated records
. of one called the Portfolio, published as early
. as the year 1812, by a youth named Ccndie. At
,‘ present there are many amateur journals in ex-

‘ next to impossible, so

3 tor; Amateur Herald, Amateur Newspaper Reporter,
' Wear Bros, editors; Amateur Mercury, L. W. Beau

‘Ainateur. Charles Steele. editor; Boys‘

I Star, Lawrence. editor; Editor‘s Eye, Clarence P. l in the cage‘ and his song has cheeredso many

‘ tors; National Amateur, Clem Chase, editor; Our
: Enterprise, Our American Youth, Richardson Bros,
, Mutual Friend, Odds and Ends, Phoenix, R. H. Born,

‘ editor; Pierian, Pearl, hill,
1 Quaker City Gem, Sty us, Art. J.

- Academy, Western Boys, W. H. Reynolds, editor;

; and the names of all others received wil be ub-
; lished in succeedin issues. The youngest e itor

charges of powder and shot. Some other source .

of sup ly must, therefore, be found, and that ’

soon, or we began to feel the fear of starva-
tion.

l

No ship was yet to be seen: for the mist con- 

cealed everything beyond a radius of a mile or
two. But the ice, from its agitation and attri-

fra ments. and might now be
wit safety.

In our wanderings on the beach we came upon
many pieces of shi timber, stavesof casks, iron—
work. nnd other re ics of wreck. “Ye knew that
these were of the whale—ship Houqua, which had
been totally lost on that coast the vear before.

passed through

I a magazine.

 

i

' thews, 20 years.

 

 

(.‘orrespoudence papers, etc., intended for this
ld be addressed to Junius W. C. ,
Wright, 530 Rayburn avenue, Memphis, Tenn.

Boys and Their Journals.

OF all indoor amusements perhaps none has T
grown so steadily in popular favor of late years 
as amateur printing. The introduction of cheap 1

~ printing-presses laid the foundation for one of
- the most pleasing, and at the same time in- ,
, structive, pastimes in which Young America s
3 has ever engaged. One of the list results of
E these embryo efforts in the “ art preservative of

all arts ” was the publication of miniature news- ‘
papers. edited and published by the young .

From its beginning, in a few tinyI
and insignificant sheets, the “ mimic press ” has 1
gradually extended into a large and recognized '

: branch of popular literature, to which many i
- of the rising generation are at present devoting
, their leisure time.

Before the invention of these amateur printr
ing-machines but few of our young folks could
afford to issue a newspaper, however small: but
that a few such journals did exist is proved b
, and mention is ma e

istence, but to make an accurate list would be
uickly do they appear
and disappear. The to owing is a list of the
principal amateur papers now published, with
the names of their youthful editors, where they ‘
could be obtained. 1

Amateur. W. B. Henry, editor; Amateur Argus, ,
Amateur Blade, Anchor, C. E. Hellings, editor; As- }
irant, Aldine, F. M. Morris, editor: Apex, Amateur :
owan. Warren Moore, editor; Amateurs‘ Journal, 
Carroll Bros, editors: Advertiser, Arba Borden, edi- ;

 

Henry Kahrs, editor; Amateur World. Advertiser, ‘

bien, editor: Advertiser. J. D. Nutt, editor; Buffalo 1
Gazette,

Harry J. Calvert, editor: Boys and Girls" Companion, ‘
Beacon, Bluff City Boys. Sam 11. Nook, editor: Boys ‘

, of Gotham, Isaac Davis. editor; Buckeye Hcrald,

Bovs' News, Berea Gazette, Boys‘ Courier, Bee, J. ‘
Milner \Valmsley, editor: Centennial, W. F. Bab-

cock, editor; Composing Stick, Geo. W. Biehn, edi- 1
for; Critic and Observer, " Netos,“ editor; Crisis, J.
('. Worthington, editor; Eastern Sunbeam, Frye;
Bros, editors; Egyptian Star, W. L. Wn'zht. editor; ‘
Echoes of the Board, Sam Clover, editor: Eastern ,
Dresser, editor:

Elmira Enterprise, Miss Libbie

. Adams, editor, Enterprise, Hoosmr Enterprise, A. L.

Kitselman, editor: Imp. J. Edson Briggs, editor; Idle 1
Hour, Kramer, editor; Independent Times, Juvenile
Press, J. J. Weisert, editor; Jersey Amateur Journal,
Knight Errant. Eugene E. Ellis. editor; Kaleidoscope,
A. P. Perry, editor' Leisure Moments, W. R. Jack- .
son. editor; Little Critic, Percy Monroe, editor; Lil- 3,

‘ li utian, Little Gem, Mlcrocosm, Metropolitan, Chas.

Fickc, editor; Monthly Critic, Michigan Excelsior, '
North Carolina Amateur, Carr and Sutherland. edi-

Own Journal, Young, editor; Our Free Blade, Our
editors; Our Sanctum, Olio, Oak City Item, Our

L. Gronauer, editor;
Huss, editor;
Sponge. Southern Star. E. A. Oldham, editor; Talis-
inan,H. K. Merritt, editor: Temperance Echo, The

Welcome Visitor, Thos. G. Harrison, editor; Wise
and Otherwise, Yankee Blade, F. H. Sheldon, editor;
Fiery Comet, Favorite, Florida Advertiser.

The above is as nearly complete as ible,

 

in the ranks is J. Milnor Walmsley editor of the
Bee, Philadelphia, he being but thirteen years
of age. His 'ournal is very readable. The
Amateur, of Hrooklyn, is the oldest and largest

aper. it having been started in April, 1873.

Vith its December issue it will be changed into
Amateur journalism is not c011—

5 fined to young folks only, as some of the editors
tion during the night. was broken up into smaller ’

But her debris was of little use wins; the (lis- '
covery of a seal, or a bed of muscles, would have

been much more to our liking.

After our very meager breakfast we pushed '

the boats afloat, and manned our oars for a pull
along shore.

A couple of miles brought us near the base of
a lofty bluff, which we had visited about a week
before. when we had climbed it for birds’ eggs.
To our disappointment we found that we could
not now approach it with the boats near enough
to land.

' Errant, Cairo, 11]., is oreman on the Evening

' H. K. Feather, is another of the late amateur
: books, and one which reflects credit on both an-

The cliff towered several hundred feet above ‘
our heads, a bulwark of sterile rock, startling in =

its rugged sublimity. At its base a confused

wil est confusion, some of them of vast size. .

They had evidently fallen down from the sea-

face of the cliff, having been split off at various 1
times by the intense frosts of Arctic winters. =
Among these the chopping sea was dashing with e

considerable force, grinding up the lumps of ice

‘ that came in contact with them.
\Ve saw that it would never do to risk our '

us we would drag her ovefi' into a clear I
space to jump in again and u for the next ,
y p , had to rest on our oars, and take counse to- 3

_ available opening.

It was a case of life and death with us; for

none of us needed to be told, that if our boats .

were crushed between the moving fragments,
our lives would be hardly worth stru ling for.
We knew that but a half-inch of
was between us and eternity!

1 distance, and try the of the ice, hopin i
3 we might now get sight of fife cg

ar-board ‘ as we advanced were astonished ;

boats in attempting to land; and reluctant] we

gether as to our next movement.

. ton. Make your choice, gentlemen.

' little book, of 23 pages, by Richard Gemer. It

It was at length decided to pull out a short .

ship. We head

seaward, and

. at the change which had been produced by a i

For the distance of half a mile or more We ,
thus fought for our lives. All our efforts did
not save the frail structures from being nipped; 5

hn .

Anif when at last we placed them once more
in open water, heading leisurely back toward
itable Siberian shore we had lost all
taco of t e ship, as well as of the second-mate’s

t

Night was approaching, and a thick mist set-
tling down upon the sea. A gun was heard:
but it conveyed to us only a faint, rumbling re-

fit; and we had no means of answering it, at ‘
t

distance.

'- got-1gb we were still able to keep them afloat by ;

i

i

l

The danger of our situation, while bescf in the _
ice«field, may be better understood when it is 3
considered, that, although the stream has, of *
course, one general set or drift, yet its various 1

fragments. acting upon each other, give and re—
ceive deflective motions more or less eccentric,
and often rotatory. Thus their relative posi-

tions are constantly changing, new passages ,

opening between them, and closing as suddenly

aqupened.
efelt considerable anxiety about the fate of ;

Mr. Lawrence and his crew. When last seen,
We thought his chance of making his way through
was at leastas good as ours of reaching the open
water in-shore. We were not uneasy about the

ship; for in this case there were no pieces of ice 3

hmvy one
they might jure her by superficial chafing.
We carried our battered and leaky boats up

'high on the shoreumd, takingrout the loose

craft, turned them )ttom up. he masts were

planted firmly in the earth, and the sails stretch-

Q31—.

h to endanger a stout vessel, though *
‘ books.

few hours” agitation. We met with no ice pieces .
of any size, but such as could be easily avoided; :

while the greater part of the field appeared to
have become almost pulverized.

We went dashing and rattling along among
the reduced masses, and ere man minutes were
electrified by the cry of “
Mr. Grover’s boat, that was some distance
ahead. '

The mist had thinned a little, and there was
the ship, hove—to, within a mile of us!

We were soon assured of the fact that it was 1
our own ship, for we knew every patch in her ‘
An involuntary cheer was ‘
E sent up simultaneously from both boats. and

well—worn topsails.

ina few minutes after we were alongside the
Standard.

I Press Association, which convened at Chi
J in July last, as fraudulent.
, votes were cast for Jos. P. Clossey, with which
E be was not credited. However, it fails to prove
il, 0!” from i

. Should he find a suitable location, he wi 1 remain

hea )of bowlders were massed together in the g there.

, Brother, the well-known ~amateur newspaper

are men of twenty-four and five, though seldom
older, most of w om became interested in the
cause earlier in life.

So much for the journals; next week we will
give an article on “ BOOKS AND AUTHORS,”
which will be read with interest by both old and i
young.

Notes.
AMATEUR printers are invited to send speci-
mens of their work for criticism.
EUGENE E. ELLIS, ublisher of the Knight

Argus, a professional daily at that place.
“ ADA; a Tale of Flirtation and its Folly," by

thor and publisher.

TVILL C. AIKEN, formerly publisher of the
celebrated Our Galaxy, of Cleveland, Ohio, is
away out in Los Angeles, Cal, “pros cting,”

AMONG those who will robablybe candidates
next year for the Fresh eiicy of the National
Amateur Press Association are: Delevan W.
Gee, Jos. P. Closse , Geo. \V. Biehn, \Vm. Bar-
rett Henry, Art. . Huss and J. C. VVorthing.

“A DREAM of the Past” is the title of a neat

is one of the most interestin and well-rendered

ms we have yet seen, an is quite a credit to
its author. The typographical portion of the
work is finely executed, by H. A. Granbery 8;

printers.

THE Independent Timcs has created uite a
sensation by declaring the election of "i m. T.
Hall to the Presidency of the National Amateur

It states that two

 

its assertion, which is perhaps what Hall would

f call “ an advertising dodge."

We found the second mate and his crew safe v

on board. As expected, he had, of course, re
ported us as being in the middle of the ice-field

when last seen: and the captain had passed a 1
sleepless night, tortured with anxiety as to our :

fate, while we were quite safe on ferra firma,
though not by any means snug.

\Vc had, in truth, passed a most miserable
night in Siberia—almost as miserable as the
French soldiers could have been at MOSCOW.

ALEXANDER DUMAB, JR., has avery small
library, a single book-case containing all his
They include Homer, Dante, Shaks-
peare, Montai rne, Moliere, and a verv few oth-
ers. Before al stands the Bible, which is the
book that Dumas studies the deepest and reads 1‘
with the greatest pleasure. ‘

' could not afford to pay one cent

THE amateur ress—ever the enemy of “blood 
and thunder ” literature~will gladly welcome ‘

I THE YOUNG NEW YORKER as a respectable and :

interesting paper for boys and girls. The en-
terprisingl publishers, neglectin no means to
procure t at which will i'ove 0 interest to its ‘
readers have opened this department, which it ‘
is he will prove a leading feature of the pa- .
per and receive the hearty support of the ama-
teur fraternity.

IN the earlier part of the present year an order
was issued by the head of the post-office depart-
ment, instructing postmastcrs to refuse to mail ;
amateur journals at the regular newspaper rates L
of two cents per pound. The average publisher
ge on each
co y of his paper, am a genera stagnation re 3
sulted, while letter after letter was sent to the ‘
Postmaster-General full of cxpostulations and ‘
entreaties. Finally, the injustice was corrected
by a recent rescission of the order, and amateur I

‘ affairs move smoothly along once more.

DEATH has invaded the amateur ranks quite
often of late, and it becomes our sad duty to rc- I
cord the following: Will A. Fiske, of the old .
Brilliant, at Goldwater, M ich., in the 25th year 1
of his age; Samuel L. (f. Morris, of the Young ;
Democrat, at Greensburg, Pa., in his 18th year; ‘

4 they rest in peace.

‘1 haps not generally known.

< advance in t e

 

 

 

ford, in his 20th year, both of the old Leader; ‘
and TV. D. Oakley, 21 years, and Fred V. Mat- 
both of Leisure Moments. the j
_ four last named having died at Memphis, Tenn., ‘
May ‘

during the late yellow-fever epidemic.

American Hunting Grounds.

Birds of Long Island.

I.
THE GBOSBEAKS.
Or this family the rose-breasted is worthy of
ial mention.
rich, rolling song.
ed by the approach Of man she darts off into
concealment, almost sure to be followed by her
ardent spouse, solicitous for her safety, bent up-
on reassuring her by his presence and caresses.

THE BOBOLINK OR RICE BIRD.

The bobolink comes to us in May. He comes
all glorious with song and nearly ready to mul- :
tiply his kind. The change of plumage with E
the finishing of the duties of reproduction is :.

rapid and complete before the return movement

is made, although this takes gace in August. .

They pass southward again in tember, song-
less, and find their home in the “ est Indies, and
even further South. As soon as the season re-

laxes once more, in March, they will re—enter 
The ‘

the United States and do it all over again.
Atlantic coast is the favorite highway of this
species, but it travels also by other routes in the
interior.

THE FINCH FAMILY.

person of the rose-breasted glrosbeak. Amon
13

its other members is found e pine linnet. It

frequents the pine trees. but occasionally de— -
scends to the weeds and thistles, acting pre- ‘
it has 3
, an agreeable song, in a lower voice t an the ‘
l yellow bird. Like it, it has the habit of sing-

cisely like the yellow bird. In sprin

‘ mg in a lively, rambling sort of way for an 1

hour or more at a time.

The lesser i'ed poll linnet is a winter bird, 

and during that cold season makes its migra-
tion from the South. About the middle of
April it takes its de )arture, returning again in
November or Decem r.

The purple finch remains with us until the .
‘ severity of winter bwomes unendurable.

known to need more than mention. v
reader has watched his antics both abroad and

homes as to make him as great a favorite as
the most pettcd canary.
his voice silvery. His song in captivity is
plaintive as an appeal for liberty. and he is

human master.
THE ORIOLES.

The Baltimore oriole derives its name from
the colors of Lord Baltimore’s dress. and not
from the city of that name. The main curi-
osity of this bird is its hanging nest. Its home
is begun by firmly fastening natural strings of
the flax of the silk-weed or swamp hollyhock,
or stout artificial threads around two or more

poked twigs, corresponding to the width and - _ . _
; Chas. Baker, 11 granger who is reclaimmg
‘ land on the Gila, opposite Mohawk, Arizona.
i The cat watches them until they uncoil and

de )th of the nest. “'ith the same materials,
w' low down, or any accidental ravelings,
strings, thread, sewing silk, tow or wool that

may be found lying near the neighboring habi- i _
i by the back of the neck, chewmg the vertebrae

tations, or around the grafts of trees, they in-
terweave and fabricate a sort of
into the form intended, toward the bottom of

which they place the real nest, made chiefly 3

ofrlllilnt, wiry grass, horse and cow hair, etc.

e orchard oriole also has a hanfilnest. ‘
ough :

The orioles are all wonderful architects.
their nests may swing with every breath of wind
this is but a cradle rocking to the callow young,
and it is a rude blast, indeed, that endangers
their leafy home. The song of the Baltimore is
possessed of both richness and variety.

THE PURPLE GRAKLE.

The purple grakle, or crow blackbird, is some-
times annoying to the agriculturist by its mis-
chief in the cornfields, but it has some
qualities. It is of eat service in the destruc-
tion of insects. It as one very bad trait, per-

not distant relative, it is fond of birds’ eggs and

. tender nestlin rs, and it destrovs a great many,

particularly ro ins’. Cowardlike, it lurks about
the robin’s vicinity until the parents are away,
when it pounces on the nest, seizes an egg or a
young—one, and hastily retreats. Sometimes it
is caught in the act and forced to seek safety in
rapid flight.
THE WREN.

The great Carolina wren frequents shrubbery

and undergrowth, of all sorts, where it hides

with great pertinacity, and is oftener heard ‘
If we attempt to penetrate its hid- '

rrecesses '
or scramb— ’

than seen.
den resorts it hurries away into dee
with a low fluttering near the un
ling and ho ping from one bus to another, very
likely moc
soon as it feels perfectly secure. It shares, how-
ever, the restlessness and prying curiosity of its
tribe, and if we keep still in a favorable 8
may often see it returning slyly to take a 00k at
us, peering from amon the bushes with an in-

of the very spirit of unrest. Its song
is loud, clear, strong and highly musical.

The house wren winters in the Southern?
In the summer months its migrations = ,
, comes London, out

The song of the winter wren excels that of 3 is Parls- With its 1,938,506: New

States.
extend north to Canada and Nova Scotia.

any other known bird of its size. It is truly
musical, full of cadence, energetic and melodi-
ous.
not on hearing it.

On entering a patch of rushes in search of the ‘ Salford. 530,765 people.
A half'néillion' h 429 35 Madr 397552
‘ '_‘:407; acutta wit ,5:; as . ;
us in vehement and angry resentment at the in I Hamburg “hie State), 406,104; Birthingfiam’
1 383,117; Baltimore, 355,000; Buda-Pesth, 319,-
‘530; Dublin, 314,660; Leeds, 304,948: Amster-

marsh wren, we almost instantly hear the harsh
screeping notes with which those nearest scold

trusion.
THE PLOVERS.

The golden lover is more a visitor b the way

than a bird of) Long Island. It br only in

the far North.

country at large, sometimes in vast flocks, its
autumnal pro rcss being more leisurely than its
)ring.
molested it is gent e and unsuspicious.
rapidly and lightly
With a mellow whistling note and settles again
with a momentary graceful poise of the up-
turned wings. Some of the birds begin to work

,southward almost as soon as they are full

grown, though others Inger till driven away by
the cold.

0f the kildeer plover, Elliot Cones, the fa— ‘
; nious American naturalist. observes:
1 deer is conspicuous among the few waders that

‘ ‘ The kil-

breed at large through the United States, the
great majority of these birds passing further
north for this purpose. Bein , also, one of the
most numerous and widelydi used, few birds

tensive journeys, in its migrations, reachng
even to South America. I think it migrates
chiefly by night. As I sit at midnight writing
this in the town of Columbia, South Carolina,
in ebruary, I continuall hear their well-

known piercing notes, as t ey pass rapidly on 1

through the darkness.”

It isa beautiful bird and has a ‘
“'hen the female is disturb— ‘

I 000 bushels; of w

‘ cows, in the dusk the other evening,
. some dark objects movin round a shoe of corn,
. and went to see what t ey were.
. diately found herself attacked by six lar e rac-

coarse cloth :‘

lee the cmw’ 8' I all the piles supporting the wharves of San

us with its rollicking song as ‘

i then Berlin, with 1,019,620 inhabitants.

' h ' 3
Dull indeed mustbe the ear thatt rills : temburg’ 669,741; Bombay, 644,405; Glasgow,

It does not appear to have any 1
speciallines of migration, but passes over the .

When not too much ‘
It rims '
in search of its food, flies '

i from the Berne Central Bureau.

A CENSUS of Paris shows that it has 1,988,806

i inhabitants.

THE wine crop of California is valued this

‘ year at only $4,000,000.

