So completely were the people carried away with this bad current, that they preferred to get as far away from Jerusalem as possible, and went even to Dan to engage in their idolatrous practices.

At both these places where he had set up the calves, he built houses for them. Originally and commonly houses of worship were built upon high places, so that this expression "high places" came to be a description of the house itself.

It is not a fortunate translation to state that Jeroboam made priests of the lowest class of the people. It would have been poor policy, and would have brought his movement into disrepute.

The literal rendering of the Hebrew is "from the ends of the people," and means, as in the Revised Version, "from all the people."

Jeroboam would have been glad to have the priestly tribe, Levi, furnish him his priests, but they were loyal to God and the true worship and would not assist the king in his schism, so he had to get priests where he could from all the people and from any tribe.

In 2 Chron. 11: 13 it is said that the Levites in a body went over to Rehoboam. This greatly strengthened the king of Judah and tended to keep the religion of that part of the people pure.

NEW FEASTS APPOINTED.

"And Jeroboam ordained a feast in the eighth month, on the fifteenth day of the month, like unto the feast that is In Judah, and he offered upon the altar. So did he in Bethel, sacrificing unto the calves that he had made: and he placed in Bethel the priests of the high places which he had made.

"So he offered upon the altar which he had made in Bethel the fifteenth day of the eighth month, even in the month which he had devised of his own heart; and ordained a feast unto the children of Israel: and he offered upon the altar, and burnt incense."

Jeroboam was the more anxious to get his religious enterprises established because the time for the feast of the tabernacles was coming on and many of his people would be going up to Jerusalem.

He therefore, as a part of his scheme, very shrewdly appointed a counter feast, putting it on the same day of the month, the fifteenth, because that was the time of the full moon, but he changed the month.

The right time was the seventh month, corresponding with our October and November, and it was the most joyous of all the festivals celebrating the gathering of the harvest.

He could plead a good reason for putting his feast a month later, because the harvest was slower ripening in the northern part of the kingdom than in the southern, and the change of time would be an accommodation. The law fixing the seventh month is given (Lev. 23: 34, 39, 41).

At this feast Jeroboam himself approached the altar and served as a priest. He did this doubtless for two reasons—1, To give the royal sanction to the new religion; and 2, To show that he considered himself the religious as well as the civil head of the nation.

LESSONS.

1. Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. Jeroboam forgot this rule and put the improvement and fortifying of his kingdom first—his secular affairs—and as a result made a fatal mistake.

2. How long and far a sin reaches! Solomon's idolatry bears fruit in the breaking up of the nation and the lapse of half of it into heathenism. What a disappointment to God, who had done and borne so much for this people!

3. Jeroboam needed to have no fear about the perpetuity of his kingdom. He had an express promise from God. (1 Kings 11: 38.) But his faith in God's word failed, and hence he sinned. Thus sin is always the fruit of unbelief.

4. Jeroboam also put policy before principle; for the sake of temporary success he turned aside from the strictly right course. This is always wrong, and because wrong is unsafe. Fasten the lesson deep in your heart; never for the sake of any apparent advantage depart in the least from the truth as conscience and God's Word shall make it known to you.

5. It is said in the lesson that Jeroboam devised of his own heart these religious departures which he forced upon the people. Here was another feature of his sin—that he presumed to depart from the explicit directions that God had laid down as to the times, places and manner of His worship, and gave the people instead inventions of his own. To say the least, he had no business to do this, and he exposed himself to the curse that comes upon those who take from or add to God's Word.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

"On mission ground there was once a prayer meeting held in an idol temple. A lamp was placed in the hands or lap of each idol around the room, so that the idols themselves held the light by which the true God was worshiped. So the sins of Jeroboam may light us to heaven." —Peloubet.

"Judge a religion by its god. Judge a people by the kind of god that will satisfy them. If a calf will do, what must be their intelligence? If nature will do, what must be their emotion? If science will do, what must be their moral sense? The Christian religion pays the highest tribute to human intelligence. It calls men to a God, infinite in every perfection." —Joseph Parker.

"It has been remarked that the two tribes in whose inheritance the calves stood are not found among the number of the sealed in Revelations. The names of Ephraim and Dan are missing from that list." —Waller.

* * * * *

"Oh, God, our strength! to Thee our song, With grateful hearts we raise; To Thee, and Thee alone, belong All worship, love and praise.

"And Thou, Oh, ever gracious Lord! Wilt keep Thy promise still, If, meekly hearkening to Thy word, We seek to do Thy will.

"Led by the light Thy grace imparts, Ne'er may we bow the knee To idols, which our wayward hearts Set up instead of Thee." —Harriet Auber.



SIDNEY'S GOOD INTENTIONS.

(A New Year's Story.)

by FLORENCE HALLOWELL.



"Sidney, did you leave that note at Mrs. Flynn's yesterday?" asked Mrs. Dent, as her eldest son came hurriedly into the sitting-room to get the pocket-knife which he had left on the table. "She hasn't come, and I don't know what I am going to do about the washing. Nora's arm is still so lame that she must not attempt to use it."

"Oh, mother, I am so sorry!" and Sidney looked mortified and contrite. "I fully intended to leave the note, but—"

"You forgot all about it," finished his sister Fannie, who was sewing at one of the front windows. "Of course! Mother ought to have known she couldn't trust you. Your intentions are always good, but that is as far as you go."

"It is a great deal easier to intend to do a thing than to do it—everybody knows that," said Clara, a girl of twelve, who had put down her book as her brother came in. "I suppose as long as we live we'll have to hear Sidney say, 'I fully intended.' I don't expect anything else."

And she laughed.

"I can't help being forgetful," said Sidney.

"Perhaps not," said his mother; "but you could go a long way toward carrying out your good intentions if you would only do promptly whatever is given you to do."