A LITTLE machine is made that actually meas-

1 ures the distance walked.

A PANTHER is prowling about the woods in

‘ Cattaraugus county, New York.

THE Duke of Devonshire lately made $100,000
by the sale of thirty short-horn cattle.

THE estimated yield of corn this year is 1,300,-
eat, 400,000,000 bushels.

NEARLY 200 muskrats have been caught this

2 fall by the trappers, about Dunham’s Bay, Lake
: George.

A PERRY farme'r lights and warms his house
and does his cooking from a natural gas well
recently discovered on his farm.

THE Northern New York Poult
will hold its annual fair at Sandy
days, commencing January 14th.

THE cost of the ice-houses recent]
the Hudson show that the cost 0
about fifty cents per ton in capacity.

A SINGLE train on the Delaware, Lackawana
and “'estern Railroad, lately going from Utica
to Norwich, consisted of 305 coal cars.

ITALY has three navy yards, that of Spezia
being the most important. Two thousand eight

Association
ill, for three

erected on
erection is

_ . ; hundred and sixty workmen are employed there.
This fam11y has already been noticed in the ‘

AN Indiana firm is buying up all the walnut

g trees in the region of Louisiana, Mo., cuttin

them into logs and shipping by rail to the capi-
tal of the Hoosier State.

Two men while hunting near Bethe], Sullivan
county, recently came across three bears. They
killed one and wounded another, which attacked
one of the men. He struck it with his and
knocked it down, breaking the gun. T e third
bear escaped.

THE immense horns of the South African cat-
tle are made to twist spirally and in fanciful
curves by being scraped on one side 01' the other
while they are growing. Each owner can tell
the oxen which belong to his “ span ” in this

j way by the acquired shape of their naturally
The American gold-finch is too familiarly ‘
Every ‘

regular horns.
A LITTLE girl at Heeley Falls, Ont., while

. straying around her father’s farm ran across a
. young bear, and. mistaking it for a dog, tied a

HIS song is rich and  string around its neck and lugged it home. At

Stoneham, Quebec, a large she-bear was caught

, in a trap, and her affectionate cubs nearly flayed

.1 1' brl k' th "ththirtcthin
disinclined to cultivate the acquaintance of his " ler a we 3 p uc mg 8 er “I e e

their endeavors to get her away.

A GUELPH (Canada) girl, driving home the
rceived

She imme-

coons, but fortunately having a short stic , laid
about her so valiantly that the ’coons “made
tracks,” leaving two dead on the field.

A CAT that kills i'attlesnakes is owned by
desert

start to glide off, then jumps and catches them

till the snakes are dead, and with his claws
tearin loose any coils that may be thrown
aroun his body. He has already illedseveral.

THE teredo, or ship-worm, whose ravages on
ship timbers are we 1 known to all sailors is
creating great havoc on the Pacific coast. The
wharf at Santa Monica. the port of Los An les

‘ Southern California, has had to be aban oned

on account of their deprédations, and they have

; now put in an appearance at the San Francisco

docks. Another pest, called the hinnoria, works
crosswise in the timbers, boring fine holes across
the grain of the wood until at times the timber
is out completely in two. These pests used to be

‘ found only in tro ical seas, but since 1,470 they
‘ have appeared in

an Francisco Bay in immense
numbers. nless some means are devised to
check their ravages the complete destruction of

Francisco is threatened.

I'r may be interesting to billiard-players to
know somewhat of the origin of the game. In
the latter part of the sixteenth century a Lon~
don pawnbroker William Kerr, was in the
habit of amusing himself. in wet weather, when
there were no customers, with pushing about
three balls 011 the count-er with a yard measure.
This suggested a board with side pockets. An
old manuscript says: “Master lVilliam Kerr
did make one board whereby a. game is played
with three balls: and all the young men were
greatly recreated thereat. chiefly the young
clergymen from St. Paules: hence one of go
strokes was named a ‘ canon,’ having been
one of ye said clergymen invented. The game
is now known by the name of ‘ bill—yard,’ be-

t ; cause “'illiam or Bill Kerr (lid first play with
we I

the yard-measure. The stick is now called a
‘kew,’ or ‘kue.’ ” The old bill-yard is moderniz-

. ,  ed into billiard, and “ kew ” into cue.
quisitive air, all the while “ teetering” its body 2
and performing odd, nervous antics, as if it were ‘

THE British Registrar-General gives a weekly
account of the rate of mortality in a number of

, the great towns of the world, and among them

he describes the following as having a p0 1119.-
tion exceeding a uarter of a million. 
ople. Next

its 3,577,304
ork, with its

with 549,438; and
Phila-
delphia has its 876,118; Vienna, 727,271; St. Pe-

1084,528, and Brooklyn,‘

566,940: Liverpool, 532,681; Manchester, with
All these are above the
Then come Naples, with its 457,-

dam, 302,266; Sheflield, 280,537; Rome, 282.214;
and Breslau, with 267,000 population. Why
those cities of phenomenal growth and generous
rivalry, Chicago and St. Louis, are omitted from
the list is unaccountable.

A STRIKING illustration of the extentand ex-
cellence of the arrangements for the interna-
tional mail service, which have resulted from the
postal union, is given in the official publication
received bv the su rintendent of foreign mails

A resident of
Chemnitz, Saxony, mailed at that place May
24th, nine A. M., a postal card addressed to him-
self, carrying a request to all pOStmastersto dis-
patch successively and without loss of time, to

, Alexandria. Singapore, Yokohama, San Fran-

cisco and New York, and thence to Chemnitz,

1 his object being to Win a wager that. with the
1 existing arrangements, a circuit of the world

could be made by postal matter within 130 days.

. . S The request was complied with and the card ar-
are more familiarly known. It performs ex- :

rived in Chemnitz from New York. on the 117th
day after the date of the original mailing. The
Postmaster-General of Germany has caused this
card to be photographed, and transmitted a copy
to the Berne International Bureau, with the re-
mark that had it been posted one hour earlier it
would have accomplished the journey in ninety-
six days. I

 

 

 

 

 

 

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MONDAY. DECEMBER :lo, 1‘75.

Terms lo Subscribers.

One copy, siv inontl-s, . $1.27)
“ " one year. . . . . LR"!
Two copies, anc ywu r, . . . . ~|.-)d

Address all rennttairccs and ccnnnunications to
A DAMS AND COMPANY, Publishers.
98 William Street. N. Y.

 

Hare and Hounds.
Sasixo that public interest in this sport is fast
increasing, \\ c warn our suburban readers that

‘ the second meet of the Westchcster Hare and

“All (WI-(1007‘ gumm, ail/Mic sports. moi/1y. on”! ‘
flames. «fa. UI'UII'I' ’1‘0 1:15 l:‘.‘.'('0('1.’.-1UPI). for .
film sake of (he [ICU/[Ii which (My p/omo/e.“—lli:xuv -

\VARD Buncnan.

 

Amateur Journalism.

“’1; Open this week in Tin: Yorxo New YORK-
E11 a column which promisr-s to be both liVely
and interesting—that of “Amateur Journal-
ism.” Few have any idea of the extent to
which this branch of literature has spread in our

Hounds will take place on Christmas morning,
at ten o‘clock. sharp. The start will be from
Schroder‘s llotel, near the entrance of \Vood-
lawn (‘ciiicti-i'y. The " Hares" will be Messrs.
Frank liunlniin and W. S. Vosbur rh; the mas-
ter of the hunt, Colonel Delanccy Lane, and the

first and second whips, Messrs. J. B. Haviland  t0 the sight of men on horseback and the team,

and James Lowe.

An enthusiastic “ Hound " writes as that they
intend taking a little breather of twenty miles
il(‘l‘0>s country on this occasion, and it is to be
hoped that they will not be interrupted by deep
snow, though a light coat would be very nice
for the " Hounds," to aid them in tracking.

 

Skating.

“'HAT fielding skill is in the game of base-ball.
so is gin-ice of movement in the art of skating—it is
the most attractive feature of the sport. A man
may be able to accomplish the most difficult of
the {cuts of the fancy skater’s programme of

,' inov'cincnts. and yet, if he be. devoid of grace in
‘ the accomplishment of his task. he fails lament-
1' ably in giving a finish to his otherwise coin-
‘ plete lx-i‘t'ormance. Look at yonder skater exe-
l eating the “ grape-vine twist," the " figure
threes and eights," the “ flying threes.” the
“ spread eagle.“ and all the other varied move-
ments of the expert's rrpm'f ire of fancy skat-

. and ponies are not driven any faster than a walk,

and ever opportunity is made of cuttin across
to save istance. The wild horses are pt in
motion until dark, being given no opportunity
to graze during the day. At night they are too
tired to graze, and wil lie down. The pursuers
camp, feed their horses from 'ain, which they
carr with them, and are up )y do light, have

i brea 'fast, and start again. This is ept up day

after day. Every day takes some of the scare
and wild out of them: they become accustomed

I find they are not going to be hurt by them, and,

body and leg-weary from constant travel and
little feed, in from eight to ten days will allow
the men to ride in among them and drive them
in any direction. They are then headed for the
ranch, and are quite tame and docile by the
time they get in. 'l‘liev are of the pony order,
such as are used in the cattle busmess, make
good riding ponies,

broken to ride, sell at $15 to .325 per head, and _

= when to drive, at from $00 to $75 per span.—

. Pacific Life.

ing. and see how his arms fly from his body, 1
how ungainly he moves his legs. bends his knees ,

and twists and turns his body.

He acc« un— ‘

plishes each figure he attempts, but in what 1
manner does he do it: He cuts the figure on the ‘

ice Well enough, but what a figure he cuts in

doing it.’
In fact grace is half the merit of skating, and ‘

f without it all the skill of execution is but of

secondary importance. The skater who does

‘ the outside roll with perfect grace of motion
really accomplishes more. than he who can exe— ,
cute nearly every figure of the Skating Congress f

days. and it is a matter of just pride to Ameri- '

cans to reflect that in our country alone could
the movement have reached its present propor
tions.
chance." is one that is almost unknown in Eu-
rope, whcrc the doctrine that “Boys should be
sen and notlicurd" foims the basis of educa—
tion in too many cases. Boys and young men. sys-
tematically suppressed, seek refuge in each oth—
ers society. out of sight of those who should be
their wise and symputliizing friends, and the re-
sult too frequently is a great deal of mischief that
might be obviated were old and young thrown
together in more intimate connection. It is in
the light of these facts that we regard Amateur
Journalism as a good feature of our society,
and one to be encouraged by the professional
press of the country and by public opinion in
general. It is open to the light of day; it re—
flects the feelings and opinions of the budding
talent of our country, and its tendency is healthy
and elevating. In these days of universal litera-
ture, almost every young author who fights
his way, slowly and through many failures, to a
position in the world, has occasion to deplore,
again and again, his lack of an early training in
letters. A manuscript may contain hundreds of
errors that the author never realizes till he sees
his work printed, and then it is too late to rec-
tify the mistakes.

Amateur Journalism offers to the young
author, full of ideas, but ignorant of the techni-
calities of style and expression, a good practical
school wherein his first mistakes maybe correct—
ed, without coming up against him in future
years. Being avowedly nonprofessional work,
it meets with kind and discriminating criticism,
devoid of the ill-natured carping that prevails in
the daily press on professional work. It exer-
cises the highest and best faculties of the young
author; leads, if he has real talent, to a future
in the World of letters; and gives him a chance
to see whether he has mistaken his vocation or
not.

Our Amateur Column gives this week the
names of no less than seventy-five journals of
more or less circulation, written, printed and
published by boys of all ages, from thirteen to
twenty-four. This represents only a portion of
the whole, but is enough to show that the Ama-
teur Press is a healthy and growing institution.
Long may it flourish and increase.

 

The Walking Fever.

IVE seem to be likely to have enough athletic
sports this winter, and the walkers especially
are in full force. Not only are O’Leary and
Cainpana to try conclusions at Gilmore‘s in a
six days’ “ trot,"but Madame Anderson is goimr
to walk for nearly a month in Brooklyn, an
May Marshall has just beaten her man in a hun-
dred—mile-match, inside of twenty-four hours.

“'hen “'eston first attempted the feat of do-
ing a hundred miles in twenty-four hours, dur-
ing his walk to Chicago, it was looked on, and
justly, as a very daring undertaking. All the
pa rs teemed with accounts of the trials and
fai ures, and public interest was greatly excited
over the question. “ Can it be done 2‘”

This was ten years ago, and since that time
the feat has been performed by so many. that it
almost escapes attention that a woman has suc-
ceeded therein, and she is dismissed with a few
lines of comment. The truth is that, since the
walking fever set in in America, we have be-
come so much accustomed to wonderful per—
formances that they no longer excite much atten-
tion. We have gone so far ahead of all previous
records that nothing can command publ‘c notice
now. unless it be a su ssal of everything now
accomplished. The great interest of the contest
between Campana and O’Leaiy lies in the ex-
pectation that each man will go as much as 540
miles in the six days, before he stops. and after
that time we may expect a collapse of interest
in the long-distance matches, simply because no
one else is likely even to equal, much less sur-
pasg, the American records of Christmas “'eek.
187 .

\Ve have had many fevers. and the walking
fever has been perhaps the most beneficial of all

Our American motto “Give the boy a
7 ‘ ‘ . g
' antagonistic.

programme without it. It is a pleasure to see
the one move on the ice.
the other do so much and do it so ungracefully.
‘ jut what is grace!" says some juVeiiile
reader.

It is annoying to see 5

As applied to physical things it is a 1

quality which arises from a combination of cle- ?
gaucc of form and ease of attitude and motion. '

As Milton says: “ Grace was in all her steps."
Grace and rapidity of motion are, in a measure,
Graceful movements are made

I without apparent effort. A graceful position or
‘ movement on skates should invariably be

 

natural and devoid of aflectation. One of the
greatest obstacles to grace of mOchent on
skates is the motion of the arms. The tendency
they have to fl ' off at a tangent, and to make
acute angles 0 themselves greatly interferes

with the desire to move gracefully. To make j
your arms feel at home in a natural poSition

while you are going through your fancy figures.
in the first lesson in the art after you have
learnt to move on skates With Confidence.

Courage and nerve are essmitial qualifications ?

as a skater. Fear of a fall is a strong barrier to

progress in a practical knowledge of the art, 4

and the nerve required to attempt some difficult
feat or other involving risks of a severe fall is a
very necessary accompaniment.

4—..—

Among the Penguins.

A GENTLEMAN who passed some days sketch-
ing in the Falkland Islands had many opportu-
nities of observing the penguin population: and
he declared them to be the most intelligent,
impudent and inquisitive of the feathered tribe.
He lanted his camp—stool in the densest part

' of t eir “ i'ookery," where they crowded about

him, picked the buttons off and frayed the
tails of his coat, walked about his drawing
materials, and altogether behaved themselves
as if he had been sent for their special entertain-
ment. Fear there was none, or rather it was
all on the side of the man, for nothing but
an occasional vigorous use of a walking stick
enabled him to maintain his ground and finish
the beautiful series of water-color drawings
which we had the pleasure afterward of exam-
min .

'l‘lige structure of these birds should not be
passed by without a word of comment, so ad—
mirably adapted is it to their mode of life. The
fore limbs—which in most other birds are wings
—are flattened out into a pair of broad swim-
ming paddles covered with scales, enabling the
bird to follow its prey beneath the water with
a swiftuess, grace and ease contrasting re-
markablv with its awkward movements on
land. The feet are broad and partially
webbed, and the leg is modified in order to
give stability to the body. Provision is made
for long-continued divmg by enlargement
of the veins, which thus retain and act
as reservoirs for the vitiated blood until it can be
rendered aerated by breathing. The bones are
filled with oily marrow, and the feathers are
exceediu ly compact and well adapted to resist
water. \hen moulting, the penguin avoids
water, and the feathers come away in patches.

 

instead of sin ly, the whole process resembling ‘
more nearly t e shedding of a snake's skin than ‘

the moulting of a bird—Chambers‘ Journal.

 

Queer WaSp’s Nest.

A GENTLEMAN in India tells the following
story in the London F icld. He says:

“ Once I observed that the barrel of my Mar-
tini-Henry sporting rifle was stopped up with
mud at the end. I called the man that looks af-
ter my fire-arms. and asked him if he knew any-
thing about it. He said he had no idea how it
had got stopped up. as he had never taken it out
of the house, even when cleaning it (my orders
being that he was to clean it in the veranda.)
All my other servants also denied having touch-
ed it. I told him then to set tO'WOI‘k and clean
it, and on his knocking the mud out of the bar-
rel, we discovered five ecn cate illars in the
mud (which was made ike an ova cell), which
proved the truth of the man’s statement. These
carpenter wasps. though generally harmless in
their choice of sites for their nests, might cause a
great deal of harm, as. had I fired 011’
the rifle with the mud in the end of the bar-

1, 't t. I th' k. h 'n ‘tabl bu .i. !
re 1 mus m ave l em y 1‘ I get older they become speckled, but the speckles

Other kinds of wasps there are who make

 

Elephants as Explorers.

FAILING speedier means of locomotion in 1
Africa. elephants promise to become im
aids to the future development of trul 'c with l
the interior of the dark continent, pending the ‘1
time when the iron horse “ill (1 its way
thither. The success which has attended Colo- -
ucl Gordon‘s experiment in turning to practical I

 

elephants, which have been eating their heads
011’ in idleness so long at Cairo, will no doubt
lead not only to the use of the Indian ele-
phants in Africa, but also to the training of

the Indian elephants in their long journey
from Cairo to Dufli, in equatorial Egypt,
is reported as bein
amenable to discipline; and there is little
doubt that with the assistance of competent In-
dian elephants to capture, tame, and teach the
African variety, these animals might be made as
useful in their native country as the others are
in Asia, Three important points at least have
been proved by Colonel Gordon—that the In-
dian elephant will live and endure hardships
and privations iii the most trying parts of Afri-

 

cility; that the African variet can be tamed
‘ and pressed into the service 0 man; and that

' the native Africans can be taught to tend and .

a drive their enormous charges as wellas the In-
dian trainers. Two important features in con-
nection with the employment of elephants in
A1” ricu are that the animal is )roof against the

itant 1 attacks of the detested tsetze y, which neither

horses nor cattle can endure, and that the na-
tives—so far, at least, as our present experience
goes—flee at the approach of the great creatures
quietly (lrchn by men seated on their heads.—
Ea'chu :1 ye.

 

 

 

 

 

JOHN VAN OPSTAL.

THE CARRIER PIGEON FANCIER OF NEW YORK.

Mn. J oux VAN OPSTAL is a gentleman of New York City who has become noted as an importer,

breeder and flyer of carrier pigeons.

Among the rapidly increasing fanciers of this interesting

bird he stands foremost for the intelligence, fitfievemncc and success with which he has sought
6

both the highest development of the breed, an

pularizing of the flying of them.

He was born in the city of Antwerp, Bel ium, une 16th. 1828, and is therefore fifty years of

age. He came to the United States in 187 , when twentv-eight years old, and now 5

ks and

writes the English language with the greatest fluency. In Belg in the breedingan flying of

pigeons, for pleasure or profit, are almost universal among all c

of the people. It is stated

that at least one person out of every three is the owner of pigeons, and the whole number of birds
in the countrv is not less than five millions. Generally twenty birds are kept, but some keep as
many as one hundred. Mr. Opstal was only twelve years old when he became a pigeon-fancier in
his native country, and. when he came to the United States he already possessed full knowledge as
to the breeding and fiymg of the famous Belgian or Antwerp carriers.

_Mr. Van Opstal IS a large man, erect in carriage, and polite in manners. His face shows both
his intelligence and penetration of character. Few subjects escape his observation and under-
standing. On the subject of the Antwerp carriers he is an enthusiast, and he will entertain a per-

son for hours with interesting facts about them.

press. He is at the head of the New York Club.
ing of these pigeons. The number of individuals
ready Sln'prisiiigly large, and it is still increasing.

 

He has also written much on the subject for the
an organization devoted to the breeding and fly-
interested in them throughout the country is al-

Indian Pigeons.

ALL over Southern Europe, Asiatic Turkey. 1

3 Egypt. Persia and India, pigeons are kept in
I enormous numbers. The a uare of St. Mark’s.

their cells of mud. but they fill their cells with .
spiders. These wasps are very common in 111- 3
dia, and build their nests on the sides of port- ?
manteanx and docis. and other places. I should .

state that my rifle was on a. table. on which I
keep all my ammunition.

 

Wild Horses in Kansas.

IT is a well-known fact that from time imme-

. morial herds of wild horses have roamed over
> the plainsof Southwestern Ixunsas. Theirorigin

to our self-respect in the athletic sense of the .

world. Europeans were accustomed to sneer at
us for want of muscle and power of endurance.
John Bull was especially proud of his walkingr
capacity and challenng us to produce an equal
of Captain Barclay.
have since proved that Americans can out-walk
Englishmen. as well as out—shoot them. and now
we look to the Campana match to clinch the
nail of athletic superiority.

‘v with fleet horses.

no man knows. It may date to the early Spon—
isli conquest of the country. It has been exceed-
ingly difficult to capture them, the method pur-
sued having been to run down and lasso them
Lita-fly, 110v ever. it has
been found that they can be captured in herds.

‘ The method is, to get up an outfit of a fast-

\\'eston and many others ‘2

walking team on a wagon carrying provisions.
and camp supplies, and three or four riding
ponies and as many men. \Vhen a herd is.
found, thev are kept moving. no effort being

1 made to drive them in any direction. The team ,

at Venice. is famous for the autiful doves that
build their nests up among the domes of the
cathedral; while the mosques of Turkev and
Egypt devote a regular annual sum of mohev to
feeding their flocks of t pigeons. '

It is in India and ersia. however. that the
most attention is paid to breeding curious vari-
eties. A recent writer says:

The points of beauty valued by the Indian
fancrer have been exceedingly diverse from the
European standard. Generally speaking. little
attempt has been made to alter the form of the
bird: but every efl'ort has been used to secure
strange and bizarre combinations of color and
singularity of marking. The most celebrated
breed is that known as the Khul. There are
several varieties of this breed: the great peculi-

! arity is that the young are white. except the

upper part of the cad and the tail. As they

must be of a pure red or yellOW, any other color

being objectionable, and the speckles must not .

come in blotches. The birds must be small,
without black on the feet or beaks. and with a
well—marked white eyebrow.
outside tail feathers are white.
The different colors are bred together, and it
is quite uncertain what colors the young will
take. For example, two black khals may have

Very often the

‘ yellow klial young ones. and every now and then

a chap khal—that is a bird with the markings
previously described, but with one wing coior-
ed, the other perfectly white. A chap 111;;(‘011
is as remarkable as an animal Would be with
eyes of different colors. and is verv rare. Chap
khals may be mated together if they both have
the right or both the left wing Colored. Thcplaiu
him]. with the head, tail and specklcs of the

: same color. is the least valuable. and the chap
khal. if well-marked. is by far the rarest.

\thn the head, tail and speckles on the wings "

are of three different colors. the birds are verv
valuable. Of course, it is not every bird that
will be perfect: even the young of perfect birds
may not necessarily be perfectly marked.

There is also a well-known breed of pigeons in
India. called Sherazies, from the Persian towu
of Sheraz: these birds may be black, red, vel-
low, or slate-colored. The bird is white, exczept
the wings and head; crossing a Sheraze with a
‘ khal will sometimes produce a chap khal. Good

. cimens of figeous are as rare in India as in
ngland, an much more difficult to pracure.
: The pigeons that are hawked about are never of
1 an ' value.
e Sheraze is a splendid breed, and the best
1 have several points to be attended to. Ordin-
ary Sherazi pigeons are very common in India,
but really good ones are very rare and expen-
sive: they can only be procured as a favor. and
when you have got them you will often find that
you have not received breeders. The fact is, no
doubt, that the natives value them too high] v to
i wish to make them common. '

There is a very handsome breed called Sabz
Patez: it- has beautiful green and blue plumage,
. with red eyelids, a small crest, and a white ring
1 round the neck; the bars are black, like those of
the blue rock. The Yahoo, or laugher, is a
white bird. that makes a sound like its name.
The Shiftern is something like a khal. but it has
the speckles of mixed colors, and is not nearly
so rare.

InNorthem India the natives arc ve ' fond
of high-flying pigeons; they go up out (I)? sight
and stav up for hours. This pigeon is a com-
mon—locking bird; the best are generally white,
with black speckles, and a white eve. The
hawks catch great numbers of them, and the
kites also. Theyareoftcn seen hunting them in
couples, one above and one below the pi eons.
These high-flych might be good carriers. at it
would be difficult to try them in India. 'in con-
S€( ucnce of the numerous kites and hawks.

v

ca, and with unaccustomed kinds of food. swim- ~
and, when thoroughly ' ining rivers and crossing deserts with equal fa-

use in the Soudan the Khedive’s tame Indian ‘

the native variety to purposes of commerce. 1
An African specimen, which accompanied . _ W 

in good health and?

Special Notion—Tn: Youuo New Youna is
prepared to answer questions on all the subjects
treated of in the paper. Competent writers have
been engaged for our departments of spons, pas-
times, athletics, etc., so that o‘r readers may de-
pend on correct information.

We shall be pleased to receive accounts from
school and college clubs of contests in athletics of
all sorts, of shooting and fishing excursions, whether
of parties or of single persons, and to publish the
same if of interest to our readers.

N. B.—We do not undertake to decide wagers. nor
to deal with anything involving the elements of
gambling and betting in any form.

Address all communications to Eurrou Youxo NEW
Yomtan. us \Viillam street, New York City.

 

W The publishers of Ta: Yorso New Youun
will always be glad to receive and consider contribu-
tions from authors of well-known reputation on sub—
jects suitable for, and congenial to, boys and young
men. Such Contributions will be given early atten-

. tion. and early use when found available.

 

chxnnnocksa wants to know where to get a geo-

‘ logist's hammer and how inuch it will cost? Ax-
} swan. At any first-class city hardware store they
I will be able to make one to order at a irobahle ex—

.pense inside of five dollars, more

ikely about

: two.

LADDIE. Your MS. is received. “'liile it is well

i and carefully written. it is somewhat too didactic in

tone for our columns. We should prefer you to
choose some more lively and interesting field than

‘ that of the moral essay, as we wish to make Tn:

Yorxc. NEW YORKER bright and sparkling, as Well
a < solid.
Si‘ascnmiza. Chicago, asks: " “'here to get a good

; hook on poultry?" He further says: "Tin: Yorso

NEW Yonxsa is the best paper 1 ever took." Ax-

‘ swan. Many thanks for your praise. We mean to
‘- l;eep the paper up to the mark, and our only change

will be to raise it still higher. We can get you the
best books on multry. Prices range from $1 to 510,
according to e aboration of cuts, etc.

Ninaon asks: "1st. Where can I buy a second-hand

, pair of " song and dance " shoes? 2d. Where is the.

)est place to buy ready-made costumes in New York?

, 3d. Is there any book printed that teaches how to

 

i

play tambourine and bones? ~1th. “'here can I get
first-class New Year‘s curds?" Answsu. list. From
a performer who needs them no longer. 24!. At a
professional costumers. There are plenty of them,
chiefly in the Bowery and Fourth avenue. 3d. The
instruments are too simple to require books 01' iii-
siruction. «itli. At a first-class job printer‘s.

Jocxni' asks for a list of all houses that have made
the fastest time, from one to ten miles. and under
what circumstances? Alvswnu. 'l‘roitin ', one mile,
Rains, 2:13 1-2; two miles, Flora Tempe, 4:50 1-2;
three miles, Hnntrcss, 7:21 1-4: five miles, Lady Mack,
13:00; ten miles, Controller, THE! 1-4. Pacing one
mile. Billy Boyce (saddle). 2: 1-1 1-4; two miles, flero,
4:58 1:2; three miles, Oneida Chief (saddle), 7:44. No
record for five and ten miles. Running, one mile,
Ten Broeck. 1:89 3-4; two miles, Ten Broeck. 3:271-2;
three miles. Ten Broeck. 5:28 1-2. No record for five
and ten miles.

AXATEL'R, Tomato. Ont., asks: "1st. What is the
best standing high jum that has been made for
some previous years? 2( . Who is the highest kicker
of the United States, and how high has he kicked?
3d. have you ever heard of one who goes by the
name of ‘ iinon.‘ It is said that he is the champion
two-mile walker of Ameiica; he is a butcher by pro-
fession, and resides here in Toronto.” ANSWER. lst
and 2d. E. W. Johnson. of your own town, has the
best record on both feats, or had until very recentlv.
3d. We do not think "Simon" is the best two-mile
walker in America. T. H. Armstrong, of New York,
has made the best time so far.

TRO’I‘TING MAD asks: “How man American horses
have trotted a mile in less than ‘ :2), and what are
their recotds?" Axswnu. Rams, 2:13 1-2; Gold-
smith Maid, 2:14; Ho ieful, 2:14 3-4: Lula, 2:15;
Smuggler, 2:151—4; Luci le Golddust, 2:161-4; Ameri-
can Girl, 22161-22; Oecident, 2:16 3-4; Gloster, 2:1T;
Dexter, 2:17 14: Edwin Forrest. 2:18; Great Eastern.
2:18; Judve Fullerton, 2:18: Nettie, 2:18; Red Cloud,
2:18; Lin y Maud, 2:18 1-4; Lady Thorn, 2:18 1-4;
Lucy, 2:18 1-4; Midnight, 2:181-4; Col. Lewis, 2:181-2;
Slow Go, 2:181-2: Albeinarlc. 2:19; Cozctle, 2:19;
llick Swiveller. 2219: Edward, 2:19; Bodiiie, 2:191-4‘.’
Comee. 2:19 1—1;meic, 2:11! 1-4; George l’nlmcr,
2:19 1-4; Ilannis, 2:19 1-4: I’roteine, 2:19 14; Thomas
L. Young, 2:19 1-2: Adelaide, 2:19 3-4; Camera, 2:19
3-1; Flora Temple, 2:19 3-4. This makes thirty-five
horses.

Yorxo UARDENER asks how to make a cranberry
bed? Axswm C unberries are enerally grown in
natural swamps, but artificial hex s are thus formed-
Those who contem ilate them ought to consider first
where a good sup y of water can be had; then. se-
lecting a light airy position, but still not too ex-
posed, have a bed of the required width excavated
to the depth of five feet, and paddled with clay suf-
liciently to hold water. Secure a waste pipe, say
three inches below the top of the bed, and when it is
required to have the water higher, this may be easily
brought about by tlacing some clay around the pipe
to the required big it. It is most essential n t to al-
low the water to become stagnant. The plants
should not be put in too thickly together. because in
a few years 1 ey grow rapidly, and if crowded do
not bear freelv.

GASPAR, Brooklyn, asks: Ist What is the standard

2 dictionary in the highest colleges of our countrv?

 

2d. How are the names “Cliaco.” “bond” and

"Iago." renounced? 3d. What is the present popula-
tion of rookl 'n and New York?" Axsvvizn. 1st.
Webster's and \‘orcester‘s Unabridged Dictionaries
hold equal rank now. The et 'moloiry of Webster is
rather fuller than that of “orcester, but there is
not much difference between them n0w. In the ma-
jority of New York city pa rs Worcester is the
standard on spelling. 2d. “ haco" is pronounced
TcIiaIi-ko; “Iago” is sounded E~ah-go; “Doud " is
ironounoed as written in English. 3d. In 1875, New

’ork city had a little over a million of souls and
Brooklyn about 550,000. The next census will pro-
bqbly show nearly two ‘millions between the two
ei ics.

_Tl_iIP, Albany, writes: “ Will you tell me it five feet
six inches. and one hundred and seventeen pounds
is the average weight and h' ht for a boy of seven-
teen? I shall have a shell- t next season, and
would like to know what exercise it would be best
for me to take to succeed in rowing. I am a pattern-
maker, and have to do some pretty heavy work. I
am very healthy. Ihave been in four

races,
‘ have won every time easily. I like running, and I

run very well.“ Axswsn. You are well up to the
average hight and weight. The best exercise for an
oarsnian is running. ’I‘o row long races requires
plenty of "wind," that is, large lungs; and nothing
exercises the lungs so much as running An oars-
iuan who does nothin but row, exercises only the
back and loins. and oes not develop his lungs at
the same rate as his muscles. This is now well
known, and oarsmen. whether in single or crew

: competitions, do a great deal of running when they

are in training.

. Gazsxnons asks: "1. “'hat is a juniorunder boat-
rg rules? 2. What. is meant by best and best boats?
.Axswsn. 1. The definition of a junior oarsman or
sculler varies in different localities. They are all
adaptations of the recognized English laws, which
are as follows: “ Oarsnmn are juni. ['8 if they have
never been winners of any race except a private
match. or one in which the competition was con-
fined to membeis of one club only: or a race between
college crews, members of the same nniveisity: or

. one in which the construction of the boats was re-

; these parti-colored pichIns in this country, but "

there IS no doubt that the climate of our South-

} ern States would offer an excellent chance to

acclimate them quickly and that they would
j soon become fashionable.

The breeding of our native pigeons for curi-

ous colors might also be tried with good effect.

* “'e commend the subject to American faiicicrs.

- oatteumts have yet been made to establish , stricted. Scullers are juniom if they havo never

been winners of any race exeept a private match. or
one in which the competition was confined to mem-
bers ( " o: . ci 'h only: or one in which the construc-
tion « . i:;\‘ 1 c :ts was restricted. ial cases
which do Lo: rol'IlL‘ within the above eflnitions of
junior oarsnxcr. and scullers. respectiv v. must be
referred to the committee of the regatta or decision
on their own merits.“ 2. The phrase "best and best
boats" means that each contestant shall use any
beat he chooses.

 

 

 

 

 

  
   
       
   
   
    
    
   
      
     
   
       
      
    
      
 
  
  
    
      
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
   
   
 
   
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
    
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
   
 
 
  
   
  
   
     
  
 
 
 
   
    
  
  
 
    
   
    
  
  
    
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  

 

 

a." A}; 3 A. .-

“‘1

ad“

 

 

 

.MI.

\__... .w“

 

 

  
  
 
   

 

 

  

lg CRY or A

 

 

 

 

 

STRONG MAN.

BY HRS. C. M. FAIRCHILD.

 

 

Mv boat is drifting with the tide,
he noon of life is past,
All silently the waters glide,
And steady stands the mast;
There's now small sign of wreck or storm
Around my bark‘s strong hold.
01' tracery of the lightning‘s track
Where threatening billows rolled.
Lo! he who sees me now will say
The light is on the river—
But, mother, I am lost today.
I need thee more than ever.

There was a time—oh happy thought—-
I felt thy gentle hand,

Ere yet the mariner had brought
My boat from sight of land.

There was a shore I lingered near
A morning and a day,

Ere youth. grown tired of sky too clear
Sailed rec 'lessly away.

But they who see me now will say
The li ht is on the river—

Oh, mot er, I am lost to-day,
I need thee more than ever.

Oh. could one hour of youth come back—
Had I thy gentle hand

To leid me toward the certain track
“'here lies my dwelling land~

Ali. stronger than the words of men.
Or gentler ones who smile.

Would be that clasp I've long-.1 to reach
O'er many a Weary mile.

For thou h they look at me and say
The lig it is on the riVer—

Dear mother. lam lost today.
I need thee more than eyer.

I see in dreams thy gentle eye’s
Bent on me from above:

I feel their glance of sad surprise“
I know thou wouldst improve.

For hardened heart and brow so stern.
And face set ‘gainst the Wol‘l'l—~

As Saul‘s against the son: of him
Who fled from javeliii hurled:

Lo! he who sees me now may say
The light is on the river:

But, mother, I am lost to-day.
I need thee more than ever.~11urt'i‘wyc.

 

 

The Tiggr Tamer:

I ritory on our hands.

THE LEAGUE of the JUNGLE ‘

A TALE OF INDIA.

BY CAPT. FREDERICK “'HITTAKER.

CHAPTER XVI.
rm: RESIDENT.

SIR DOUGLAS MCGREGOR was smoking his

hookah after breakfast, a short time before
sunrise. and while the air was still cool and
comfortable. The inhabitants of India, white
and black. acquire habits of early rising in that
scorching climate, and Sir Douglas was an old
Anglo-Indian.

He lay in a grass hammock .

under the broad-s reading veranda. and lazily I
watched the wreat 15 of smoke from the bowl of '

his pipe, when he was startled by an exclama-
tion of terror from one of the native servants
that waited near him. The next moment-there

was a scramble and shuffle of bare feet and the 3

Resident was left alone 011 the veranda, while
the noise of slamming doors showed that the
servants had fled into the house and shut the
doors on themselves.

Instantly Sir Douglas realized that some dan-
ger was at hand, for he knew the cowardly na-
ture of the natives too well to doubt that they
had left him to save their own necks.

He sat up in the hammock in amazement, and
even his tou h nerves winced and the blood stood
still at his
feet from him, a huge tiger, slowly waving its
tail to and fro, and gazing wistfully at the
hammock.

Sir Douglas McGregor was a man of great
courage, but he was alone and unarmed. Morc~
over. the apparition of the tiger came so sud-
denly, that he had no time to think: and it is no
wonder that he turned pale, wnile the sweat
rolled off his forehead in big drops. However,
all his fear did not make him lose his presence
of mind, so he looked round him with the view
of making a rush for the house door before the
tiggr made an aggressive movement.

e was just drawing up his legs preparatory
to a leap, when a hand was laid on his shculder.
and a voice said, in the precise labored English
of a native gentleman who has learned from
books:

“ I hope that Sir Douglas McGregor will not
allow the presence of my tigress to incommode

cart, as he perceived, not twenty ’

him. Seevah is quite harmless, unleSs I bid her .

be otherwise."

The old Scot turned his head and met the eyes l

of Goviiida, who stood beside the hammock
looking down at him. The Resident was too
much accustomed to concealing his feelings to

allow any token of his recent terror to appear,

so he affected to yawn as he answered:
“Oh, is that you? The man Major Charlton

spoke of I suppose. You have a fine animal ‘

there. i ’oulil 'ou be so good as to call out for
my servants?
has run away.”

Govinda looked down at the old minister with
a dubious sort of smile, and responded:

hat rascal of a hookah-bearer i

“ I think that for our purposes it shall be advis- 1

able to retain the domestics in ignorance of the
purport of our conversations. Sir Douglas. You

will observe me, that I speak the English as ‘

facile as formerly. I (lit bring with me this
tigress of mine on purpose to secure an inter—
view with your excellency that should be en-
tirely undisturbed."

Sir Douglas McGregor turned round and
looked at the tiger-tamer from under his shaggy
brows for a moment, and then swung himself
half out of his hammock muttering:

“You’ll have what I please, not What you
want——”

i
l
l

He had got thus far and his feet were almost ‘

on the floor, when Govinda made a signal.
moment the tigress rushed forward with such
an a pulling grow] and snarl. that Sir Douglas

Ina‘

l

caug t up his legs into the hammock with :
alacrity and dropped the mouthpiece of his long '

snake-like hookah.

With an air of the most refined politeness, ‘
Govinda lifted the mouthpiece and presented ‘

the tube to Sir Douglas, calmly observing:

“ I be to amure the Resident that no harm is
intende him, but that I prefer that our inter—
view should be entirely private. It is useless to
attempt the evasion of my purpose, while See-
vah is here.”

Sir Douglas showed his coolness by accepting
the proffered pipe with a slight how, after which

he puffed away in silence for some minutes. ‘

buried in thought.
sulk tone:

“ Vell, what do you want?”

“That is the question for myself to demand
of you, Sir Douglas. I was informed by the

At last he said, in a rather I

commandant of the guards at J agpore that you '

wished to see me.
you?”
“ What is your name and who are on?”
. y

I am here.

What would ‘

“ Men call me the King of the Jungle, some ‘

Govinda, the Tiger-Tamer.”
“ But your real name—What is it 3“
“ Dead, twenty years since.”

in the gloom of the early dawn.

Sir Douglas started and peered at the other 3

“ \Vhat was it twenty years since .3"

"It was that of a man who hated you Eng-
lish, and never turned his back in battle.”