"I will go to Mrs. Flynn's now," said Sidney. "She can get here by ten o'clock, anyway."

"Very well," said his mother. "The sooner you see her, the better it will be for the washing. This winter sun will not last long."

Sidney went out, and, hurrying on his overcoat and cap, was soon on the way to the cottage of Mrs. Flynn.

He felt a little depressed, for the remarks of his sisters had hurt his feelings a good deal.

He wondered, as he walked briskly along, if Fannie and Clara never forgot anything.

Next to Mrs. Flynn's was a small, brown cottage a good deal in want of repairs. It had needed a coat of paint for many a year, and some of the blinds were broken. But at the window was a very pretty little girl, with golden curls, and Sidney paused a minute to nod and smile at her. He knew her quite well, for she was sister to one of the junior clerks in his father's warehouse.

The child smiled in return, and looked into the rear of the room, saying something Sidney could not hear. But a moment later the head of a pale, sad-faced woman appeared above that of the little girl.

She bowed to Sidney and then moved quickly away.

"How ill Mrs. Stewart looks!" thought kind-hearted Sidney. "I imagine Christmas did not bring many good things to this house. I remember now that I fully intended to send little Mabel a doll; but—"

And then he stopped and blushed hotly. Another good intention never carried out.

Fortunately, he found Mrs. Flynn in, and she promised to go to his mother at once. So he walked away, feeling that he had done his best to repair the neglect of the previous day.

His next stopping-place was his father's office, which was a room built on to the warehouse, and communicating with it by a single door.

There was another door which opened on to a side alley, and was kept always locked. It was the door used exclusively by his father for entrance and exit. But Sidney was a privileged person, and had been allowed a pass-key. So he entered the office now without having to go through the busy warehouse.

He was disappointed to find the room empty. His father had promised to give him some money to buy powder, shot and caps for the new gun he had received on Christmas Day, and, like all boys, he felt that time was very precious when he was going to buy anything of that sort.

"Now I suppose I've got to wait," he soliloquized, as he threw himself into the swivel-chair in front of his father's desk. "It'll be noon before I get a chance to try the gun, I dare say."

He played with a paper-cutter at first; but soon his attention was attracted by a letter on the desk, the superscription of which was in a familiar hand.

He picked it up at once, for his Aunt Susan Dent's letters were always public property at home. His father never failed to bring them home and read them aloud at the supper-table. So Sidney drew this letter from the envelope without hesitation.

He had always received a five-dollar bill every Christmas from his aunt, but this year the day had come and gone without the customary present, and he gave an exclamation of joy when, on unfolding the letter, a five-dollar bill fell out.

"For me, of course. Better late than never," muttered Sidney, as he hastily glanced over the letter.

Yes, his aunt intended the money for him.

She wrote that she had been too ill to write just before Christmas, but that Sidney would probably rather have the gift come late than not at all.

"Well, I should say so!" ejaculated Sidney. "And now I needn't wait for father. I can use this money to buy my ammunition, and tell him about it at dinner time."

He restored the letter to its envelope, and then let himself out at the alley door. In five minutes he was in the nearest hardware store, bargaining for his shot.

His mind was full of the sport he expected to have that afternoon in the woods with his gun, and when he reached home he sprang up the steps two at a time.

He was about to ring, with no gentle hand, when the door was thrown open by his sister Fannie.

"We've been watching for you, Sidney," she said, in some excitement. "Uncle Charles is here, and wants you to go home with him for two or three days. He says he can promise you a splendid time. You'll have to hurry, though, for the train leaves at twelve o'clock, and it is half-past eleven now. We were so afraid you wouldn't get back in time."

"Hurry, Sidney," said his mother, appearing at the parlor door. "Change your clothes as quickly as possible. I have packed your valise for you."

"No time to waste, my boy," said his uncle, from the dining-room, where he was snatching a hasty lunch, attended by Clara. "The train won't wait for us."

Sidney was soon ready, and, with a hasty good-by to his mother and sisters, hurried off with his uncle.

"And be sure you come back Friday night, Sidney," called out his sister Fannie, as she followed him to the front gate. "Don't 'fully intend' to do it, and then come walking in here on Sunday. You know you've got to make calls on New Year's Day."

"All right," answered Sidney. "I'll be here. You needn't worry."

It was not until he was in the train and half way to his destination that he thought of the five-dollar bill. He was provoked with himself that he had not spoken of it to his mother.

"But I'll write as soon as I get to Meadville," he thought; "and they'll get the letter to-morrow."

But there was a great deal to occupy him when he reached his uncle's home.

His cousins were fond of fun and were always ready for anything, and he was so hurried from one place to another and had so many calls on his time, that it was little wonder that the writing of that letter was postponed. He fully intended to write it, but it wasn't written.

Only the recollection of Fannie's parting words made him resist an invitation to a sleighing party and start for home on Friday. He knew how the girls would talk if he were not there to make those calls on New Year's Day.

He occupied himself while on the train with thinking on whom he would call and what he would talk about. His visit to Meadville would give him one subject, at least, for conversation.

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night when he reached home, but he found his father and mother and two sisters still up. They were finishing some preparations for the celebration of the next day.

"So you have actually come!" cried Fannie, as Sidney entered the room and went to the fire to warm his half-frozen hands and feet. "One good intention kept, at least. I'll score that to your credit, Sidney."

"It seems as if I had been gone a good deal longer than four days," said Sidney. "I've been in a perfect whirl of excitement ever since I left here."

"We've had some excitement, too," said Clara. "Father's discharged Harry Stuart."

"Yes, just think, Sidney, he stole five dollars," said Fannie.

"We merely suspected him of stealing it, my daughter," said Mr. Dent. "I did not accuse him of it; but I fear there is no room to doubt that he is guilty. He was the only one in the office while I was out."