“ But for all that, he was beaten, Govinda.
He was no coward, but he was a fool. Were be
alive now, he would be Inorc sensible, I think.“

The tiger-tamer shook his head gloomily.

“Perhaps not. “'ho can tell the decrees of
God? He may come to life again, to the sorrow
of you English. IVliat do you wish to say to
me.’ The sun will rise. and I must depart to
the jungle—the home to which you and yours
have driven me.”

“ I wish to know whether you will hear reason

and be at peace. if you are treated reasonably,“ T

said Sir Douglas. raising himself on his elbow.
“ The fact is that we are getting tired of a per-
son who shall be nameless in aplace that you

know of, and we do not want to take more ter- ,

If we support you and
forgive the past, will you stick by the British
flag?”

Govinda drew back. folded his arms on his
broad chest and was silent. Sir Douglas watch-
ed him keenly and went on:

“Don’t be a fool a second time. but think
over it. If you do as I wish you and your

 

While little ones all lightly sleep
Old Father Time begins to chime
The Christmas carols. sweet and deep,
Above the moonlit snow and rime.

Oh loud he rings above the roofs:
\ir'hile curly heads in drowsy beds

Half-listen for the reindeer-hoofs
To rattle o‘er the frosty leads.

 

 

jungle, where they dared not follow. Alone.
under the sun and the stars, I have defied the pow-
er ot‘ the white lords of India. who stole our her-
itage by lies and force, assumed as they would
best serve your purpose. I have made brethren
of the wild beasts, because I found them better
friends than men. Your men cannot take me,
and you know it.”

" Then. in plain words, you refuse to promise."

Sir Douglas‘s tone was decidedly ill-tempered.

" For the present, yes. I must have time to
think."

" ()h. very well—what shall I call you f—Go- ‘

vinda, at present? Very well, take your time
and let me know."

“ I will return before sunset of to—morrow,”
said the tiger—taiiier, gravely. “ If I promise,
as you know—"

“ You will keep your word—of course.

in them. As for him, the less we say about him
the better, I think.”
Govinda laughed bitterly.
*' What!
dent. found out his mistake at last:
time.
twenty years ago, the people of this unhappy

All ‘
your race, except one, had the virtue of truth ‘

Has the Sahib Commissioner Resi- ‘
\‘i'ell, it was ‘
Had the Company treated me rightly ‘

leaped from the hammock to follow her. He
saw her gallop over the lawn into a bamboo
thicket that bordered the garden, and there she
vanished.

The old Resident was a keen sportsman and
his blood was up. He had felt intensely irri-
tated at the humiliating position in which he
had been kept by Govinda and was determined
to ({ind out the secret of his retreat at any haz-
ar .

He rushed to the back door of the Residency.
kicked and shouted like a maniac till it was
opened by the terrified servants. and then dash-
cd into the house. scolding and striking right
, and left, and shouting for his guns and bearers.

A few minutes later, gun in hand, he was
1 tracking the tigress across the garden and fol-
lowed the trail till it entered the black ground
of the burnt jungle.
‘ Just as he was considering about what to do
i to follow to the best advantage. he heard his
f numc called out, and saw Charlton riding to—
ward him followed by an escoxt of sowars of the
Rajah‘s guard.

"Glad to see you, major."panted the Resi-
ident, who was beginning to lose breath from
| his unWonted exertions.

l

 

 

 

And

 

child are safe on a throne. Refuse and go back
to the 'uncle to starve, or come out to play the
mountelian { before the present Rajah of J ag-
pore.”

Govinda’s eyes glittered and the old Scot heard

the grating of his teeth in the gloom.

“They tell me he has tried to steal your child
from you,” continued the Resident iii a reflective
sort of way: “ and I hear also that he tried to
kill you by setting a wild tiger at you. Now I
should say that to a man of your race this life
You lead must. be tircsonic—"

(lovinda raised his hand to interrupt him.

" It is frcc, and I am the master. I prefer to
be first in the jungle to being second in a
palace.”

Sir Douglas shrugged his shoulders.

“ Then you refuse to promise?
I sup-

It is a matter ‘

i of little consequence to the Government. ‘ the brilliant

pose you know that we, are aware of your idcn- .1

titv with a person whose head is forfeit.”

“ I know all, Sir D'mglas,” answered the
tigcr-tanici', and as he spoke he drew himself up
to his full liiglit. “Your sowars have sought

land might be prospcro‘. s to-day, and you know i

it. Peace be unto you.
The tall figure turncd and vanished round the

corner of the house. just as the first rays of the ‘
rising sun began to gild the domes and mniarets ‘

of Jag re. Sir Douglas was about to jump up
and f0 low, when he was arrested by a warning

growl from the tigress, and discovered that i

amiable quadruped crouching as if to spring.

“ It’s clear that our estimable friend does not g
wish to be dogged," said the Resident to himself i
as he sunk back in the hammOck, when the ,

tigress at once rose to her feet and stood looking

‘ anxiously off across the lawn in the direction .

which Govinda had taken. She (lid not like the

increasing light.

Sir Douglas watched her with some interest .

to see what she would do. admiring nicanwliilc
markings of her sides and the
grimdly symmetrical form of her body.

Minute :iftcr minute passed: the sun rosc fully .

‘ over the horizon. and s? ill the great beast stirred

me for years. and I have wandered in the free .

not—till the faint sound of a distant whistle
echoed from the hack of the house.

'l‘haniwuy' ‘
like a flash went the tigress, and Sir Douglas 3

Then. in their sleep they stir. and dream
The sound that steals, the fairy peals
Flung out by Santa (‘laus‘s team:

And feel the power of fairy spells.

Pull, pull away. old Father Time!

let each hell, with gladness. tell

How Christmas Day in (‘hristiati clime,
Makes youthful hearts with rapture swell!

“ Send a man back for my horse. and let three
. or four more track this tigress over the ashes.
That (iovinda‘s been here, and I want to find
him."

“ Bcttcr leave him alone Sir Douglas," rc-
plied Charlton gravely. “ I’ve news for you,
sir. The Thugs were after me only yesterday.
and (lovinda saved my life from them. I’ve
found the names of five in one gang. and Mirza
Baba is one of them.”

The old Resident desisth from his purpose at
onceand turned to Charlton v ith a suits of cross-
qucstions that soon elicited the whole of his ad-
ventures of the previous day. \‘Ihen the young
man had finished, the old one ()l)>t'l‘V('(i:

" You were a foolish young fellow not to
bringr me that Luchmcc )ou tell Hf. She‘s the
Worst of the lot. (lo back to the lajah, and
lrccp your counsel. I‘ll have them all now, inside
of a week."

(,‘II.\ l’TlCll XVII.
1-:uoiu‘s mm
“Iloppm'y bop.’ how tired I .‘llll, Khoda,”
yaunud his Highness thc Rajah Rain Sing.

 

“Send for that new Nautch-girl. By the beard
of Sultan Baber, she’s worth all the dancers of

my Zenanah. Send for her at once.”

The Rajah had slept off the effects of his last
night's potations of " Sham ”—olias champagne
—and he was much in the condition of any other
spoiled child who wanted to be amused. Khoda
khan was accustomed to these moods and dex-
terous in finding sports to divert the attention of
his master from business, but this time he wasa
little at fault.

The Queen of the Nautch-girls had disap-
peared.

“ Your HighneSs is aware, I suppose,” he be-
gan, “that the woman was nothing but a free
dancer from Delhi. and that she was brought in
by the Major Sahib.”

“ Yes, I know all about it.
is my best friend, Khoda.
\Vhere is she:"

" Your Highness will have to ask the Major
Sahib.“ replied Khoda with a significant leer.
" He has taken her away again, possibly to en—
hance her value.” '

The ’iajah Ram Sing started up in his chair,
mid the \‘t‘llls‘ in his forehead swelled out, as he
ejaculated:

" \‘i'herc is the dog? How dared he? “'ho
am I to be treated like this by a Frank—an infi-
«;el——a—a— 7‘

He )aused and spluttered with indignation.
while {hoda resprctfully waited, with his eyes
cost down. till his master‘s wrath should permit
a word.

" “'here is the Major Sahib:u finally bellowed
the Rajah. in tones of intense fury.

" llc lllleJOIIL‘ forth to see the Resident Sahib,
my lord," replied the minister. glibly and Obse-
quit lusly.

This was another stab: for Ram Sing hated
Sir Douglas Mch‘rcgor \\ ith a hatred all the
more intense that he was dreadfully afraid of
the old Resident.

" “hat is he doing there?" he asked, savage—
ly. “ I pay him to stay here, not to bear tales
to the Sahib.”

" Your Highness is not aware then that this
American is a great favorite with the Inglecz
Sahib. They see each other almost daily. The
major was there yesterday before the jungle
fire. and tried to persuadi- the Sahib Resident
that your Higlim'ss‘s court wasfull of Thugs.”

Here Khoda bent his eyes on the floor with an
air of pious and saintly resignation that was
very affecting.

The Rajah looked startled and frightened.

" Thugs! here in my court! The man must
be mad. There are no Thugs left in Hindostan.
are there 5”

Khoda smiled with a snecring expression.

“ How could there be iii your Highness's (l0-
minions, with the Major Sahib for chief of the
guards? The major wished to give the Resident
an op )ortunity to interfere with the rule of
your Iighness, to break the succession, per-
haps."

The Rajah Rain Sing was half angry and half
terrified now.

“ I want no interference here. and I will have
none. I will send this Major Sahib about his
business. “'hose dog am I to be treated thus?
He can leave me to-inorrow."

“ Your HighneSs forgets,” said the oily tones

The Major Sahib
He brought her here.

 of Klioda, “that the Sahib Resident has deter—

mined that the American must stay with us.
whether we Will or no. He threatens, if we send
him away. to order in a British force and to dis—

miss your HighneSs's guards altogether. We
_‘ cannot get rid of the major that tray.”
“Then how, in the name of Allah? Oh bop-

‘ pery bop! speak out, Khoda—what mean vou?"

; rubbing his hands.

“ The major must hare (I71. accident, out hunt-
ing,“ responded the crafty minister, smiling and
“He told your Highness
that it would be well to take a ride dail *. I
think he was right. Let your Highness or er a

‘ grand hunt, with the Major Sahib for escort.

He shall iierercome back.”
" But how will you manage it, Khoda?”
“ Dread lord, e says there are Thugs here.

 Sup iose they catch him alone.”

‘L

ut there are no Thugs in my dominions.”

 urged the Rajah, looking apprehensiver round.

Khoda laughed in low sneering tones.

“There are none here, but they can he found
if a prince has a minister who is faithful and
discreet. Let your Highness order the hunt. I

‘ will answer for the Major Sahib.”

The Rajah Ram Sing looked half admiringly,
half fearfully at Khoda Khan, for that powerful
rascal was overniastcring, as usual, the weaker
scamp. The prince was as yet but a young in: n
in years. though old in dissipation and extrava—
gance. He had been a boy of ten at the time of
the mutiny of lr‘fiT. and had been put on the
throne as a puppt t by the East India Company

f in place of his elder brother, Arjuna, who had

joined the rebellion with all his heart and soul.

‘ and disappeared at the siege of Delhi in ore cf

the final battles there. It was Sir Douglas Mc-
(ircgor himself who had raised Ram Sing t0tl‘:(‘
throne. principally because of his youth and
pliabihty. but since that day the old Scot had
found reason to regret his choice more than
once.

The boy had compensated for his weakness of
character by exhibiting a fondness for dissipa—
tion surprising even in a Rajah of Jagpore, and
at twenty—eight years of age resemb d a fat
man of fifty, thanks to regular morning

, draughts of ghee or melted buffalo butter, and

to evening banquets on champagne and spiced
dishes.

This fat, timid, sensual, cruel, tyrannical crea—
ture. who could smile at an execution and yet
fainted with terror at the sight of a loose tiger,

- was now as wax in the hands of Khoda.

“ You are my preserver.” he ejaculated.
“’ Rid me of this impudcnt American, and you
shall have all his savings.”

Khoda‘s eyes sparkled with avarice: for he
knew that Charlton, who had once been the Ra-
jah‘s first favorite, had accumulated a great
stock of jewels, which he always carried about
him, as if in momentary expectation of leaving
the country. Klioda onged for these jewels
himself.

“ Your Highness shall be rid of him. if I am
allowed full liberty, but no questions ought to
be asked by any one. if the enterprise is to be
accomplished successfully.”

“ Do as you please, Khodzi: do as you please.
“'hat shall we do to—dayt“

" If vour'Highncss permits. I would say that
the hunt should be ordered to—day. The Major
Sahib will soon be back from his visit to the
Residency: if. indccd. the Inglch Sahib has not
made up his mind to keep him for good. Shall
I order the hunt?"

“ At once. Khoda."

The Rajah‘s eyes glowed with rage as he
moved restlessly about on the divaii \\ here he
was lolliiig, while Khoda Khan silently glided
from the saloon to give the orders which n ere to
marshal hundreds of men at a few minutes’
notice for the hunt.

In the saIOon were none left but his slaves
with ihcil‘ fans, and the great man had no one
to whom to vent his spleen in the f01 m of con-
vci‘satioii.

As he lay there. fidgeting and frowning, the
clutter of horses’ feet in the court—yard of the
palace told of the arrival of amounted party,
and the Rajah eagerly eXclziinn d:

“ “'ho is it! Go and see quick!
asleep!" . V

A rush of ohscquious servants to tire window
\"as followed by the report that the "Major
Sahib " had arrived.

" Tell him I wish to see him—instantly!” cried

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the Rajah, angrily; and then he sunk back on
his couch, and waited till Charlton entered the
room.

The American came in with a firm step and

l

on the occasion of his wedding. The name of
~this young Pole was Count Ladislas Poniatow—

. ski; the marriage was to take place on the mor-

an air of some huutcur, for he was more than 1

ever resolved to brook no oppression from the
Rajah. ,
“Your Highness sent for me—I am here,’

was his sole greeting, as he stood before the di- ,

v n.

“ Where have you been?" demanded the
Prince, in a growl like that of a surly dog.

“ I have been to report to the Resident that
your Highness’s palace is infested with Thugs,”
was the uncompromising reply, as Charlton
looked straight into the Prince’s face. It must
be remembered that, owing to the signal given
by Luchniee, Charlton was fully convinced that
the Rajah himself was a Thug.

row; and 1 had just necoinpanicd the bride and
bridegrOom elect, with the old Princess Sapieha,
aunt to my friend, and mother to Mademoiselle

 

 

for Italy, unsuspicious of the danger which had i The Buffalo Empress says:

threatened their happiness with shipwreck at
the very outset of life’s voyace. Could I but
keep up the deception for another twenty-four

: hours, Ladislas and his bride would be safe

Marie, to the theater; where an unusually good I

performance had attracted half IVarsa w.
The carriage lamps flashed past me as the

1 long line of equipac'cs drove rapidly off, moving
over the snow with that sw1ft, silent motion,

He was therefore prepared to witness signs of ,

confusion in the ot ier’s manner,
surprised when Rain Sing stammered:
“Thugs! here in my palace! lui )ossible! You
are mad! The Thugs are all dead ong ago.”
“To show your Hinlmess that they are not,
allow me to say that was yesterday attacked
bya gang of Thugs, that I captured five of them

last night; that some confederate of theirs who i

and was not i

knews the palace well let them out of their cells: I

that they strangled a sentry, and, finally, that
they attacked me last night, a second time, in
my own room.” _

As Charlton proceeded in his summing up,
the Rajah grew paler and paler, and trembled
violently.

“In your own room!" he ejaculated. “IVhy,
then. they may come to me next!”

“ Very possibly, your Highness," answered
Charlton, coolly; “unless, indeed, they rever-
ence on as a chief among princes. In that
case t icy would refrain from harming you.“

“Yes, yes. probably they would,” cried the E

Ra'ah, hastily. " Do you think so, major?"

he fat prince was quite innocent and in carn- - .
' ed instantly, and then came the sound of hurry-

est, but Charlton did not know this. The

American thought that be was being impost ;

on, so he replied: .
“ I feel certain of it your Highness. O
theless, as I do not wish to be strangled myself.

Never— l

I have informed the Resident, and given him : _ .
‘ the first speaker, Opening his own mantle, and

the names of the men who are abroad and the
men I suspect.”
The Rajah looked nervous.

“ And what is the Resident Sahib, going to f _
‘ dai bells. and a trottka-a sled edrawn by three

do?"

“He has taken measures to find them all.
your Higlniess,“——witli a strong emphasis on
the. “all ”—“ and within a few days we expect
to wipe out the stain of Thuggee from the do-
minions of Jng )ore.”

“I hope so, hope so," spluttered the Rajah,
hastily. “The wrctches ought to be punished
—certainly, certainly—Where‘s Khoda.‘ \Vhat
has become of him 3"

“The Vizier was in the court-yard giving
orders as I passed in, yotir Highness.“

“True, true. \Ve are going hunting major.
You know you recommended me to Fit 0 every
day for my health.
to go hunting today, so you must get out
your escort at once."

“Certainly, your Highness; but you will
allow me to say that, had I known we were

" chance of passing me.

which always a )pears so strange and ghostly to
a traveler familiar with the rattle of wheels
over a stone pavement, and the sleet began to
fall more tl-ickly.
that I was followed. Two tall figures, mufiied up
with even more precaution than the shar ) cold
dictated, a pearcd to dog my steps, reg> ting
their pace by mine, and keeping always at the
same distance from me, whatsoever in rate Of
progression. Thinking I might be mistaken I
sauntercd so that the tall men might havea
Those behind me also
diminished their speed. I stepped out briskly,
but in vain.

o .

It did not occur to me that my rtinacious
followers were tliichs. Street rob ei‘ies, once
unheard of, are still rare within the Russian
dominions. I was more inclined to believe this
pursuit was a mere freak of some half intoxi-
cated idlers, and, knowin the ma ical effect

across the frontier.

But what would become of me, or how would
the Russian authorities regard the author of
their discomfiture! True, I had been arrested

‘ in sheer ignorance of the blunder which )I‘OIII-

Suddean it occurred to me ,

My pursuers were not to beshaken i

ised to be so profitable to my friend; but had
had a fair chance of declaring who I was, and
had chosen willfully, it might be said, to mislead
the imperial lice. I had heard—most resi-
dents in RUSSla have heard—ugly stories as to

l
l
l press has
I
l
l

i
l
l
l

what can be done in Muscovv, when it. is no 3
longer needful to hide the hand of steel With the ‘

glove of velvet. Yet I resolved to play out my
part so long as I deemed it indispensable to the
safety of Count Ladislas, and manfully address-
ed myself to confront the hardships of the long
and arduous ~ourney that lay before me.

That terrible ni ht, and the dark and stormy
day that followet it—I think of them yet as

' blasts, the toil to force away through the drifts,

the black pine-woods, the mounted escort, ex-

‘ changed, at every second stage, for fresh Cos- ‘

sacks, and the intensity of the. cold, which so be-

‘ numbed my limbs that, when Minsk was reach-

of politeness on the excitab e Sarmatian nature, ,
I turned so as to front the two men, and, with j _ _ .
i no law. infringed no rule. I claimed myliberty,

ceremonious civility, raised my hat.

“ My lords,” 1 said, in the best Polish I could ‘

muster—every wearer of a cloth coat is “my
lord" in \Varsaw or Cracow—“ I fear you
have mistaken—"

“No mistake at all!” interrupted the taller
of the two, speaking in French. “IVe know
you. monsicur. Call them, Imkoff!”

His companion raised his fingers to his mouth,
and gave a long, shrill whistle. It was answer-

ing feet and the clash of weapons, and I was i
, surrounded and seized by several men, some of
whom Were evidently police, while the others 
' Were soldiers in gray watch-coats.

“ Gag him if he calls for help!" commanded

showing the uniform and medaled-breast of a
Russian major. “ Where loiters the sledge?”
As he spoke, my ear caught the jingle of Val-

horses—came swiftly up. \ 'hat wild horse-
men, with their fur caps and sheepskin pelisses,
a long lance tucked under each right arm, were
those who rode toleft and right of it! Cossacks,
surely. m

“In the emperor‘s name. said the major,

‘ putting his gloved hand on my shoulder, and

Khoda has persuaded inc ‘

going out, I could have ordered the beatch to "

their posts before sunrise."