"It is very hard to believe Harry Stuart a thief," said Mrs. Dent. "He had as open and frank a face as I ever saw, and every one says he is devoted to his mother; but then of course he was greatly tempted, needing the money as he did."

"Do you mean the five-dollar bill Aunt Susan sent to me, father?" asked Sidney.

He had grown very pale and his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Yes; how did you hear of it? The letter came the very day you left."

"Oh, father, I read the letter, and—and it was I who took the money! I fully intended to tell you, but—"

And there Sidney broke down utterly and could not go on.

"You took it!" repeated his father. "Oh, what trouble and sorrow you have brought upon an innocent person, Sidney, by not letting me know that sooner!"

"I intended to write from Meadville," faltered Sidney.

"But, as usual, you did not carry out your good intentions. Sidney, for the first time in my life I am ashamed of you—heartily ashamed."

By degrees they drew the whole story from Sidney; and, though they blamed him, they could not but feel sorry for him, so acute was his remorse.

"I hope this affair will be a lesson to you as long as you live," said Mr. Dent, as he dismissed the remorseful boy to his room.

Had it not been so late, Sidney would have gone that night to see Harry Stuart, but as it was, he was up the next morning by six o'clock, and in the cold, gray light of the first day of the New Year hurried to the little brown cottage.

He found Mrs. Stuart sitting by the bedside of her son, who, never strong, had been utterly prostrated by the trouble which had come upon him, and for two days he had been delirious with fever.

He did not recognize Sidney, and the latter could hardly repress his tears as he took the young man's hot hand in his own and looked down at his flushed face and unnaturally bright eyes, and heard him mutter incoherently his denial of the theft of which he had been suspected.

That was the only call Sidney made that day. All else was forgotten as he sat by Harry Stuart's bedside hour after hour, trying to atone for the pain and grief his carelessness had caused.

Harry got well at last and was restored to his former place with an increase in salary, and he and Sidney were firm friends for the rest of their lives; but Sidney never forgot the lesson he had learned and the good resolutions he had made that New Year's Day in the little brown cottage.

No one ever again heard him say, "I fully intended." To intend was to do with him at last.



NEW YEAR'S EVE.

Ye bells! peal forth From south to north, No longer let your iron tongues be dumb: Up to the rafters swing, Make all the country ring An omen of a Happy Year to come,



[This Story began in No. 2.]

ANDY FLETCHER,

the Story of a Boy with a Purpose.

by JOHN RUSSELL CORYELL,

Author of "Cast Adrift; or, Ned Carroll's Promise," etc.

CHAPTER IX.

Police Headquarters.

"Who are you? What are you talking about?" demanded one of the detectives of Andy, after the latter had stepped forward with his exclamation that it was not the little boy.

A curiously malevolent expression crossed the face of the man with the child as he bent his eyes on Andy; but he did not speak to him then, but rather to the crowd that had quickly gathered,

"What does all this mean? Why am I stopped in this way? Is there a policeman here? Call a policeman, somebody, please. Upon my word—a pretty pass this, that a man may be molested in a public place in such a fashion!"

Mr. Roberts was well dressed and his manner was composed and even dignified, so that the sympathy of the spectators was with him at once, until one of the detectives threw back his coat and showed his badge, when there was a murmur of wonder, and one of them asked:

"What's he done?"

Just at this point the policeman came hurrying up.

The detective in charge saw him and showed him his badge, and then said to him:

"Collar the kid," pointing to Andy, "and fetch him along to the office up here. Are you a passenger on the steamer?" he asked of his prisoner.

"No; but I warn you that you will find yourself in trouble if you do not release me at once. I can easily see that there is a conspiracy among you to give me trouble. That boy there, whose father is a convict, as I happen to know, is at the bottom of it, I suppose. As for this child here, he is the son of a friend, and I have brought him here to see the departure of the steamer. If, after this explanation, you still persist in detaining me, it shall be at your peril."

"If I've made a mistake, I'm sorry," said the detective; "but I'm doing no more than my duty in holding you. I never saw that boy before. I don't know what he knows of the matter."

"You're looking for Regy Thorne, aren't you?" said Andy, who had confined himself to listening and thinking until now.

"What if we are?" replied the non-committal detective.

"So am I, that's all," answered Andy, giving his enemy a bold glance of defiance in return for the black looks cast upon him.

They had reached the wharf office by this time, and were readily admitted by the wharfinger and given a place at the back end.

"Oho!" said the detective, "so you are after him, too, are you? How do you come to know anything about it?"

"I live in Lakeville, and I left there last night on purpose to come here and look for Regy. I was after the reward."

"Do you know this gentleman?"

And he pointed to the man Andy had such good cause to know.

"He knows me," struck in Mr. Roberts, with a sneer, "and bears me no good will for having exposed him in the village where he lives. I protest against being held on his evidence. If I am to undergo this humiliation, send for a carriage immediately and have me taken to headquarters, so that I may send for this child's parents and for some of my friends. The charge against me I do not understand yet, excepting that it has something absurd to do with this little boy."

If Andy had been allowed to speak at once in answer to the question of the detective, he would have betrayed a great deal of the knowledge he had of the man, and would have given out a sudden light that had come to him as he stood there looking at him and listening. But with consideration came wisdom, or, at the least, caution, and he replied, briefly:

"I saw him in Lakeville yesterday. He did what he could to injure me, but I did not know that he had anything to do with this matter."

"You know the boy we are looking for?" asked the detective.

"Yes, sir."

"And you are sure this is not the one?"

Andy looked carefully at the child, who had stood in a sort of wonder at the attention he was receiving.

"I am sure," said Andy, finally, "that this is not Regy Thorne; but he is dressed exactly as Regy was yesterday, or the day before. I did not see him yesterday."

"Dressed the same!" said the detective, exchanging meaning glances with his fellow-officer. "How do you explain that?" he inquired of Andy's enemy.

"I don't explain it," was the cool answer. "I suppose, however, that a great many children dress alike in these days when clothing is bought ready-made."

The detective looked at him shrewdly and turned to his companion.

"Get a carriage, Dan—that is, if this gentleman is prepared to pay for it."

"Certainly," was the reply. "And may I ask what the charge against me is?"

"I should suppose you might have guessed it by this time," answered the detective, with so much less respect in his manner that it was quite evident that he did not believe his prisoner as innocent as he would have it appear. "The charge against you isn't made yet, but I arrested you on suspicion of being implicated in the kidnapping of a little boy named Reginald Thorpe Thorne, and I shall take you to headquarters on that suspicion."

Andy was sure he saw a slight change in the man's features at the tone in which the words were uttered, and it was plain to him that the coincidence of the little boy in his company being dressed exactly as Regy had been dressed, had made an impression on the detective.

The latter turned to him.

"You will have to go with us too. What is your name?"

"Andrew Fletcher."

"You will find his father's name on the register at Sing Sing," said the man who had, as Andy believed, done so much to put it there.

Andy flashed an indignant glance at him, but paid no other attention to him.

"Must I go with you?" he asked of the detective.

"Yes."

"Will you leave somebody here to watch the steamer, just the same?" questioned Andy, anxiously.

"Don't worry about that, my lad. The steamer shall be watched."

"Will I be kept long?"

"I can't tell. Depends on what the inspector says."

It seemed to Andy that all his chances of earning the reward were gone; but there was just a glimmering of hope left, and he was determined not to part with a certain secret he had until he was certain that Regy was found.

The secret was a small thing, and yet it might be the key to success. It was this: Andy had made no effort to connect the two speakers he had overheard while he was working in the onions with any one he knew, until as he stood there in the wharf office confronted with the man who had tried so hard to injure him, and who seemed in some singular way connected with the kidnapping of Regy Thorne.

Then it came to him like a flash, that his was the voice he had heard saying to the other man the words about being at the Arizona at five in the morning.

It was certain to him then that Henry Roberts was connected with the kidnapping, and while it was impossible for him to comprehend the meaning of the episode in which he was an enforced actor, he had settled it in his mind, that if Regy was to be found, it would be through this man.

He should have told all this—his knowledge and his suspicions—to the police when he was taken to the inspector's office and examined; but he did not realize the importance of doing so, and his eagerness to gain the money for his father's sake was so great that he merely answered the questions put to him.

As for the man, whom he had come to look upon as his enemy, and who, indeed, seemed to have transferred to the son the hatred and ill-will he had once borne the father, it was found impossible to fix any sort of complicity on him.

The child was easily proven to be the son of respectable parents, who had been promised long ago by Mr. Roberts that he should go some morning to see an ocean steamer off. The clothes had been purchased some time before at a clothing store.

So Mr. Roberts was dismissed; but no apology was made to him, and he demanded none. Of course, no one thought of apologizing to Andy for a detention of four hours at police headquarters, for Mr. Roberts had not failed to inform the inspector that Andy's father was in Sing Sing, and it is natural for police to judge a child by his parents.

So Andy was dismissed, with a warning not to mix himself up in matters that did not concern him. And Andy went out of the gloomy building, feeling that there was not much justice to be had from the law.

There was his father, innocent and in prison; and here was he, dismissed, as if he was not much better than a criminal himself. And to be told not to mix himself up in the matter! As for that, he would not give up his search for Regy because they told him to.

CHAPTER X.

A Mysterious Letter.

Andy walked out into the street, feeling very ill-used and indignant, and was for hurrying away as quickly as possible, forgetting for the moment that he had determined on a certain course to pursue.

"I thought fer sure yer was in fer a trip to the island," said a voice behind him.

Andy turned and there was Pete following after him.

"Oh, is that you, Pete? I had forgotten all about you. Where did you come from?"

"Yer didn't think I'd give yer the go-by now, did yer?" asked Pete, in an injured tone. "I was waitin' fer yer all the time. I don't go back on a pardner like that. Why, if they'd shipped yer up to the island, I'd a' been there to say good-by to yer, an' don't yer ferget it. Yer give me a breakfast this morning, didn't yer? Yer licked them fellers, didn't yer? Well, Pete, if he's got only one name, don't go back on yer. See? An' that settles it."

It was not an elegant speech, and Pete was an uncommonly disreputable-looking lad, with his grimy face and hands and his tattered garments, but there was a ring of gratitude and earnestness in his tone that went straight to Andy's heart, and he held out his hand with:

"You're the right sort, Pete."

"Anyhow, I don't go back on a pardner," said Pete, shaking the proffered hand awkwardly.

Andy was in need of sympathy at just that moment, and he was really very glad of the friendship of the little waif, who was so old in experience if so young in years.



He would not have selected Pete for a friend and confidant; but there he was, at hand, with his sympathy ready, and Andy was moved to take him into his confidence.

"I say, Pete," he began, and stopped.

"Say it," said Pete.

But at that moment Andy had caught sight of his man with the child, and he exclaimed: "Do you see that man, Pete?"

"The feller that was on the wharf? I see him."

"I want to follow him."

"Nobody's hinderin' yer."

"But he knows me, and if he sees me following him, he will know what I am after. Don't you see?"

"I'm fly. Yer want me ter do the trick. Good! Yer know me? I'm Lynx-eyed Bill, the terror of the force. Git onter my lynx eye."

Whether he had a lynx eye or not, he certainly was a very shrewd little scamp, for he left Andy's side and hurried nearer to the man and child; and so, followed by Andy at a considerable distance, he kept after them.

The mother of the child and some sympathizing friends were with them, and there was no difficulty in keeping them in sight as long as they remained together.