“ My subjects are ready to go to their )osts at
any time, major," said the Rajah, tartiy; and
he turned away his face
relief as Khoda Khan, obsequious as ever, gllijled

with a look of "reat '

into the room, for the Prince did not like to be i

left alone with Charlton long.
The American, obedient to the orders he had

reCeived, left the presence of the Rajah, and in i

so doin

passed the Vizicr. Khoda Khan
salaam

with an air of the utmost courtesy:

pushing me toward the sledge.
Stupeficd for a moment, I 110w found my

ed, I could not stand, and had to be carried into
the presence of the governor, the frozen effigy
of a man. Feeble made my protest. I was
Hugh Forster, a British subject. I had broken

and, after a most severe cross-examination, and
a detention of three days, I obtained it, but only
in a qualified form, being sent back, under es-
cort, to Warsaw, and thence, after a rigorous
course of questioning, conducted tothe frontier.

“Lucky for on, Mr. Forster,” said the su-

rior officer 0 the police, who had kept me in

is charge, as I stepped into the railway car-
riage, with my through ticket to London be-
tween my fingers, “ that you are a British sub-
ject.”

I thought so too, but augured well for the 1‘

safety of Count Poniatowski from the very fact
of the irritation the authorities displayed: and
indeed, a. year afterward I had the leasure of

' receiving the hearty thanks of my riend and
1 his beautiful wife, on the occasion of their visit

, to England.
‘ when I had

1 peace with the czar.

tongue, and vi orouslv remonstrated tellin '
h e l g

my captors that I was an Englishman, a peaceL
ful traveler, and guiltless of any offense. My
plea was received with utter incredulity.

“ We are not your du
officer who had been ca led Imkoff.

8, count,” said the f
"You 1C

had better give your parole not to attempt re- ;

sistance. or force us to use violence.
long journey which—"

" Are you mad, or by what right—” began
I, boiling with passion, and making a desper-
ate effort to sha 'e myself free, but, though I
dealt a few heavy blows, I was soon over-
powered by superior numbers, my wrists were
mauaclcd, and I was flung into the troitka,
with a policeman at my side.

“ Bon voyage!" sneered the major as I was
dragged away. “Hotter blood than his has
cooled, I warrant you, between Siberia and this.”

Siberia! The dreadful word sent a chill

‘ through my veins, and almost caused me to

but there was the same exasperating smile on .

his lip which Charlton had observed on the day
when Govinda tamed the tiger in the palace
court. However. he said nothing, and Charlton
was compelled to swallow his anger as he left
the room.

As soon as he was gone, the Rajah turned '

eagerly to Khoda Khan, and said in a trembling
vorcc:

“He has been to the Resident, and he 'says
there are Thugs here. Is there any danger,
Khoda?"

“ None to your Highness. If there are Thugs
here, be sure they know their master and kill
none without orders."

“But they killed a sentry of my guard.
Khoda."

“It may be necessary to kill another, before
we have ended our task. your Highness, but
grey, should be proud to die to serve their mas—

.I" - .

And Khoda Khan laughed sneeringly.
[To BE cox'rixi'ED—C.iiiiisxcsn i): No. 1.]

 

HEARTS AT HOME.

BY A. P. MORRIS. JR.

 

 

thn dear ones sever. long to part.
And sighs from bosoms steal.

011. why can not the absent heart
Have all those sighs to feel?

It would not weep to know them all.
'Twerc sweet to share each throc.

For kindred spirits woo the call
To balm affection‘s woe.

How many hearts are distant now.
\\'here sighs nor words can fly! »

‘Vho dream but of a parting vow.
0r hope's bright beaming eye!

The music of the vow still sounds,
Tho‘ faint has grown hope's lyre.
The pulse withlessencd vigor bounds.

And eyes with watching iirc.

“'ould that the mind could waft afar
Its messenger of grief—

Let others share the sighs that are.
And mingle with relief.

How many myriad thoughts!
They perish as they come?—

Too frai to pen, but aching now
In sighing hearts at home!

And how

 

 

Under—IIISSiani—liscort.

“ No, no. thank you! Never mi 1d me! I can
find my way well enough to the i obles’ Club on
foot, and I‘ll wait for you there. if you like,
indislas, after you have seen the ladies safely
home.”

So saying. I wrapped my furred coat more
closely around me. and lifting my hat in parting
salutat/ion to the occupants of the carriage.
turned away. The blackness of the night. as I
traversed the wide. ill-lighted streets, seemed
all the darker by contrast with the bright,
warm theater from which I had just emerged.
The crisp snow crackled beneath my feet. and a
few drops of premonitory sleet lashed my face
as I set out. and gave warning of a coming
storm, while the cold was intense: more bitter
as it seemed to me than any which I had experi-
enced during the two winters I had spent in the

become insensible to the rapid motion through
the air, for the carriage had now started, and

In the i

a’ ing, and these evils are crooked

at such a pace that the Cossacks of the escort i

were com lied to keep their wiry little nags at
u himd-ga lop. As we flew through the deserted
streets, and long after the suburbs were cleared

and the lights Of \Vai’saw were lost to sight. 1 ‘
continued to ponder over the strange event, and ‘

to puzzle myself by vain efforts to guess why I,
an Englishman, quite free from political com-
plications of any sort had been thus suddenly
consigned to exile. I had heard of such arrests,
but never of a foreigner, still less of a British
subject, as their victim.

“This is Stainslawow,” said a voice that I

had heard before, speaking in French, as the .

carriage drew up at the door of a low-roofed
post-house and a fresh relay of horses were har-
nessed and put to. “ And now, count, if you
will take my advice, and promise to abstain
from useless resistance, I shall be hap y to give
orders for the removal of that chain around
your wrists. Come, come, sir, I make all al-
lowance for your excitement at the outset of
the affair, and do not desire to cause you need—
less annoyance.
must remain on until the governor of Minsk—"
“ Minsk!” I repeated, half stupefled.

There had been, I understood,
much dismay, and no small apprehensions,
n missing at the marriage cere-
mony, but fortunately bride and bride In
were out of Russia before the mistake was dis-
covered, and it was not difficult for the count,
who henceforth abjured politics, to make his
I have never been in Rus—
sia since.

 

 

 

EDITED BY HENRY CHADWICK.

 

Base-ball.

THE declared objects of the National League
of Professional Base—ball Clubs as stated in their
constitution, are first “to make base-ball pla -
ing respectable and honorable ”: and secondly
“ to rotect the mutual interests of professional
base clubs and players.”

To accomplish t ese objects there must be
stringent penalties for the three prominent
evils connected with the professional club pla -

play, drunk-
enness, and players betting on games. In the
punishment for these Offenses there should be a
gradation of penalties from the most heinous
offense to the most venial. As it is now in the
League there is no discrimination in-the penalty
inflicted, inasmuch as a player is equally liable
to expulsion whether he sells a game, gets drunk,
breaks his contract or disobeys orders. So says
Sec. 5 of Article 5 of the League constitution.

nothing of its injustice.
and Nichols were justly expelled from the Louis-

5

"From time to time during the season, The Eur- 1

mentioned the efforts of James A. Devlin,

the expelled “ crooked " pitcher of last year‘s Louis-

ville club, to be reinstated into the League and In- t
i temational Associations. Allof his attempts in the

direction of the League were fruitless, and as a finale ,
3 York Racket Clubs. The former, Harry Boakes,

of his histor ' as a League layer, President Hurlbcri
of that orgiinizution, not tied him at Chicago, this

summer, that as long as he (Hurlbert) had anything ,

to do with the League. he (Devlin) should never re-
ceive a reinstatement, and he advrsed him to look to
some other source for a living. Defeated in this sec-

1 tion, be next turned his attention to the International
During the summer he called nion ;

Association.
every member of the Judiciary Committee of t iat

organization. and endeavored to persuade them to 1

He also sent in a petition to that
committee asking for a reinstatement. After some
delay the committee have given their decision. The
vote in the matter stood as follows: Messrs. Spauld-
ing, of Buffalo. and Kelly, of the Manchester's, no a-
tive; Messrs. Lynch,

work in his favor.

THE New York Racket Club court was the
scene of a very interesting series of matches at
English Rackets on December 10th, 12th and

c

13th, on the occasion of at lof professional skill
between the markers 0 the Quebec and New

is an English layer of note, well known as a
professor of t e game in the London Racket
Club courts. More recently he was engaged as

‘ the professional of the Quebec Club, where he is

of Utica, and Waitt, of St. 1

Louis, affirmative; and Mr. Butler, of Lowell, re- ‘
5 fused to have anything to do with the subject."

All honor to Messrs. Spaulding, Kelly and

New Bane-ball Rules.

IVE have not space this week to do more than
give the wording of the new amendments made
in the rules Of the game at the recent League
Convention, and they are as follows:

Section 1 of Rule 111 now reads:

; fore a select and fashionable assemb

' - ' t' in thisi rtant matter. ‘
50me hideoug dream; of the snow‘ the cutting ‘ Butler for their ac ion mp0

“The )itcher‘s position shall be within a space of ‘

round our feet wide by six feet in length, the front

'ne of which shall be distant forty-five feet from the A ‘

center Of the horde-base, and the center of the square
shall be equidisflint from the first and third bases.

Each corner of the square shall be marked by a flat ,

iron plate or stone, 811 inches square, fixed in the
ground even with the surface.”

Section 13 of Rule IV now reads thus: “ The bats-
man shall be declared out by the umpire as follows:

“ If a fair or foul ball be caught before touching the
ground or any object other than the player, pro-
vided it be not caught in the laver‘s hat or ca .

“ If a fair ball be securely he d by a fielder whi e
touching first base with any part 0 his person, be-
fore the base-runner touches said base.

“ If. after three strikes have been called, he fails to
touch first base before the ball is legally held there.

still the marker. John Mahon isa dian,
and has plaved in the Montreal Club. e is the
successor o Keating, who was formerly in the
New York Club court as prdfessional, and now
is the layer of Hicks’s court in Hoboken.
Mahon as shown marked improvement in his
play this season, and, though he was previously
defeated by Keating, it was expected that he
Would give Beaker; trouble to beat him.

The first day’s play was a regular match 
i, an
the result was an easy victory for the nglish
player, des ite the fact that Mahon showed
some ver ne play. It was, on the whole, the

' best disp ay of racket-playing seen in this cit

for years. Boakes exhibiting master] ' ski]
alike in “service” and “returns,” an es
cially in recovery. The full score is given
low:

units.
lBoakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..10204102014—15.
Mahon . . . . . .  . . . . ..0000300100—4.
2Boakes . . . . , . . . . . . ..440011123010—16.
Mahon . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..614]10001103~18.
dBoakes ..030241020021—15.
Mahon . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..00210242010—i2.
4Boakes . . . . . . . . . . . . ..2072000~i——15.
Mahon .. .  1 002004—7.
5 Boakes . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 4 9 011—15.
Mahon...   8030-11.
Total aces—Boakes . . . . . . . .. 76 Mahon. . . . . . . . . ..52
Aces by service—Boakes  26 Mahon.........,.,22
. Aces by returns—Boakes.... 50 Mahon . . . . . . . . . . 
Hands ut out—Boakes..... 48 Mahon..... .  48
Fouls— oakes ..   5Mahon . . . . . . . . . . .. 7

“ If, after three strikes have been called, the ball be ,

caught before touching the round.

" If he plainly attempts to inder the catcher from
catching the ball, evidently Without efiort to make a
fair strike, or makes a ‘ foul strike.’ "

Section 15 of Rule V. reads thus:

“ Any player running the bases shall be declared

I out if. at auv time. while the ball is in play, he be

 

v

ville League club for openly confessed dishonest 1
play. and Craver for “suspected crookedness” .

and open disobedience of orders. This last sca—

. . _ ' radical Chang?
Now this is a very bad policy to ursue, to say ’
In 187 Hall, Devlin i

touched by the ball in the hand of a fielder, without
some )art of his person is touching a base. The bu“
must 1be held by the fielder after touching the run-

ner.

“ If a ball be held by a fielder on the first base before
the base-runner, after hitting a fair ball, touches at
base. he shall be declared out.

“ Any base-runner fuilling to touch the base he runs
for shall be declared out if the ball be held by a
fielder while touchin said base, before the base-run-
ner returns and tone ies it.

“ Any base-runner who shall in any way inter
fere with or obstruct a fielder while attomhiting to
catch a fair fly-ball or a foul ball, shall be eclared
out. If he willfully obstructs a fielder from fielding
a ball he shall be declared out, and, if a batted fair
ball strike him, no base nor run shall beacorcd on
such ball, but each baserunner shall be allowed to
return to the base he left when the ball was hit with-
out bei put out.

“ If a -runner in ninning from home to first-

base shall run inside the foul line, or more than three .

feet outside of it, he shall be declared out."

Section 4 of Rule V was amended by striking out
the last words, name] , “the visiting club shall select
the umpire," and su tituting a clause providing
that instead, when the chosen umpire is not on hand,
the captains of the O posin clubs shall toss for the
choice of um ire. his n l obviate the Dean busi-
ness practic by the Indianapth Club on the Cin-
cinnatls last vear.

In Rule VII a clause was inco rated providing
that when an umpire im es a ne upon a player
the fine cannot be revok . This was done to mine-
dy the evil of forgivenem, which swayed the umpires
last year. Out of all fines imposed, only one was
enforced during the year 1878.

By Ha Wright‘s suggestion, the rules on umpir-
ing were c anged so that the umpire must call every
unfair ball delivered from one to nine, and the ninth
one shall entitle the batter to his base. This is no
except that, instead of calling every
third unfair all, the umpire calls every one up to
nine.

The rule abolishing all foul—bound catches. and
also the bound-catch from three strikes, was 8(l( )pl ed
bv the votes of the Boston, Syracuse, Buffalo and
Cleveland Clubs, the Chicago voting no and Cincini

i nati on neither side. ,
Section 3 of Rule 111 was amended by the addition

son Nolan of the League club of Indianapolis '

\VIIS
in the nternational arena—in which League
rules prevail—MatheWs was e )elled for drunk-
enness as was Leary of the anchcster club.
Here it will be seen not the slightest discrimina-

. tion was shown in the infliction of the penalties

for offenses as different as possible. The de-

. cision in the case of the Louisfille players was

Should you refuse, your irons 3
, But it is very di

The junior of the two Officers who had ar- .
rested me, and who stood beside his reeking 1

horse. smiled.

" It is the nearest fortified place which you ‘

will pass," he said; “for I need not tell you,
Count Ladislas, that we are anxious to t ou
safe across the Bu , and out of Polan 'ill
you give your paro e?”
And then fiashedu

n me, all at once, the key
to the enigma that

ad perplexed me.

. been arrested in the place of my friend and en-

tertainer, whom I suspected, rather than knew,
to be mixed up in one of those wide-spreading
conspiracies in which Poles are so often con-
cci‘ned, and whose heart, I was aware, was bet-
for than his head. As the glare of the torches
fell u 11 us, I could even guess the cause of the
mis e, for in the hurry of leaving the theater
I had put- on the count‘s loose overcoat of rich
sables instead of my own. while in hight and
figure we were much alike. I had the presence
of mind to repress the indignant
my nationality. which was on my 'ps.

"I will give my parole. since you ask it,” I

just and proper. Every “crooked or dishon-
est player should be expelled from every re-
putable club or association and debarred from
forever being employed in a professional club.
erent in the case of a player
guilty of mere disobedience of orders or even
of drunkenness. Both are offenses which are ne-
ccssary to be put down, but they are not offen-
ses which should exclude a player from future
employment.
In fact, while expulsion is a just penalty for

. dishonesty it is unjust in the other cases, and

the League at its last Convention should have
changed the law so as to make expulsion a pen-

? alty only applicable to dishonest players; for

Iliad?

retest as to .

crooked play is a blow aimed at the very life of

rofessional organizations. In the cases of
.Iathews and Leary both players were after-
ward reinstated on giving evidence of reforma-
tion: but the severe penalty of expulsion was not
warranted in either case, no more than it was
in Nolan’s case whose offense was but insubordi-
nation. If a player gets drimk, let him feel the
penalty through his pocket. Dismiss him with
forfeited pay, or fine him so many weeks’

‘ex lled’ for disobedience of orders: and :
' pire may fine the timber from $10 to

 

y.-

So in the case of disobedience of orders, let t em 
feel that it “won‘t pay" to do such things, by ‘

fining them heavily, but do not place such corn-

, paratively minor offenses in the same catego

said, concealing my face as if to hide my emo— ‘

tion. and the chain which fettered my hands
was at once removed.

“It will no longer. count, be necessary that
an officer should accompany you," said Lieu—
tenant lmkofi’, civilly. ' 1 you drink some
brandy before starting! The night is cold, and

‘ the stage a long one."

Russian capital. My own name was Hugh Fors- l

for, and I had just comp] :ted a two vears‘ pro-
bation in the counting-house of the wealthy St.
Petersburg firm of which my father was the
chief London partner, and was now on my re-
turn home. I liad, however. ac‘ccptcd an invi-
tation from a young Polish noble. with whom I
was on intimatc terms. to visit him at \Varsaw

J on my honieward route, and to act as what in

England is familiarly known as “best man “

I shook my head, and made no articulate re-
ply. glad as I should have been of the roposed
dram of coarse brandy, and chilled as? was by
the unusual exposure to the keen night wind.
But I feared to show my face, lest the mistake

with such rascality as that committed by the
Louisville fellows in 1877 by making the penalty
ual.
An effort is being made to elicit sym

thy on
behalf of James A. Devlin, the expel]

pitcher

, of the Louisville nine of 1877, who has a wife and

should be found out too soon for my friend‘s ;

safety. The driver clutched the reins, while a
grim Cossack Corporal took his seat beside me.
in the place lately occupied by the IVarsaw p0-
lice agent. The other troopers were in their
saddles.

“ Forward, there! Push on. men!” cried the
lieutenant, in Russian. and off we set, amidst
howling wind and whirling snow-flakes.

It was not until Stanislawow was left behind.
and l and my wild guards were far on the road,
that I began to reflect that, in providing for the
security of Count Ladislas. I had rhaps seri-
ously compromised my own. l\ y stratagem
had succeeded. M y first captors were convinced
that it was the rich young Polish landOvvner
whom they had dis atched on the dismal jour-
ney to Siberia: an in all likelihood the mar-
riage next morning would take place without
interruption. and the newly-wedded pair start

child in Canada. it is said, whom he is unable ‘
Unfortunately for i
this player there is a princi 1e involved which is ‘
of too vital importance to t 9 future welfare of »

adequately to provide for.

any professional association to disregard, no

matter what the circumstances may be which .

are likely to elicit sym thy for an offender
against honest play.
ling dishonest players is strictly carried out by
every Irofessional association. it will be impos-
sible to insin‘e honest service in the professional

arena in the face of the temptations which ex- ‘
But let it once beunderstood that any play- '

ist.
er found guilty of fraudulent play will be de-
barred from further employment in any profes-
sional nine of repute, and “crooked ” play will
soon be among the thin that were. “'e. feel
sorry for Devlin‘s fam' , and sorry that he
should have been tempt to do as he has done,
but in justice to the honest classof the fraternity
and for the best interests of professional players
as a class, it will not do to reinstate any con-
victcd player, and therefore the fraternity mav
as well bid good-by to the quartette of expelled
players of 1877. Either that or a return to the
old rotten system of the period from 1870 to

1676 and ’77, when there was not a season which .

was not marked by crookedness.

Un eSs the rule of expel- '

of a clause, proposed by Mr. Johnson that the um-
, at his dis-

Hi best score in single innings—Boakes, 9: Mahon
8. Bglank scores—Beakes. 18; Mahon, 23. Time 0
match, 1h. Uni ires, Messrs. Soutter and Smith.
Referee, Mr. La ontagne.

The second trial was an exhibition affair be—

fore invited guests, and though Boakes gave
odds he won four out of six games played.
‘ The last match of the series was played at the
Club Court on Sixth avenue and Twenty-sixth
street, on December 12th. It being ladies' day
and a special occasion the galleries of the court
were graced by an attendance of the beauty and
fashion of New York society, which seemed to
have a very excitin effect on the contestants,
for the both play throughout in the very best
stvle o the art.

‘The match on this Occasion was the best three
in five mes. On Monday but five games in all
were p ayed, but on \Vednesday six had to be
finished before Boakes could win. On the 12th
five games settled the match. but the contest
was a close one throughout. No SUch racket-
playing has ever been seen in the court before,
even with such skilled experts as the New York
Club can now present. The full score of the
match is as follows:

FIRSTOAIE
Manon . . . . . . . . . . . . . , ...0003020102021—11
Boakes .2030002102041—15
sscoxnoax:

Beakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..21020033—11
Mahon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..40000119—]5
THIRDGAIE.

Mahon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 0604011102~15
Boakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..00200102l20—8
FOURTH CAKE.

Mahon. ..1 1020150000—11
Beakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..016200031011——15
nrrnaun.

Beakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..1301400222—15
Manon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 0230103210—12

Boakes. Million.

Aces by service . . . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . .. 25 21
Acesbyreturns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 39 43
Totals..... 64

Referee—Mr. Smith, of the NewYo-rkf‘lub.

Time—One hour and five minutes.

The total score of the three matches is as fol-
lows:

Boakes. Mahon.
Won games . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 5

1 Lost games . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 5 11

Total aces by service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 58

Total aces by retums . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _ 138 106

Total aces scored . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _ . . . . . . 207 164

cretion, as a pena ty for purposely hitting a bals— .

man.

 

Figure Skating on the Ice.

THE Skating nggress of 1868, the last that was
held, adopted a e of rules for figure skating
contests, which comprise twenty—six sections.

The were originally prepared by
gene . Cook, an enthusiastic votary of skating,

After the match there was another contest
consisting of a four-handed match, best two out
of three, in which Messrs. Boakes and Lockhart
were matched against Mahon and Moore. Some

‘ very lively work was done in this encounter,

but Mahon and Moorch-the latter showing up) in
er

. excellent form—proved too strong for the 0t

Mr. Eu- '

who toolkugreat pains to establish a permanent .

code of es for skating contests, which he has
fully succeeded in doing. The rules are as fol-
lows:

No. 1.
Movnims'r.—This is simpl the plainest form
of skating, and the sto ta. en is a short one in
comparison to that of e outside roll.

No. 2. LAP FOOT—A8 IN THE FIELD Snap

PLAIN FORWARD AND BACKWARD'

AND IN CU'l'l‘ING A CIRCLE—This is the move ‘

ment preliminary to the acquirement of the
outside edge roll.

othelr, thereby obliging the skater to form a
one e.

No. 3. OUTSIDE Enos: ROLL FORWARD—By
this the skater makes almost half a circle, While
leaning alternate] to the right and left on the
outer edge of his s ate. It is one of the easiest

and most graceful of thep me figures.
No.4. U'rsIDi: EDGE OLL BACKWARD—
This is the same style of movement made

while going backward. In doing both of these

rolls the skater, at the finish of each roll, i

changes the edge slightly so as to obtain the

necessary impetus for the roll on the other side. I

No. 5. INSIDE EDGE ROLL FORWARD—This is j 71 and 73 Mmmle street,

the same form of roll as the outer edge, as re-

on the inside edge. It is in fact an extension of
the plain forward movement, substituting half
circles on the inside instead of a short and near-
1y straight cut.

No. 6. INSIDE EDGE ROLL BAC‘KWARD—This
is the same movement done backward. It is

It consists of a series of for— .
i ward steps in which one foot laps over the

two, as the score below shows:

Mahon and Moore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 15 10 15—55

Boakes and Lockhart... 8 8 15 6—37
This ended the series of matches which have

resulted in uite an interest being raised in re-

gard to  rackets.

 

Billiards.

A GRAND international billiard tournament
will he held at the Cooper Union, commencing
on Monday. January 14, and will terminate on
the follOwing Saturday. The layers will be
Sexton, Rudolphe, Slosson, Garmer, Daly, Dion,
Schaefer, and either Gallagher, of St. Louis. or
Randolph Heiser, of Boston.

C “SS.

canes PLAYERS“ Drancroav.

NEW YORK Canes Rooms—Cafe Enge]. No. 356
Bowery.

Truman HALL Cams Cum—Nos. 66 and 68 East
Fourth street.

NEW YORK Ca CLUB.—Café Cosmopolitan, No.
1 1-2 Second avenue.

MANHATTAN Class Cunt—Cafe Logeling, No. 49
Bowery.

Tin: Bacon.“ Cm Cu'n meets daily in the
Brooklyn Library Building. Montague street. ‘

\VXLLIAISBVRG Panama Cams Cum—Turn Hall,
Meets for play on Wednes-

‘ da and Friday evenings.
gards the extent of the circle, only it is made ‘ y

more difficult to accomplish than the outer edge .

backward the loss of balance being easier.
No. 7.— an Caoss ROLL FORWARD.—This is

simply an extension of the la foot movement— ,

a sort of reverse of the outsi e edge roll, in one 1

respect. It is the primary movement in learn-
ing‘ most of the difficult figures which follow it.
'o. S.—THE Caoss ROLL BACKWARD.—The

being done backward.

same movement, only in a more difficult form,

No. 9.—CIIANGI-: or EDGE ROLL, FORWARD— '

BEGINNING EITHER ON OUTSIDE on INSIDE EDGE.—
This enables the skater to make a double curved
line, the one following the outside ed roll
half-circle bein made on the other si e by a
dextrous turn 0 the foot from one edge to the
other. The two lines thus made form the out.
‘. side lines of an oblong figure of eight.
i No. IO.-—CHANGE or EDGE ROLL, BACKWARD.
It —This is the same, except in its bein a back-
ward movement and more difficult in
on the change.
, The above are the mential rules in learning to
, become a good skater.

lancing

PROBLEM, ’N o. o.

nv‘h. c.

 

 

BLACK.

71/, ‘ 7/2///
W 

Wmlmwm

WW   /'///./’4
W //// )7 ,V
v/ [1'  - //', /

7/////// 9/? . ~ I /'  

¢7//// ,

 

71/,

 
  

 

I, If/  r ..  ’ /:/)/ //’-'/ " ' " WM
.1],  /  / // /.,,7//
7,7, 3... g/Qm
flax/I /  W/ 
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/'.//«>

MiM méM

 

 

M % % a

 

wnrrE.
White to play and mate in two moves

1—29

 

    

 

   
   

 

 

 

  
   
   
      
            

00

 

 

 

   
 

 

 

 

   

 

A Brilliant Game.

WE give below the score of a game played by
our American chess-player, Mason, against Cap-
tain Mackenzie in the Paris Tourne '.

Mr. Steinitz, in hisletters to the London Field,
says of this game:
brilliant that it marks the game as one of the
finest that ever occurred in a great contest."

The following is the score:

warm. BLACK
Ca )t. M. Mr. M
1 P. .4 1. P. K. 3
2P.Q.4 2.P.%4
3 Q.ht.B.3 3. K. t.B.d
4. 1. takes P 4. P. takes P
5. Kt. K. B. 8 5. B. Q. 3
6. B. Q. 3 6. Castles
T. Castles 7.  Kt. B. 3
8. B. K. Kt.5 8. t.K 2(a)
9. B. takes Kt. 9. P. takes B.
10. Kt. K. R. 4 10. K. Kt. mm
11.  K. R. 5 11. R.
12. .K.B.4 12. P. .B.3
~ 13. it. B. 3 13. Kt. t. 8
14. Q. R. K. B. 14.  . B. 2
15. kt. K. 2 15. . .2
16. Kt. Kt. 3 16.  K. Kt
7.  R. 6(ch.) 17. . takesg
18. kt. (R. 4) B (ch) 18. B. takes t
19. Kt. takes 8. (ch.) 19. K. R. 4
20. P. Kt. 4. «ch.» 20. K. takes P
21. R. Kt. 8 ich.) 21. K. R. 4
'22. B. mates.

Time, 1 3-1 hours.

The Captain‘s notes are as follows:

(a) In the second game between Blackburne and
Zukertort. in the seventh round, Mr. Blackburne
made this move in a precisely similar position. In
his notes to that ame. Steinitz points out the course
of day which W ite must adopt. to win—the same
ast rat taken by Capt. )1. here.

4b.) Kt. Kt. 3 is much to be preferred.

\Vc cannot give better advice to our Chess
students than to take out their boards. play this
game through as above. and discuss the whv
and wherefore of every move. It will teach
them more of Chess than a dozen games at will.

 

Chess Notes.

BY an arrangement. which has just been ef-
fected. the Philadelphia Library Company will
subscribe one-half of the $3,000 necessary to se—
cure the valuable Ches library of the late Pro-
fessor George Allen, and the University of Penn-
sylvania Chem Club the other half. The libra-
rv is to be laced in the Ridgway Building. at
Broad and Christian streets, Philadelphia.

 

 

 

 

Hare and Hounds Clubs.

THE following letter explains itself:

“ Saw Your. Dec. 10th, 1878.
" Em’ron or THE Yorso Nizw YORKER:
“ DEAR SIR—We saw in vour issue of the 9th inst..
a suggestion in regard to the formation of clubs for
laying the old English game of ‘ Hare and Hounds.‘
Vc are anxious to join any club in this city that
may be already started. or is in prOccss of organiza-
tion. by boys of our own age. viz.: 16 vcars.
iut'onnzition in regard to such a club will be thank—
fully received by yours. most respectfullv,
" GEORGE BI:sz and
" FREDERICK JAEHL.
“ PS—We are employed at A. T. Stewart & Co‘s."
“’0 are. glad to receive this letter, inasmuch
as it heralds the revival of a very fascinating
and valuable sport. For the sake of Messrs.
Benze and Jaehl, and thousands of others in the

same case, we Wlll say a few words on Hare and l

Hounds Clubs.
There need be no trouble in forming such a

club anywhere. Do not wait for some one else. j

but start one at once yourselves if you only

“The termination was so ,

j certificate of membershi , an any person not a

tu of war, final pulls; 7, two—mile walk: 5,
ha f-mile run; 9, professional tug of war, final
pulls; 10, bicycle race. two miles; 11, amateur
tuglof war, final pulls.

. . edals will be given to first, second and third
in each game, excepting the tug of war where
a prize will be given to each member of t 1e win—
ning team. An entrance fee (not returnable) of
$1 per man for each and every game, must ac-
company all entries, and in case an entry is ac-
cepted, the person entering will receive a corn-
petitor’s tic 'et, which admits him both even—
ings. Entrance fee foreach amateur tug of war
team, $5. Three substitutes allowed. Dress
must consist of shirt and loose drawers to the '
knee. No person will be allowed to compete
unless properlv attired. This rule willbe strict-
1y enforced. o competitor will be allowed to
enter under a false name, and the ri lit to re-
fuse or strike out any entry is reserv . Mem-
bers of athletic or rowing associations, unless ‘
knewn to the club, will be r uired to furnish a

member of a recogni club must be properly
introduced by some well-known person who can

, vouch for his being an amateur. Tug of war

Any ‘

, ( one the same thing in England. The feat wi

teams must represent some club or association.
Persons entering for the handicap ames are re-
uested to send their record, also is eir address.
amateur is a person who has never compe- .
ted in an open competition, or for a stake, or for
public money, or for admission money, or with "
professionals for a prize. public money, or ad-
llll§lOll money; nor has ever. at any riod of
his life, taught or amisted in the ursuit of ath-
letic exercisesas a means of liveli 00d.

The professional tug is international. and will

for a )urse of money. As nearly all who en-
ter. will 0 so without any training. want of con-
dition should not. prevent persons from taking
part. A special pedestrian track. one-eighth of
a mile. will be built, heated dressing-rooms will
be provided and everything possible will be done
for the comfort and convenience of competitors.
A‘section will be set aside for competitors to
witness the games. No communication will re—
cerve attention unless addressed to the club box.
and all persons are particularlv requested not to
call upon the officers of the club at their places of
business.

Entries will close on Thursday, December 20th. ‘
arid must be addremed to the Secretary. New
\ork Athletic Club, post—office box 3.101 New
York City. '

“'e hope to see the readers of THE YOUNG
NEw YORKER well represented.

 

Lady Walkers.

_ THE ladies are coming to the front as walkers. .
smce Bertha Von Hillern set them a good ex-
am 1e. Miss May Marshall. who was defeated
by iss Von Hillern in their first match. some
years ago, has reatly improved in style and
action. and has just beaten an o ponent of no I
mean )retcnsions. Daniel Carroll, of Warren,
Pa., c allenged her to a hundred-mile-walk. -‘
which began at midni ht of December 12th, at ,
J amestown, New Yor . Miss May beat him at ’
the end of twenty-three hours and a half by one 1
lap of the course, having gained on him steadily g
after the fiftieth mile.

Next comes Madame Ada Anderson. from
En land, who started on Monday, Dec. 16th. to
wa k 2,700 quarter-miles in 2,700 consecutive

uarter-houis, in Brooklyn. She has already

1

occupy :26 days.

Assaults at Arms. x

. THE New York Athletic Club announces that 
it will give some time next February “ a grand :
assault at arms, comprisin the amateur chain- !
x

l

 

pionships in n'ing at t e different weights,

_ fencing with oils, bayonet tersth saber, broad-

swords. and probably special purses for rofes-
sional boxers. The entertainment wil take

have half a. dozen members. Once begun, the 1 place inalarge hall or theater.”

club will increase rapidly. In a house like that l

of A. T. Stewart & Co., which emplovs hun-
dreds of young men. it ought not to

This entertainment can be made very attrac-
tive if the club steers clear of the objectionable

\e hard to ‘ features which attended its meeting last year.

find a dozen or twent ' of the same age willing ‘. The riparring contests on that occasion were al—

to joiii a Hare and

ounds Club. Go to your ‘

lowe to degenerate into savage glove-fights, in

friends then, and get them to meet together ; one of whichaman was knockedsenseless.

next Saturday afternoon. organize a club. choose boxing and more of

ure amaults of skill with

ofiiceisxand lav out the ground for a run next . different weapons wil make the entertainment

week. ’ou will need a captain. two lieutenants,
or “ whi rs-in," to keep the Hounds together,
and two ares. The captain can act as presi-
dent at your business meetings, and we would

suggest a regular organization and small dries. ‘

to pay for official correspondence. Take only
members who live near each other. for conve-
nience of iircetin s: choose a'srmple tmiform:

attractive to the respzc'table portion of the au-
glence. If the roug keep away, so much the
tter.

Athletic Notes.

THE “'averl Athletic Union was organized
on December 1:..th, 1878 at 32‘.) East Tenth street,

then go ahead am have 'our first run as soon as ‘ NVW Ym‘k Cityy With C- Leo Sellan in the

)ssible. To excite emu ation it might be well
or your club to call itself the “ Stewart Hare
and Hounds Club." and to get upa race between
your organization and one mar e up of the em—
loyees of some other great dry-goods house,
'kc Arnold & Constable. Jafl’rav‘s, Clafiin's.
etc. “Fe hope to hear of such clubs and races
before January. so that the merits of the rcspcc
tive Hares and Hounds may be decided—for a
week at least.

The following letter. received since the above.
was in type. is also of great interest in this con-
nection:

" New Your. DEC. 13th, 1878.
“ Enrron YOI'NG New Yonxan:

“ Allow me to con atulate. you on the success of

your paper, and, at t c same time, to thank '011 for

your very accurate description of the first 0 use of ;

the ‘ Westchester Hare and Hounds.‘ I am a mem-

ber of that organization, as also a member of the '

‘ Harlem Athletic Club.‘ and can speak from ex ri-
ence. when I say that if all oung men and b3) 5
were to take your advice and orm athletic clubs. or
employ their spare hours in out-door exercisri, they
would find that it pays better than to join numerous
social clubs, such as this cit ' abounds with, and pass

their time in confined clu -rooms, smokin civnrs ,

and thinking beer. The next chase of the .

comes of! on Christmas Day. We expect to have a 1'

gloribus run of some twenty miles across the coun-

try, and I shall try and send you a descri tion of the 5

chase. Renewing my wish for the we are of your
valuable per,
“ remain, dear sir. yours respectfully.
“ ‘ Horse. ‘ “

r

l

TVe can assure all the “ Hounds,"as well as j

the “Hares” that THE YOUNG NEW YORKER
intends to be represented at that Christmas
meet, at all events at the start. As the editor
does not as yet feel competent to follow the

1

whole twenty miles promised by “Hound.” he 5

will be compelled to trust to the unimpeached

honor of the pack for a full description of the ‘

hardest part of the run.

New York Athletic Club.

THE second annual winter meeting of the New
York Athletic Club will be held on the evenings
of Friday and Saturday Jan. 3d and 4th, 1879,
at Gilmore's Garden.
as follows:

Fiasr EVENIxo.—1, 75 ards run, trials: 2,

l

4
c

; move.

2

- used by Bogardus and others in tralrshooting.
he programme will be 1 They cost from two to five dollars, but are

‘ almost any time, with reasonable care.

440 yards run, trials; 3, mile walk to those who ; V
have never beaten 8:30, trials; 4, 75 yards run, ; ball by a wire in front of his target, set it to j
; swinging, and fire at it while in motion. Every ;

second trials; 5, amateur tug of war, trial pulls,
open to teams Of ten men; 6, 220 yards run,
trial; 7, one-mile run; 8, 440 yards hurdle race,

10, Seventh Regiment tug of war, trial pulls,
open to teams of six men.

Sworn EVENING.—l, 75 yards run, final; 2,
440 ards run. final; 3. professional tug of war,
tria pulls, teams of five men; 4, the one-mile
walk (8230) final; 5, 220 yards hurdle race, two
hurdles, 2i

QB§_.____-- 

r

chair. The following officers were elected for a
term of three months: Captain, Joseph Eliard,
J r.: Vice-Ca itain, G. F. Goldsmith: Secretary,
2. Meyer: reasurei'. W. Club: Sergeant-at-
Arnis,J. Bronks.

THE O'Leary and Cainpana walk is settled on
at last. The men met in New York, December
12th. at the Brewer House. They then drew up
and signed the articles of agreement to govern
the six days’ walk. There was nothing of any
special interest in_ the articles, as they merely
covered the terms of the match as already
printed. The party then went over to Gilmore 3
Garden, and Cam

no took a spin round the
track. expressin

imself highly leased with
the lace selectet for the match. hey begin to
wed Monday, December 23d, and are to keep
going all Christmas week.

 

 

Dr. Carver-’3 Secret.
WHEN a novice, by dint of careful practice

from a. rest, has become able to hit an inch spot
I on a white target every time at fifty feet, he

can begin at moving objects.

Shooting from a. standing position at a sta-
tionary mark is not to be recommended for

oung hunters. It gets the marksman into the
bad habit of dwelling too long on his aim to
make a better shot, and is fatal to success at
moving objects. A sensible hunter, firing at a
grazing deer, always takes a rest when he can,
and only fires standing when his game is on the

When perfect accuracy is attained at small
stationary objects, firing from a rest, it is time
to begin at moving objects from a standing po-
sition. To do so it is well to procure at a un-
smith’s a “ ringing ball” of hell metal. T ese
balls are made the same size as the glass balls

economical in the end, as one of them will last

If the marksman is alone, he can suspend this

freliable as the breaking of a glass ball. A:
ten hurdles, 2 feet six inches; 9, 220 yards final: =

l
l
l
l
g

l

time it is struck, it gives a decided ring. just as 
l

novice should begin with one of these ringing
balls at ten feet. It will probably take him at l
least a hundred shots before he hits it, and l
therefore saving of ammunition becomes a seri-
ous consideration of expense.

If the marksman can aflord to get a .22 calibre

‘ rifle in addition to his regular hunting rifle he
eetsixlnches; 6, Seventh Regiment x will find it an advantage in this practice, as

 

E rested over a month.

the ammunition costs about one-third of that

which he uses in the larger gun. The sight-
ing should be exactly the same. It is harder
to hit a small object with a .273 calibre bullet
than with one of .40 calibre, therefore the change
from the small bore to the large one will make
the shooting easier, when you practice at game.
After once on have acquired the knack cf
hitting a swinging ball at ten feet, it will be
found easier to. go back to the longer stages up
to fifty or seventy-five feet.