Mr. Roberts went with them, however, only to the cars, where he left them, evidently with many apologies for the trouble he had been the cause of putting them all to, for Pete, and even Andy, from his distance, could see him bowing many times over.

As soon as the car took them away, he looked all around with seeming carelessness, though it was plain to the boys that he was scrutinizing everybody anxiously.

Andy jumped out of sight at once, and when he peered around his corner again the advantage of having Pete help him was evident.

Mr. Roberts had disappeared, but Pete was visible just as he was hurrying around a corner, and so Andy was enabled to follow again.

If he had been asked just what he expected to gain by following the man he could not have told. It was merely that it had entered his head that if Mr. Roberts was concerned, as he believed, in the kidnapping of Regy, and if Regy had not yet been taken out of the country, then Mr. Roberts would be likely to do something or go somewhere that would betray Regy's hiding place to him.

Mr. Roberts walked over to Broadway and down it a few blocks to a liquor saloon, which he entered. Pete was turning it over in his sharp brains how he could contrive to follow him in there without attracting his attention, when he suddenly came out again and walked briskly up Broadway.

Pete reasoned that he had not been in there long enough to get a drink, and he was just reproaching himself for not having followed him into the saloon, when Mr. Roberts drew a letter out of the side pocket of his sack coat, and with a preliminary glance around, read it, and then thrust it back into his pocket and showed relief in every movement.

He was no longer in a hurry, but sauntered along in leisurely fashion, and was no further concerned, apparently, as to whether or not he was followed.

Pete turned this over in his mind and came to a conclusion. The letter was the thing that had had the sudden soothing effect on the man; then the letter was probably about the child Andy was hunting for. If so, it was only necessary to get the letter and give it to Andy and the matter would be ended.

Andy would have despaired of getting the letter, if he had been near enough to observe all that had taken place, and so would most other persons; but Pete had had a training which, fortunately, most persons have not had, and it was a comparatively small matter to him to obtain the letter.

He turned his sleeve up, so that his hand and wrist were clear and free, and then quickened his pace and drew nearer to where Mr. Roberts was sauntering along. He kept close behind him for a block or more, walking as if he had not a thing on his mind.

Presently there was one of those sudden gatherings of people on the sidewalk, such as are of common occurrence in every large city.

Then Pete pressed close to the side of Mr. Roberts, taking care to be on the side where the pocket containing the letter was. Mr. Roberts did not know it—you would not have seen it had you been there—but the grimy hand of Pete went in and out of that side pocket like a flash of lightning, and it held the letter when it came out.

What would Andy say to that way of obtaining the letter? That was the very question Pete put to himself after the missive was safe in his pocket.

He had had an example of Andy's notions of honesty, and it spoke volumes for Andy's influence on him that he did not propose to let his "pardner" know how he had obtained the letter.

"I'll bet a quarter," said Pete to himself, as he fell back to where he knew Andy would be, "that he'd be jest fool ernough ter give the chump the letter back ag'in."

When he was where he could beckon Andy he did so, and the latter hastened up to him.

"Here's a letter," explained Pete. "He dropped it. Mebbe it has somethin' in ter tell yer what yer want ter know."

"Dropped it?" said Andy, taking the letter doubtfully, but not suspecting the way in which it had been obtained.

"Ya-as, an' I picked it up," replied Pete, unblushingly. "Go on an' read it, why don't yer?"

It seemed to Andy that it would be no more than fair to read it under the circumstances, and he opened it and did so. It was without signature, and read as follows:

"Gone with Uncle Mike! Watch the Mirror."

Andy's disappointment at the contents of the letter was plainly shown on his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Pete, curiously.

"I can't understand it," answered Andy.

"Can't yer read writin'?" was Pete's surprised inquiry.

"Of course I can," replied Andy; "but I can't make anything out of this."

"What does it say?" asked Pete.

They were walking along as they talked, and Pete constantly kept his eye on Mr. Roberts.

Andy read the letter to him.

"Lay low!" exclaimed Pete, suddenly, pulling Andy around a corner. "He's missed the letter. He'll be back ter hunt fer it."

"I'll stay here," said Andy. "You keep your eye on him."

Pete went out to Broadway again, and Andy saw him disappear hastily around the corner.

He knew by that that his man could not be approaching, so he peered around the corner and saw Pete on the edge of the sidewalk looking every way. Mr. Roberts was nowhere in sight.

Pete hunted and Andy hunted, but neither could obtain a glimpse of him, and Andy was in the depths of despair.

"It's no use," said Andy, at last; "he's gone, and my chance has gone with him."

Pete looked sympathetic and downcast.

"I s'pose it's my fault," he said, dismally.

"No, it's my fault," said Andy. "I should have kept my eye on him all the time."

"Yer've got the letter," reminded Pete, by way of consolation.

"What's the use of the letter when I can't understand it?" replied Andy.

"What don't yer understand?" asked Pete.

"Any of it 'What does 'Gone with Uncle Mike' mean? What does 'Watch the Mirror' mean?"

"Huh!" said Pete. "I can tell yer that much."

"You can."

"Yer bet I can. Come on, an' I'll show yer."

Andy looked suspicious and doubtful. How could Pete be so knowing as that? If he could not understand the letter, how could Pete?

Pete, however, led him without a word, but with a wonderfully knowing air, along several blocks, and finally stopped at a news stand and looked it over.

"That the last Mirror, boss?" he asked, of the man in charge.

"Yep."

"Give it ter me?"

And Pete handed over his quarter, received his change and a paper and then led Andy up a side street and gave the paper to him.

Andy saw that its name was the Mirror, and that it was devoted to theatrical news. That was enough to give him confidence in Pete's intelligence, but he was in the dark yet.

"I see so much," he said; "but I don't understand about Uncle Mike."