After becoming perfect at the swinging ball.
take an assistant with you, and let him throw
the ball iii the air while you try to hit it. A
much shorter practice will make you perfect
in this branch of shooting. “'hen you can hit
the ball at will with the .22 calibre rifle, you

. need not fear but you will be able to repeat ,

the feat with the .40 calibre, without wasting ‘
ammunition.
These practices and others like them are the

, whole secret of the wonderful feats of Dr. Car-

ver. and he himself assures us that they may he
imitated by any gerson with good eyesight and
steady nerves. ractice, to educate eye and
nurse e to act together, is the sole means of ob—

. tainiiig success.

 

Glass Ball Shooting.
THE Shrewsbury Gun Club. of Red Bank.

1 met Dec. 10th, in the driving rain storm, and
, shot off their regular semi-monthly contest for

the club badge. For this there were eight
competitors, at fifteen balls: Parker trap: tics
shot Off at five balls each. The badge was won
by Mr. John B. Bergen. A pretty trifle in the
shape of an ornamental leather badgc. is gll‘cll
tot 10 member making the lowest score. Mr.

Davis won this trophy. The following was

THE SCORE.

Broken.
GeorgeH.“’ilds....111101110101111 1‘1
Henry C.“'liite...010011011011110 0
Charles Sulwell. 011110100110000 7
Dr. G. F. )Iaisdcn..011100110100011 s
Tcnbrookllavis ...000101101000011 l;
JohnB.Bci‘gcn.....011111110111110 12
TuborPiii-kcr ..100011100111111 10
S.W.)lorford,...10010111111110] 11

THE TIE SHOT or-‘r.
JohnB.Bergen.....111111011011110 12
GeorgeH.\\'ilds....111111011011100 11

 

Long-Range Marksmanship.
IN the practice-shooting of the Columbia Rifle
Association. Dec. 13th, at their grormds, “'ash-
ington, D. C., the following scores were made.

. on a gray cloudy day, with a wind varying

from right to left:

Yards. COLONEL J. o. P. araxsmr. Totals.
800 . . . . . . . . . ..555455445555555~7‘3
900 . . . . . . . . . ..555555555555535—75
1,000.. .545544445555553—68_215
J. 1LT. mar-run.
800 . . . . . . . . ..554555553555555—72
000 . . . . . . , . , ..455555555555555—7-l .
1.000 . . . . . . . . ..555555555545354—71—217

The Columbia Rifle Amociation is one of the
youngest in the country, but it has already pro
duced some of the most brilliant marksmeu ever
seen.

next year.
gentlemen above-named could have made was
only 450, and out of this they rolled up 432. or,

in other words, 96 per cent. of what the score ;

might have been had both made bull’s-eyes at
every shot.

 

Rod and Gun Notes.
THE Excelsior Shooting Club of Brooklyn,

held a match, Dec. 12th, won by Mr. Henry f

A. Flembrand.

MEssas. LAMBERTSON and Van Backle, of the
Midway Gun Club, of Matawan, N. J ., tied each
other three times over in trials of ten shots each.
for a valuable breech-loader offered by the club,
Dec. 12th. The Midway Club has some of the
best shots in New Jersey.

THE New York Association for the Protection
of Game met durin the week in New York City,

President Robert . Roosevelt in the chair. A

These scores are a sum 1e of what almost 1'
l every member of the American team will do ‘
The total possible which the two 1

Cornell was concerned, that college sent a
straight challenge to Harvard last month, but
after waiting six weeks in vain, the secretary
of Cornell‘s crew wrote again and received the
following reply:

“ Consumes, Mass. Dec. 4th, 1878.
“ Ma. MORSE:

“DEAR Sin—I have received your note of Nov.
20th and would ask pardon for the delay in not an-
swering (lcfluitely the challenge. we received from
you. Two or three days after the meeting in which
it was voted to accept your challenge, circumstances
arose that made it impossible. for us to send a posi~
tive answer. and it was decided to pospone writing
until we knew whether we could row. As yet I am
sorry to say. matters are not clear, but we are very
anxious to row and ho )e you will keep your crew in
training. \Ve will sen a definite answer as soon as
we can, which I hope will be within a. week or two.
Hoping the delay will be pardoned,l am very re-
spectfully, yours,

“ l‘ltElMSlllCK ALLEN. Secretary H. U. B. C."

Only two days later the following appeared
in T he Crimson, the Harvard College paper.

“ It does not affect Yale and Harvard to be called
cowards by Cornell and Columbia. All their talk
will not make Harvard and Yale feel anything but
that a race with Cornell and Columbia is a very
secondary affair. and that their own annual race is.

brass trigger with a look of wonder which be
interpreted aright, and left off killing birds sus-
ceptible of the same training. He leaves his
chamber window open at night, and when he

. awach early in the morning he often finds a

robin or goldfinch hopping about on the bed~
posts or on the back of a chair close by, trying to
say or sing in the best articulation of its speech.
“ It‘s time to get up; come and see the flowers:
a dew of pearl is on their leaves and the sun is
above the sea." And what is more beautiful
still, and full of poetry, these birds follow him
to the sanctuary on Sunday, a distance of more
than a mile from his house, as a kind of aerial
escort. singing their Sabbath psalms of gladness
and praise on their way. “'hen the indoor ser-

‘ vice is ended they meet him on his return and

to them at least. the most important race they can -

row. With Columbia. Cornell and other colleges we
have no quarrel. and the losing or winning of a race
with them is a matter of almost perfect indifference.
to this university at least. “’ith Yale on thecon-
trary, our yearly contest is of vital interest. When
the. ll. A. A. C. was still alive the question each year
was not. ‘ Who wont" but. ‘ Did we beat Yale?‘ "

Naturally this soothing little article produced
its effect on Cornell. already impatient at the
delay in answer. and Mr. Morsc soon sent the
last shot of.thc controversy in this wise:

"l'l‘lIAI‘A. N. Y. llcc. lllll‘r. 1e7~2
“ )IR. ALLEN:

" DEAR Slit—Your letter of December 11h has ln-o-ll
received and dilly considered. We l'i‘;:1‘t~t that the
nature of your reply makes it necessary for us in
wlthdraw thc challenge we have Sr'lll you. \\'c—-
judging by the experience of former years. when we
were kept in suspense fora long period. to our great
detriment—winsider no other cornsc advisable.

" Therefore we consider ourselves justified. under
the circumstances. in withdrawing the challenge. rc-
grettiiig that your action has made it necessary.

" Respm-tfully. vouis.

“ ED. R. .IousE. Secretary Cornell Navy."

This of course decides the question at the
same time that it leaves Harvard in a very
foolish position in the rowing world. Both
Cornell and Columbia have beaten Harvard in
times past, and Columbia has Won a victory
in England over the same course and against
the same rivals by whom Harvard was de-
cisively defeated eight years since. For Har-
vard to pretend to look down on such antagonists
as “secondary,” is in very questionable taste.
and We hope that the crimson does not represent
college opinion at Harvard. As the controversy
stands, Cornell and Columbia will have no need
to call any one “ cowards.” The world at large
will judge both parties fairly.

 

Yachting and Rowing Notes.

ROBERT WATSON BOYD is the latest English
sculler of note. His backers want to row him
against any man iii the world for three miles.

WILLIAM SPENCER. of London. beat Charles
, Bullman in a race over the Thames Champion
‘ Course, on the letliof November. by six lengths.
; “'ILLIAM ELLIOTT, present English sculling
l champion. is at work training for his match

' against John Higgins. Feb. 17th. lNi'll. The win» .

ner will be game for our Hanlon.

r AL'S'I‘RALIAN oarsmen were greatlv excited
over the race between Messenger. of Melbourne.
1 and Laycock. of Sydney. rowed on the Para-
] inalta river, September 14th. Lachck won.
1 He stands six feet two inches, and weighs 180
pounds. Messenger was :21 pounds lighter.

 

 

report of the work of the association brought 1

out these facts: Last year it procured the pas-
sage of a law
South Bay of ng Island. Two years ago, in
consequence of the use of pound-nets the fish-
ing had so far deteriorated that it had been
almost abandoned. The new law had been en-
forced with astonishing results. Last year it

was not an unusual thing for one boat alone to I

take 250 blue-fish in a single da .

This association should be Joined by every
young sportsman who does not believe in exter-
minating our ame and fish. To find particu-
lars, address on. Robert G. Roosevelt. Presi-
dent N. Y. A. P. G., New York City.

 

 

A Long Yacht Cruise.
A YACHT thirty-two feet long and of three 5
tons burden, has just arrived in Cleveland after 1

an absence of more than two years, in which
5,093 miles were sailed. From Cleveland. in
October, 1870, she went; by way of the Ohio
Canal and the Ohio river to Cincinnati. but at

Moscow, twenty-eight miles above Cincinnati, 9

she was frozen up in December, and went into
winter quarters. The following spring and
summer were consumed leisurely in the Ohio
river, so that it was not till November that she
entered the Mississippi. New Orleans was
reached early in January. and there the party
In February they passed
into the Gulf and turned their prow eastward
shootin alligators for their amusement, an

being ven ashore now and then in a. gale.
Two months were passed cruising in and around
the bays of the Florida coast, exploring coves
and inlets, studying immense sponge reefs and
examining ancient Indian mounds along the
shore. In June they turned the southern point
of Florida and were in the Atlantic. Sailin

northward, they were driven away from severa
ports in consequence of the quarantine regula-
tions growin
South. At C iarleston they were admitted, and
remained there four days. Fearing to round
Cape Hatteras, they went through the Dismal
Swamp canal. The captain relates that in this
canal, surrounded as they were by the great
swam they could at almost any time reach
out wrt apole and touch a snake. then the
overhanging vegetation was brushed, as some—
times ha pened, by the boat, a snake was
usually 5 ken onto the boat, from which it
would glide swiftly into the water. The re-
mainder of the voyage was inland. Proceeding
up the Chesapeake Bay. the yacht passed up the
Delaware and Hudson rivers and the Erie
Canal to Buffalo, whence the vo agers sailed on
the lake to Cleveland. where t e arrived last
Monday momin . The name 0 the yacht is
the Okaresta, a the captain of it, F. lV. Ed-
munds. .

 

Cornell and Harvard.

I'r seems after all. that the rowing world
was premature in concluding that Cornell and
Harvard were to row next spring. As far as

rotecting the fish in the Great I

out of the yellow fever in the t

l Philadelphia. Pigeon Flying.

f PROBABLY there is no city in the Union in
I which this s
i adelpliia. he Quaker Citv was never far he-
hindhand in any sport. Did not her cricket
club stand its own with the Australians:
several years she had her base-ball nine called
“ Champions.” Now, is she going to show the
white feather in this sport, not new. but new to
Young America! She answers this herself ;
Take up the last Sunday papers and you will
find records of several races, not only b ' pro-
femionals, but by amateurs. Boys have joined
hands to make t is pleasant sport more progres-
sive, and at this time we have no less than four
5 amateur pigeon clubs. To use the words of an
: Old pi eon-fancier: “They all have the fever
; bad. ven old men, who have gone through
‘ the igeon—fever eight or ten times. have
' it.” T hope more Young Americans will wukcn
7 up and “' get it.” S. N. L.

 

Bird-Taming.
1 IT was all an incident to his benevolent dispo-
sition, not ' a premeditated design. It coni-
inenced when he was laying out the grounds of
. his little dell park. “ hile at work upon the
walks and flower beds, and turning up the fresh
earth with his spade or rake, several of the little

birds would come down from the trees and hop ;

along after him a little distance. picking up the
worms and insects. By walking gently and
lookin and speaking kindly when they were
near, tiev came first to regard his approach
without fear, then with confidence. They soon

learned the sound of his voice and seemed to un— ‘

‘ derstand the meaning of his simple. set words of
- caressing. Little by little thev ventured near-
er and nearer, close to his rake and hoe, and
fluttered and wrestled and twittered in the con-
test for a. worm or fly, sometimes hopping upon
I the head of his rake in their excitement.
by day they became more trustful and tame.
. They watched him in the morning from the
1 trees near his door and followed him to his work.
1 New birds joined the company daily, and they

all acted as if he had no other interest in raking :

the ground than to find them a breakfast. As
the number increased he began to carry crusts
of bread in the great outside pocket of his coat,

ground. \thn his walks were all finished. and
he used the spade and rake less frequently, the

, saucc.

rt has become so universal as Phil- '

For 9

Day 1
, first) for the “next turn-out.”

v animal. very docile and tractable—his mottl
‘ gray coat the pride of groom and the ad

- establishment,

escort him home with a new set of hymns.—
Elihu Burril. '

 

Mating Canaries.

CANARIES should never be allowed to mate
oftener than twicc in any one year. Some will
raise as many as four littci‘s. if not prevented:
but a third mating is always injurious, and
often brings on a disease which uite ruins the
male bird as a singer. The canaries. while mat-
ing. should be fed on hard-lmilcd eggs and corn-
inon ovster crackers. well soaked in ltoiled milk.
but. of course. made cool before being fed to the
birds. Hemp-seed should not be used, as it fat—
tciis the birds. A piccc of raw beef. highlv sea-
soned with caycnnc (i'cd‘. pepper. should lie fed
them as often as once lll each week. The cage
should not be moved if it can beavoidcd. and
should hang in a darkened room.

All canarics, while mating. likc privacy.
When the eggs are hatched. feed the voung
birds on the yellow of hard—boiled eggs for two
weeks. afterthiit mix hard. dry crackers with
egg and fcrd. Srinctiiiies the hen canai'v be-
gins to make her iicst before the youngr birds are
able to leave it. At such times put a new nest
in the cage. and leave plenty of food for the new-
comers. as the mother often leaves them uncured
for. Bits Of tissue paper cut in fine pieces should
be thrown around the new nest. in order to pre-
vent the hen frorn picking the old one to pieces.
Cotton should not be used, as it is highly injuri-
ous to the feet of the canarics: they often get
caught in it. and are quite frequentlv made
cripples for life. '

Cooking Game.

THE Chicago Field gives excellent directions
about cooking game. which we commend to our
young sportsmen as correct:

" The best way to cook all game is to roast it:
but if it must be baked, too hot an oven should
be avoided. Don't cook too long—no kind of
game should have the juices dried out of it.
\Vild ducks are improved by a wine—port—
Snipc and woodcocks are cooked with-
out drawing the trail—as the entrails are called
—which is considered the most delicate portion.
Quail and grouse require a nice bread sauce, and
are not to be despised with cranberry or red
currant jelly. and the latter lends greatly to the
appreciation of rabbit and venison. Rabbit stew-
ed with a little bacon and lemon-peel and made
into pie is no mean cold dish.

 

A Famous Fire-Horse.

AT the latter part of the spring of 1564 “Our
Bruce " was born. He began to show signs of a
promising hunter of over sixteen hands, and in
due course commenced his training for the chase.
At five years old he had grown to a beautiful

tion of his master. " Our Bruce ” in the
ing»iield once stumbled. and in consequenc
the confidence-Of his master. who di

him to the Manchester Carriage Company.
the early part of the year 1870 he was sold b

v the Carriage Company to the Manchester Cor-

poration for the fire-engine department, and

. commenced his duties on the 24th of March.

His general appearance and kind, tractable,
willing ways were scon noticed by the firemen,
and in less than a month after he joined the
brigade he was the favorite of the whole
having pretty well the free
run of the yard, iii w ich be caused much
diversion by his singular and funn ways.
He was always full of innocent misc ief, and
one of his greatest delight-s was to chase the
men about the yard. It sometimes happened
that he was let out for a gambol when the
children were playing; and on such occa-
sions it was most interesting to notice how care-
ful he was in not going too near them: at other
times. when the engines were in the yard he
seemed not to forget his early training as a
hunter. and would amuse himself by jumping
over the poles. When tired, he would lift the
latch of the door and go into the stable; and
just as easily. after a rest, when the stable-door
was closed. he would let himself out again, 01'
knock loudl ' at the door to attract attention.

, Near the sta le-door there is a water—tub with a

revolving handle. “ Our Bruce " would turn the
handle with ease. and help himself to a drink.
It sometimes happened that a hose-pipe would
be attached to the tap: this would not cause him
the least inconvenience: in such a case, after
turning on the tap. he would lift 11 the end of
the hosespipe with his teeth. and ho d the end iii
his month until he had satisfied his thirst.
Many curious anecdotes could be told about om-
pet: how. on one occasion, he picked up the
end of the hose and wetted one of the firemen
who had offended him: how at a fire he would
stand amidst the greatest noise and excitement
and showers of sparks'falling arormd him and on
his beautiful coat, only to be shaken off, and at
other times completely enveloped in smoke; but
there was no shying or fretting under fire or
smoke with “()ur Bruce:” he seemed to know
that he had brought those who would fight that.
ruthless tyrant, fire, and he stood proud and
confident that before long he would return borne
with the victors, when, after being refreshed
and groomed, he would again be ready (always
For nearly Six
years “ Our Bruce ” never missed going with the

- first machine, at the end of which time he was.

iii consequence of his fine appearance and our
desire to give him a less active dutv in his old

1 age, transferred from the fire—engine to the

police-patrol duty. We did not altogether lose

l our faithful animal's services, for one of his du-
and to sprinkle a few crumbs for them on the '

birds looked for their daily rations of crumbs, ,

and would ether in the treetops in the morn—
ing and let him know with their begging voices
that they were waiting for him. He called
them to breakfast with a whistle, and they
would come out of the thick green leaves of the

ove and patter, twitter and flutter over his
eet. Sometimes he would put a piece of bread
between hislips, when a bright-eved little thing

would pick it out, like a humming-bird taking 1
honey from a deep flower bell without ali hting. ,
. day, and at the end of the third day he drew

They became his constant companions. s soon
as he stepped from his door they were on the
look—out to give him a merry welcome with their
happ voices. They have come to know the
sound, of his step, his walks and recreations.
Often when leaning upon his hoe or rake one of
them will alight upon the head of it and turn up
a bright eye at his face. Even before he gave

up t e practice of shooting birds of another
feather one would sometimes hop u n the gilt
guard of the lock and peer aroun upon the

5 the scene of manya hard fight.

ties was to attend fires with the mounted police
sergeant (whose name is also Bruce) to kce back
the on-lookers, which he most effectually id for
nearly two years, during which time he was a
great favorite with the policemen . rarely leaving
the police-station without an apple, piece of
bread. or some mark of affection. On the 17th
ultimo, “Our Bruce " fell sick: the veterinary
surgeon was sent for, who pronounced him suf»
fering from inflammation of the bowels. The
usual remedies were applied, and everything was
done to relieve his pain and make him comfort-
able, but to no avail. For three days afterward
he was never left alone for a moment, night or

his last breath, surrounded by those who loved
him well. and who had been taken by him to
A post-mortem
examination was held the following morning to
ascertain the cause of his death. A stone six
inches in diameter, weighing five pounds and
eleven ounces, was taken from his bowels; this
was, no doubt, the principal cause of the disease
which led tothe death of the fire-horse, “Our
Bruce. ”—San Francisco Fireman.

   

 
  

 

 

 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 

 

 

      

 

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5], l UNDER THE MYSTIC MOONLIGHT.

nder the starlit sky,

v. '~ oonli ht, u
Under the my stic m 2 “cc we stood by th0

Surrounded by dreamy sile
0 )en ate. ' . _
Conversiiig ogf past friendship, of our paiting that
was nigh,
Wondering when we
W nderin r if our lives would again be ever gay;
\070wing That through absence our friendship should
remain' I V
Thinking of the future, on some far distant day , _
Fearing in that future we might never meet again.

Under the mystic moonlight, with hearts and eyes

0W - . ‘u '
Underagits dreamy shadows enshrined in a sily er

sheen _ _
We stood by the outer gate, and With vOices soft and

ow, _ )
Talked of the painful parting that soon must come
between,
* i 1k * * IF it
The soft light mantled round us, like a. pure and holy

ream; f f . ' ‘
And the shadows took strange shapes. as o airies
flitting near: I
But the momibeams in their brightness, threw a soft
and lucent stream
Of jog'ous silvery splendor on the face I held so
ear.