"Andy," said Pete, with a compassionate air, "yer a dandy with yer dukes, an' yer square as a brick; but yer ain't cut yer eye-teeth yet. Gimme the paper an' let me show yer."

Andy gave him the paper and the knowing Pete took it and turned to the back pages.

"There!" said he, pointing to a column beaded "Dates Ahead." "Look at that an' see if Uncle Mike ain't mentioned."

Andy, with a glimmering of Pete's idea, looked along the column until he came to "U," and there he saw, at the head of the list, "Uncle Mike Co.; Philadelphia, July 8—week."

He read it aloud to Pete, and Pete nodded his head, as if to say, "Of course, I knew you'd find it."

"Does it mean that Uncle Mike is a theatrical company?" asked Andy, eagerly.

"That's what it means, sonny, an' it means that Uncle Mike is goin' ter play Philadelf fer the week wot begins on the eighth. So all yer've got ter do is ter add that up an' there yer air. What! ain't we on ter his nibs? Oh, no, I guess not!"

And Pete dashed his old hat down over his eyes and strutted around.

"You think my man is going on there to join the company?" asked Andy.

"Naw. The man with the kid is in Philadelf. That's the way I lay it out."

"That's it," cried Andy. "I see! He wanted to get away on the steamer, and Mr. Roberts was afraid there would be detectives on the watch; so he dressed the little boy up just like Regy to make the trial first. Then, when he found that the steamer would be watched, the man with Regy went to Philadelphia."

"That sounds like it," said Pete, approvingly.

"Yes," continued Andy; "but I don't understand what Uncle Mike has to do with it."

"No more do I," answered Pete. "But I tell yer what yer can do. Yer can go on an' find out."

"Go to Philadelphia?" exclaimed Andy.

"Why not?"

"It'll take too much money."

"Huh! won't take a cent."

"Why not?"

"How fur is it?"

"I don't know. About a hundred miles, I think."

"Well, yer can walk, can't yer? Terday's the fifth, ain't it? That gives yer till the eighth, an' a week more. It won't take us that long;"

"Us?"

"Yes. I'll go along ter take care o' yer."

Andy considered a moment.

"See here, Pete," he said, presently, "how do you come to know so much about what the letter meant?"

"Been there," answered Pete.

"Been where?"

"In the show business. Greatest knock-about juvee-nile all-around dance artist in the world! That's me. Too much knock-about fer me, an' I skipped. Tra-la-la!"

And Pete made a comical show of skipping away.

It seemed to account for Pete's extreme shrewdness, and Andy had no difficulty in believing him. He weighed the reasons for and against going to Philadelphia after Regy on the strength of the letter.

It was only a chance that Regy would be found there; but it was a chance, and he could not bear to throw it away. And why should he? There was only the thought of his mother to deter him, and he was certain that she would be easy about him if he wrote to her.

"Let's go, Pete. I'll write to mother and then we'll start."

"Have yer got a mother?" asked Pete, with a sort of eagerness.

"Yes," said Andy, "and a father, too. I'll tell you about them and what I'm after soon as I get a chance. Come on while I buy a sheet of paper."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]



[This Story began in No. 49.]

Mind Before Muscle;

or,

TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS.

by J.W. DAVIDSON,

Author of "Spud," "Hardy & Co.," "Rob Archer's Trials," "Limpy Joe," "Harry Irving's Pluck," etc., etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Some Plain Talk.

The evening after Tony's return with the money was a very joyful one for Job Loring. He was continually praising his second son, much to the disgust of the first, and really seemed to have recovered all of his habitual cheerfulness.

He never once mentioned Tony's prospects; his own were assured, that was enough for him.

As the evening wore away he gravitated toward Aaron. There was really much in common between the man, whose one idea of power was mere physical strength, and his rawboned son, so closely allied to him by disposition.

Job Loring was not a cruel man, nor yet did he mean to be an unjust one. In his rude way his family was dear to him. Of course, the larger the object, the more love could be bestowed upon it.

To Tony, with his fine, sensitive nature, inherited from his mother's side of the family, these grosser qualities were far from being attractive, and his companionship with Morrison had opened his eyes to a new creation.

So it was with a feeling of relief that he saw his father turn to his elder brother, and the cloud lifted from the sullen face of the latter.

Long before nine o'clock the next morning Tony was on his way to Ashville. He found Morrison in the store, and the latter exclaimed, as soon as his eyes fell upon the pale face of the little fellow:

"Why, Tony, what ails you? You look as though you hadn't a friend in the world."

Tony made an effort to look happy, but did not wholly succeed. He glanced into the office, near which they were standing, and saw a stout man talking with Mr. Smart.

"That's my father," said Morrison, as he noticed the direction of Tony's glance. "He arrived this morning. I'll introduce you when he comes out. He was quite interested in you. Here he is now."

As he said this, Morrison turned to the gentleman who had just emerged from the office.

"Father, this is the boy I was telling you of—Tony Loring. Tony, let me make you acquainted with my father, Mr. Morrison."

Tony nearly sank to the floor as he felt his hand grasped by that of the stout man, while a pair of dark eyes scanned him keenly.

"I had some curiosity to meet you," said Mr. Morrison, after his scrutiny, "as my son has a habit of picking up some rather peculiar friends. In this instance, I think he has shown much wisdom, considering his usual lack of judgment."

Both father and son laughed at this, and then the senior Morrison looked at his watch.

"It is about nine o'clock," he remarked. "Have you seen anything this morning of the stranger from Scaly Brook? I think you said he was to be on hand at that time."

"He is standing by the door now," replied Tony, a certain feeling of strength creeping over him, which he could not account for.

"In that case, I will go with you to Mr. Furbush's," said Mr. Morrison.

The Morrisons, father and son, and Tony left the store at once, and, accompanied by the red-bearded stranger, proceeded to Mr. Furbush's.

They found that gentleman at home. They were scarely seated when the senior Morrison said, somewhat abruptly:

"I called, in company with my son, to have a plain talk with you. Of course, as game-warden, you only did your duty in taking the captured deer. The Loring boy was not to blame; my son was the responsible party."

"You mean the guilty party," rejoined Mr. Furbush. "Any one who commits a crime is considered guilty."

Mr. Morrison smiled.

"There may be various degrees of guilt," he said, quietly; "but I do not see it in that light. To me, in order to place the guilt of an act upon a person, that person must do a wrong willfully or maliciously. In this case, my son did not know he was violating the law."

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse," answered Mr. Furbush. "I've been deputy sheriff and game-warden for a good many years, and about every law-breaker has an excuse."

Again Mr. Morrison smiled.

"All very true, no doubt," he replied; "and, in regard to the deer, there was no real harm done."

"Well, no," admitted Mr. Furbush. "The fine was paid, and I set the deer at liberty as soon as I received information from the county warden. But seems to me this talk has all been unnecessary."

"Very likely," assented Mr. Morrison; "but now we come to the real object of our visit. You have a son Isaac. This gentleman," pointing to the red-bearded man, "would like to see him."

"I'll call him," said Mr. Furbush.

Isaac was summoned, and came into the room with a frightened look on his round face.

"I was just going away," he said, glancing uneasily around the room.

"Going in to Duck Lake, I suppose?" queried the stranger.

Isaac grew very red in the face, but made no answer.

"Do you remember," continued the man, "that this boy here"— pointing toward Tony— "lost a lot of gum last fall, and you said I stole it?"

The red in Isaac's face gave place to a deathly pallor, but no reply passed his lips.

"I don't see what use all these questions are," interrupted Mr. Furbush, testily. "My son is not a prisoner on trial."

"Well, if he isn't," replied the man, significantly, "it won't hurt him to answer a few questions. Now, young man, speak up. Didn't you circulate the story that I stole that gum?"

Isaac began to cry.

"And you did this notwithstanding the fact that I pulled you out of Duck Lake, thereby saving your life," said the stranger, severely. "Now I want to jog your memory a little and get you in the habit of telling the truth. Shall I go on?" he added, turning to Mr. Furbush.

"Oh, I suppose so," replied that individual, wearily. "Make it as short as possible."

"I stopped a few nights with you and this little chap you call Tony last fall," continued the stranger. "One night this Tony had a fine lot of gum, and he put it away careful like. I forgot my pipe one morning, and went back to the camp for it. The door was open, and I seen you taking Tony's gum out of where he put it, and I dodged behind the camp and watched you and see you take it and put it in a holler tree—a far-side of the path to the spring."

He turned to young Morrison and continued:

"Yesterday morning, when I got up at the camp, I looked in the tree and found there was a lot of gum. So I shot at it, just to draw your attention to it. How much gum was concealed there?"

"About fifty pounds," replied Morrison.

"If you knew my son was doing as you claim he did, why did you not tell this other boy?" demanded Mr. Furbush.

"Because," answered the stranger, "I didn't go back to the camp again after I see this boy a-hiding it away in the tree, and the next time I see 'em was when I pulled 'em out of the lake."

"Is that all?" asked Mr. Furbush. "If it is, I'd like to ascertain the object of all these accusations and questions. What proof have we that my son did this or that you didn't do it? The boy has his property back, and why not let the matter drop? It looks to me like a trifling matter, anyway."

The face of Isaac brightened a little at this, but when his eye met that of the stranger, he trembled again.

"I'll tell you what the object of this is," he said. "This boy of yours made me out a thief; now I want to show it's him and not me. As for proof, I'll leave it to him, and forty-five dollars worth of gum ain't no trifling matter."

Then he turned sharply to Isaac.

"Didn't you take that gum yourself?" he asked. "Remember, this is going to court unless I'm cleared of it."

Isaac whimpered.

"If I own up to it will that save me?" he asked.

"Yes," assured Tony; "tell the truth."

"I took it," confessed Isaac. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry he's found out," muttered the stranger. Then he said in a louder tone, "I hope this'll be a warning. There's nothing so good for everyday wear as the truth. It'll wash and won't fade."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A Revelation.

The little conference at Mr. Furbush's was over, and Mr. Morrison, rising, said slowly:

"I was very sorry to feel it my duty to take part in this matter. Let us forget it, and all be friends. Good-day, Mr. Furbush."

He shook hands with that gentleman, and also with Isaac, both of whom responded with very poor grace.

Then they walked out into the open air. Mr. Morrison, turning to Tony as they reached the sidewalk, remarked:

"My boy, I was glad to see that you exhibited no desire for revenge."

As they walked back toward Mr. Smart's store, the senior Morrison talked earnestly with the stranger, while young Morrison said to Tony:

"Well, good-by, my friend. Father is determined to go back to Boston to-night, and wants me to go with him. I won't forget you."

Morrison gave him a warm pressure of the hand, and then Tony found himself alone. How unutterably lonesome the world seemed to the boy at that moment! and as he walked slowly home he reviewed the events of the last few months.

His winter's work had exceeded his most sanguine expectations, and yet he felt the burden of defeat upon him. When he reached home, his father questioned him closely in regard to what had transpired, all of which he explained minutely.

"The young rascal!" said Job Loring, clenching his hands and frowning. "He got off too easy. He'd orter had a lesson."

"I am satisfied," said Tony. "I think it will be a lesson to him."

Tony was treated with much more consideration than formerly, but somehow it brought him little comfort, and a week dragged slowly by.

Aaron had improved greatly, now that poverty had loosened its grip upon them, and was helping his father fix up around the house, when a stranger came walking up to the door one afternoon.