Standing thus and thinking of my love that still was
shrinkin , .
W'ith the dread of a betrayal that would sound its
own death—knell,
My heart sunk low in sadness, as I thought of all the
gladness, . I ‘
That a word would give niylife—one word that she
might tell.

For I feared my hopes were groundless. though I
knew my love was boundless _ I
As the ocean, when it surges on in Wild reSistless
wer!
And I could not speak the parting, for my heart was
keenly Sinai-ting
With the thought of being from her for an hour—
for an hour.

parted what would be our fate. -

: behind them, keeping upon the hig V
‘l as though bent on regannng the spot from

 

As the moonbeams softly bound her, weaving silver

chains around her. . .
I told her of the low that was calling for its own—

Of my heart‘s lone silent prayer, that was with her ,

everywhere,

That she might be ever happy, and but joy to her i

be known.

And I waited then in pain, in fearthat it was vain—
In fear that the light of all my life would be gone:

When a bright star twinkling o‘er us. pointed to one ‘

ath before us; ‘1
And 5 e softly spoke the answer: 'I am yours—
yours alone 1"
* =i< >l= * >1: il< *

Once more in the mystic moonlight, under a starlit 3

5K3” . . . ,
V.’ith the beams benignly smiling, we stood by the ,

outer gate, _
Conversing of our future. a future that was nigh.

A golden day before us. and no parting t'orour fate. i

 

 

Spur and Saddle;

LIFE ON A CATTLE RANCH.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

 

 

No. VL—CHASIXG THE Pnoxo-nonxs.

A WEEK or two passed quietly away after the 1
roded was brought to a successful Conclusion. T
during which Arthur and Ross DJncan faith— .

fully carried out their resolve of learning the
every day routine of life upon a stock-farm.
hese little details were interesting enough to
through. possessing as they did all the
ns of novelty, but the reader would find a
3.] record rather dull reading.

nough that the brothers familiarized them-
elves with the Mexican saddle and bridle, and,
persistence. gained their “riding
breeches.” That is, they could ride from morn
till dawn without especial fatigue, or flinching
whenever they sat upon the hard benches
around the supper table.

Cousin “'alt was an oracle to them, save on
one point. IVhen he spoke of catching the
swift-footed antelopes, or prong—horns, by means
of horses and hounds, they scouted at the idea.
They had read too much to swallow such a mar-
vel. The wind itself could not keep pace with
the “goats.”

“You will learn your mistake, some day.”
was the quiet reply. “You will see dogs pull
down a prong-horn, and, if you like, I will take
one alive with the lai‘iat.”

As a natural consequence, this wordy but ani- .

icable dispute, resulted in an expedition the
main object of which was to forever settle the
contestel question.

The day had not yet dawned, when the little
cavalcade of five persons rode away from the
ranch. Pedrillo, the buck/Ira), and a lithe.
wirv half-breed bore the cousins company.

Hard at their heels followed half a dozen dogs.

 

 

four of them being pure-blooded gray-hounds. ,
the others being Irish stag—hounds, of fair blood ,
and appearance, though the critical eye might j

detect a far-away cross of the fox hound, especi—
ally about the head.

They were well trained and under thorough ’

command. At frequent intervals :1 jack—rabbit
would be kicked out of its form by some one of

the dancing. prancing horses. and dart away ;
after its own peculiar fashion. making huge ‘

leaps. its legs as straight and unbeiiding as
though jointless, its nose thrust out and long
ears lying flat along its shoulders.

Then it .

would come to an abrupt halt, several hundred i

yards away. and its huge. black—tipped cars

would pop up above the grass in a listening at— ,

titude. The dOgs would whine appealingly and

look up into the face of their young master. but ‘
the asked-for word did not come. and their ‘
heads would droop as they trotted silently,

along.
The fates seemed adverse to the hopes of the

‘ with thrilling enthusiasm.

hunters during the first part of the day, for not 1

a prong-horn was sighted. though usually so

plenty. To and fro. quartering the prairie. pay- .

ing a visit to every hollow and "draw." the
young ranchero led the wav, resolved to “ find."
though he searched till dark.

Reaching a depreSsion in the soil, around
which upon every hand rose the prairie swells,
the party divided and each one rode toward a
chosen point, to View the land beyond. Pedril-

: chased.

greatly excited by the momentary glimpse of
the chase, so swift, yet so smooth and graceful.
“Come 011—”

“ Cool and easy, boy,” laughed Walt, though
he mounted as he spoke. .“ ou’ll see all you
want, right from here. Didn’t I tell you so? .

liven as he s oke, the antelopes ap cared in
view. over ha] a mile away, upon  e ridge,
and sped on, the gray-hounds barel fifty yards

est ground,

whence the started. .
The anter is a slave to one habit that is
frequently ta 'en advanta e 'of to its sorrow.
That is, like the hare an jack-rabbit, it _w1ll
frequentl double 1). 11 itself whenever it is
It will do t iis when upon a perfectly
level plain with a clear course before it.
hound that is well broken to the chase Will take
advantage of this, by taking a “ short cut,” and
antelopes are not unfrequently killed by dogs
far their inferior both in speed and bottom.
Another habit is no less disastrous, where the
ground is not a dead-level. _The prong-horn
will invariably kee to the highest ground, as
though they wishe to guard against runnmg
into a trap. Nor was this case an exception to
the general rule. Straight around the edge of
the vast basin sped the graceful creatures, but
swift though they were, they barely held their

vantage ground against the long, gaunt gray- :

hounds. v .

“ Down the hill!” cried ll alt. settm the ex-
ample. “ If we head them off here, t ey 11 cut
across to the next ridge.”

i

l

l
l

 

“ \Ve could carry them, but as we’re a dozen
miles from the ranch, I move we send back for 1
a wagon. while we go into camp over on the ;
creek. There‘s plenty of fish, and I’ve got s

hooks.” .

“ But Mr. Jones spoke for the dogs for to-mor- 1
row.”

“ They can go, too. “'e’ll not need them.
How is it!”

“Just as you say; I’d like to camp out, for
one.”

“ And I,” prompt] put in Ross. .

“That settles it, t en. The creek is less than
two miles from here. \Ve’ll clean the goats, and
carry them over there. Pedrillo and Marco can
take the dogs home, and fetch out a team early
in the morning.” _

So it was settled. “'alter, Pedrillo and the
half-breed quickly disemboweled the antelopes,
and stuffed the hollows full of green grass.
Then, tied two and two, by; the legs, the carcass-
es were hung u on the orses and the .party
struck over the ridge for the creek; the wmdmg
course of which was clearly indicated by the
dark fringe of timber and undergrowth along
its banks.

This reached, and a neat little glade selected
as the cam ing ground, the antelopes were hung _
upon low ranches out of the way. Then the :
blU‘kIH'O and Marco, with the bounds, took their {
departure, the former calling out, significantly: 1

 

“Remember, senor, what we heard about the ' nose: he’d jist ripped t

horse-thieves. Those three horses would be

worth running some risk for."

'1 in’ to trv to head ’cin bac

 

The king bull war on the lead, in course, and
ahind him tramped_six or eight other bulls, and
then come the cows and Iyoung ’uns. I war go-
, but afore I got read

to ride in I heard an orful bellar an’ roar whic

I knew meant big mad at somethin’. I couldn’t
see, but purty soon a whoppin’ great griz come
waddlin out’n the brush, an’ got up on his hunk-
ies quicker’ii a rat-squeak, an’ then he talked
right out in a growl that war double-bass to
that bull’s son . And then the old cuss pawed
the ground 1i e a Di ger fer jist one square
minit, wbile Old Griz s apped his fists around in
the air, as if to get his hands in flghtin’ order,
an’ opened his ugly jaws fer the white foam ov
his anger to run out. Thet war enough. The
buffler couldn't stand any more. He down head
—up tail—and in about ten jumps struck Old
E h ri ht in his equator an doubled him up
1i e a b anket on a stump in a Windstorm: but
not until he had give 0 d Shaghead a lick on
the snout that made the red fly; and if the For
felt sick in his stomach, the bull fur a full minit
stood as if he didn’t know which eend 0v him

1 war his head an’ which his tail; but, purty SOon

he ot his wits re ‘lated an’ on he come ag’in,
an’ ph war jist ’isted right of'f’n the ground
an’ sent flyin’ over the buffler. clean into the
air, an’ I see’d the entrails a-flyin’ arter him;
the bull hed took reven e fer that slap on his
ct b'ar open to the
shoulders.

“ I war so proud 0v that ex loit thet I hadn’t

“They will get more lead than horse-flesh, if the heart fer to give thet old in g bufller a shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The antelopcs paid no attention to the horse-
men, but flashed past the spot so recently occu~
pied and began their second circuit of the basin.
The entire chase was viewed by the brothers
Never before had
they seen a sight like it.

But \Valt was determined to bring the affair
to an end before the gray-hounds were quite
knocked up. and taking his lasso, he bade the
half-breed follow him with the stag-hounds still
in leash. Keeping well covered by the rank
grass, he crept up to the ridge. and there lay in

‘ wait for the oncoming chase.

10 was the successful one. and the boys saw him ,‘

bend low in the saddle and hastily retreat down
the hillside. That was enough. They knew
that the long-sought-for game was found, and
eagerly flocked together.

“ A dozen goats, senor." said the burlrrirn. his ,

dark eyes glownig.

“ You can send the dogs ‘v

over, and we can see the chase without any ‘

trouble."
\Valt sprung from his saddle and directed the
half-breed to put the stag-hounds'in leash. “'hen

this was done. he motioned the gray—hounds to i

follow, and with them at his heels, he glided up

the slope, sinking low as he approached the .

summit, until he was completely hidden in the
tall grass.
Presently his hand was visible, motioning the

others to advance, but ere they reached his po- ,

sition. he arose to his feet with a clear ringing
yell.

A moment later the party were brought to-
gether upon the ridge, gazing eagerly at the
chase, which swept along the side of the slo e.

That was not long. though the prong—horns
ran slower and with less elasticity than at first.
Unsuspectino' the ambush. they drew within
range of the asso. \Vith a shout as warning to
the half-breed to let slip his bounds. the young
ranchero sprung up and made his cast.

His aim was true, and he jerked the leader to
the ground. The others cr0wded together in be-
wildered surprise. The next instant the 'were
assailed from front and rear. and each Iiound
claimed its victim. dragging it to the ground
with as much apparent ease as a cat masters a
mouse.

The four survivors, losing all instinct in that
terrible moment. darted down the slope ahnost
directly for the little party of horsemen. whose
rifles and pistols rung out sharply and added to
the slaughter. But one of that fated herd cs-
caped with life. three falling to lead, one to the
lasso. and six beneath the jaws of the hounds.

“ Will you believe my story. now:" laughed
“'alt. when the party once more came together.
“ I admit that such a wholesale haul is :l rare
occurrence. but with good dogs you can take .‘lll

, antelope or two any day. by putting in fresh

“I wanted you to see the start.” said I alt, *
“but tne goats took the alarm, and so I had to ;
‘ thing. But how are we going to get all these
» home?”

send the dogs in.” .
“ They‘re gone—out of sight!" cried Arthur,

hounds when the first are tired out."
“ We'll admit anything and believe every—

THE RIVAL ). ONARCHS.

the dogs pay us a Visit," laughed the young
ranchero. " Come. boys, let's rig up a shanty.
The nights are too cold now to sleep without
some cover."

 

The Rival lllonarchs.

No, sir! I warn’t mean enough fer thet. The
other bulls jist kept out‘n the wiiv; they knew
better‘n to mix in thet fight, so st‘ood back an’
looked on to see the Boss manage the job. Ef
they'd mixed in he’d ’a’ made them sick mighty
quick.

“then it war over the whole herd went

. trampin’ by, an’ when the last on 'em had pass-

IF the grizzly bear is monarch of the moun- ‘

tain, the buffalo (American bison) is master of
the plain. Over all the vast regions, stretching
from the Saskatchewan on the north to the
panipas of Texas. there is no beast so lordly as
the bison, but in the vast mountain ranges that
iii) and battlement the plains, the bear is alone
'ing.

It is not often these two types of animal power
meet in their native wilds; but. as the “ foot-
hills” of the Rocky Mountains run out into the
plains, and the cross-ranges of the Black Hills.
and several other chains, cut the great buffalo
gromids, and thus compel the herds to wind up,
over, through and around the mountains and
their valleys. the powerful bull who pioneers the

ed, I come down fer to skin ther grizzly.
but, blame me ef the hoofs ov the herd hadn’t
jist tramped thet b’ar so out’n shape thet his
pelt warn’t wuth a cent. He war an old Sam-
son, I tell yer—not less’n six foot from tail to
snout. an’ must ’a’ weighed a clean six hundred
pgilisitids.,thet old Shaghead had tossed up like a
er.

 

 

Dining with Queen Victoria.
THE guests assemble in the drawing—room

, and there await Her Majesty’s entrance. There

is no regular announcement made, but they

, are generally notified of the approach of the
‘ sovereign lady, and all form themselves into a

, crescent to receive her.

way is sometimes compelled to confront the ‘

shaggy monster whose domain he has invaded.
Then a battle royal is sure to be fought. The
hull is terrible in his ire. The very sight of a
bear infiiriates him, and the bear, almost equal-
ly angered, refuses to fly or advance. but. with
savage ferocity, prepares to defend himself.
ready to die, as he surely will, rather than run.

A ninter. who had passed many years among
the “rind River range and along the headwva-
tcrs of the Yellowstone, and who had slain in-
numerable buffalo and many bear. stated that

he had witnessed two encounters between these .
naturai enemies—one of which he thus de-:

scribed:
" The herd of bufiler war niakin' fer the pass

She does not greet
each by offering her hand, but usually extends
her hand to the ladies present. She is alwavs
accompanied by her daughter. \Vhen the guest
of the day is not of royal blood the arrange-
ments as to precedence are generally privately
arranged.

The guest of the day. however, sits on Her Ma-
jesty’s right hand and the royal family on the
left. At the table there are always three ser-
vants to every six guests: one to place the plates
and the others to fetch the eatables.

Her Majesty eats at state dinner without ;

gloves. and when she finishes every one is ex-
pected to stop immediately. When the meal is
over the Queen leaves the room first and is fol-
lowed by the rest of the guests.

to git over into the valley of the North Fork. 3

 

 

 

 

   
 
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
    
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
 
   
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
 
  
  
  
    
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
    
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
     
 
  
  
  
  
    
  

OUR grandfather‘s ticker
Was too big for his vest,
So he wore it in his duster tail pocket;
And one day goin‘ to town
In that farm wagon of our‘n,
The ouncin‘ of the vehicle bruck it.
ll of a sudden his b' hand
Under his duster tail e ran,
As his eyes and his month he opened wide,
But it had stopped short,
Never to tick again,
And the old man cried.

 

0 Natural History.

“ Is this a pig!”

“ Yes, this is a pig.”

“ What is a ho ?’

“ A hog spits 1 over the floor of a street car;
he also wants the stam clerk at the post-omce
to wait on him first. at’s the way you can
tell a hog from apig.”

“ Does a pig root with his feet.”

“ No—he roots with his nose. A pig’s nose is
called a snout. A cheerful-minded pig will turn
over more ground in search of one small potato
than the average boy would dig up in hunting
for a gold watch.”

“ “'hat gait does the pig take?”

“ He likes an Open gate the best.”

“Is a pig as intelligent as a dog?”

“ More so about some things. A dog most
always jumps over a fence straining his mus-
cles and running the risk of breaking his back,
while a pig dives under it and runs no risk.
pig can tell a hill of potatoes from a hill of cu-
cumbers but a dog can‘t. You lead a dog, but
the ig will lead you.”

“ ‘an a pig see in the night?”

“ He can see by night as well as by day. In
driving one out of the garden he won’t appear
to see the hole he came in at, but he does see it
all the time.”

“ Why is it that two pigs eating at a trough
six feet long, will still crowd each other t”

“ We will answer that when you explain wh
it is that every one in the crowd around a fag
len horse wants to boss the job of getting the
animal up.”

“ Do pigs have eyebrows?”

“ Yes, until old enough to root; then they
wear ‘em of! against fence rails."

“ Are there pigs of lead 3”

“.Ye’s, but you can't find any one who ever led
a 1g.

B What food do pigs prefer?”

“ \Vell, quail on toast is their first choice, but
when they can't get it the ' will take up with
grass, frozen potatoes. nio dy-corii. or apple—
cores. He never goes hungry because the hired

‘ girl happens to grind up pepper with the cof—
fee ”

“ The cackling of geese. you said once, saved
Rome. Did the grunting of pigs ever save any—
thing?”

" Not that we know of, but a pig’s heels have
often saved his bacon."

“ Do pigs ever attack children!”

“ Once in a great while. If a pig had gone in-
to politics and got beaten. and other pigs were
shoving him around and calling him an idiot
and so forth, he might be tempted to bite a
small boy who was sticking kernels of corn on a
cast—iron cob to deceive him and break off his
teeth.”

“ Can pi climb?”

“ Yes. it four or five dogs get after one
small pig and he’ll climb for all he s worth. He
may not go up a tree. but it will be because he
hasn’t time to stop.”—Free Press.

 

Backwoods Courtmg‘ .
HOW PROPOSALS ARE MADE IN THE SOUTHWEST.

HE sat on the side of the room in a big white
oak rocking-chair. A lon -eared deer-hound
snapping at flies was by his side; a basket of
sewing by hers. Both rocked incessantly—that
is the young people—not the dog and basket.
He sighs heavily, and looks out of the west “1'11—
dow at a crape myrtle tree; she sighs lightly,
and gazes out of the east window—at a turnip
patch. At last he remarks:

“ This is mighty good weather to pick cotton.”

“ ’Tis that—if we only had any to pick.”

The rocking continues.

‘ ‘ “'hat‘s your dog‘s name?”

u Coon 3‘)

Another sigh-broken stillness.

“ “'hat is be good fur ?”

“ “That is who good fur?" said she, abstract-

edly.

‘ Your do , Coony.”

“ Fur ketc in’ ’possums.”

Silence of half an hour.

“ He looks like a deer dog.”

“ \Vho looks like a deer dog?"

“ ‘oon '."

“ He is—but he’s kinder bellowed, and gettin‘
old an’ slow now. An‘ he ain‘t no ’count on a
cold trail.”

In the uiet ten minutes that ensued she took
two stitc es in her quilt; it was a gorgeous af-
fair; that quilt was made by the pattern called
“ Rose of Sharon." She is very particular
about the nomenclature of her quilts, and fre-
quently walks fifteen miles to get a new pattern
with a “ real party name.”

“ Your ma raisin’ many chickens?”

“Forty odd.”

Then more rocking, and somehow, after a
while the big rocking-chair and the little rock-
in -chair were jammed side by side.

don‘t know how it ha ned. It may have
been caused by some pec arity in the floor. or
by the natural magnetic attraction one chair
bad for the other; but strange to say the basket

' of work had followed the little chair, and the

little chair had traveled as fast as the big one.
Coony had not moved. He lay in the same
place sonnd asleep, and he was talking in his
sleep, that is, 'ving faint, irregular barks at the
possums he be eld in his dreams.

After a while the conversation was resumed.

“How many has your ma got .!”

“ How many what?”

“ Chickens.”

“ Nigh onto ahundred.”

Then a long silence reigns. At last he ob~
serves:

“Makin’ uilts?”

“Yes,” 5% “I've

9 replies, brightening up.
just finished a ‘ oarin’ Eagul of Brazeel,’ a
‘ Sittin’ Sim ’ and a ‘ Nation’s Pride.’ Have you
eveiiqsaw the ‘ Yellow Rose on the Parary?’ ”

Sb 0.

More silence, then he says:

“ Do you like cabbage t”

“I do that.”

Presently his hand is accidentally placed on
hers. She does not know it: at least does not
seem to be aware of it. Then, after a half-hour
spent in sighing, coughing and clearing of
throats. he suddenly says:

“ I’ve a great mind to bite you.”

“ “'hat you great a-mind to bite me fur?”

“ Kase you won’t have me.”

“ Kase you ain’t axed me.”

“ Well, now I ax you.”

“ Then, now I has you.”

Then the next day, the young man oes to Ti-
gerville after a marriage license. ednesday
the following week. No cards.

     

 

 

          

 

$3