"Hullo, Job! How are you?" he cried, reaching out his hand.

Tony, who was reading, looked up to see his father shaking hands with the red-whiskered man whom he had such good reason to remember.

The stranger nodded to Tony.

"So you're Job Loring's son, are you?" he said. "I tell you what it is, Job, that chap isn't very big," pointing to Tony, "but he's a boy to be proud of."

After this, he talked in low, earnest tones to Mr. Loring and Aaron, and soon the three started together in the direction of Ashville.

Father and son did not return till nearly dark, and then they came with quick, hopeful tread.

"Amanda," said Mr. Loring, eagerly, "what do you think? I've got every cent o' my pay."

Mrs. Loring stopped her work in surprise.

"I'm glad for Tony's sake," she replied. "Now he can have his money. He's been moping around the house like a shadow."

Mr. Loring looked thoughtful.

"I have been harsh with him sometimes, I s'pose, and I've said lot's o' things ag'in the rich folks that I hadn't orter. There's one decent one, anyway."

"Who's that?" his wife wanted to know.

"Mr. Morrison."

Tony came into the room at this moment, and caught the sound of the name.

"What of him?" he asked.

Then Job Loring told his story:

"That chap who was here to-day worked with me'n Aaron, over on Scaly Brook last winter, and the land we trespassed on belonged to this Mr. Morrison. I didn't know it at the time. Morrison was away, but a lawyer in Ashville advised Smart to take the hull lot o' logs, 'cause they was forfeited. But there was one landin', or brow of logs, that could be proved as come off of our permit, every stick of it, though I didn't know it. This brow was in the way of the others, and some o' the boys attached it for their wages. Then they sent this red-whiskered man through to see what Morrison was going to do about it. He came home himself and agreed to pay every man, and to-day we got it."

Then he turned to Tony.

"How much did you make last winter?" he asked.

"A hundred and thirty-three dollars," replied Tony, omitting the odd cents.

"Four dollars more than Aaron and me," said Mr. Loring.

He got up and paced across the room and back.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he continued, speaking with some effort, "I'm going to pay that all back to you, Tony—every cent of it."

He had expected to see Tony spring to his feet with a great outburst of joy. Instead, he only shook his head and said, slowly:

"I don't want it; you can keep it."

"Well! well! well!"

It was all Job Loring could say.

"You can give me part of it, if you like," said Tony, at length. "I suppose I shall need some clothes."

"And you ain't going to peddling, nor nothing?" queried Mr. Loring.

Again Tony shook his head.

And so the matter was dropped.

Another week went by and Tony was one day walking through Ashville. He had purchased, at the earnest solicitation of his mother, a suit of well-fitting clothes; but he was low-spirited, and in spite of the money he had made, the past winter seemed a sort of failure to him.

Suddenly some one grasped him by the shoulder and a familiar voice shouted in his ear:

"Hello, Tony, how are you? I hardly knew you, with your new toggery on."

Could it be possible? Yes, he was shaking hands with Morrison.

They were near Mr. Smart's hardware store.

"Come inside," said Morrison. "I've got a bit of news to tell you."

They entered. Mr. Smart was nowhere in sight.

"Right into the office," continued the young man, gaily. "Now, no backwardness to-day. Sit right down, while I spin my yarn, as the sailors say. It was as big a surprise to me as it will be to you."

Tony sank into one of the chairs, while Morrison elevated his feet upon the desk before him.

"Now, are you ready?" he said, with a laugh. "Well, here goes. I worked in this store two years, under this man Smart—and a precious rascal he was, too—and never knew that my father owned this store and everything in it. Mr. Smart had been a clerk for father in Boston, and the object of the deception was to see if I really had any liking for business. And what do you suppose the result is?"

"I don't know," said Tony, feebly.

"I'll tell you," continued Morrison. "I was twenty-one years old yesterday, and I am sole proprietor here."

Tony looked at his companion in a peculiar way; saw how his eyes sparkled and his cheeks flushed with eagerness, and he knew that his heart was light and happy with ambition and hope. But the gulf between them was wider than ever.

"I congratulate you," he said, huskily. "I wish you everything—"

He stopped and rose to his feet, but Morrison pulled him down into the chair again.

"Don't go yet," he pleaded. "I'm not through. Now I want a favor of you. I want you in the store with me. Stop!" he said, imperatively, as Tony attempted to speak. "I know what your objection will be, but it's no use. There are evening schools here in the village, and you can attend them as much as you wish. You are bright and quick; I'll risk you. Mind before muscle, any time."

What could the poor fellow do? Nothing, except to grasp the hand of Morrison and shed tears of gladness, while his lips vainly strove to utter the thankfulness which over-flowed his heart. His wildest dreams were more than realized, and, better than all material advancement, he would not be parted from his friend.

And Morrison never had occasion to regret his offer, for Tony took to the business like a duck to water. A year later, Mr. Morrison, senior, said to Job Loring, who was making some alterations in the rich man's stable:

"A wonderfully smart boy of yours, Mr. Loring. It doesn't seem possible that twelve months can work such a change."

Job ran his great fingers through his shaggy hair, and made answer in a puzzled sort of way:

"It do seem strange, Mr. Morrison—it do, for a fact. I al'ays pitied the little chap, and kep' tellin' him he'd never be any good. But there, it shows that size don't al'ays count, and I wish Aaron could 'a had more brains, even if he didn't have quite so much muscle."

The story of Isaac Furbush's petty pilfering in some way got noised about the village, and it seemed as though the disgrace would ruin his prospects in Ashville, till Tony induced Morrison to give him a job as porter in the store.

Isaac, to whom the bitter lesson had been extremely beneficial, accepted the situation thankfully, and a goodly portion of his superfluous flesh disappeared in his zeal to prove himself worthy of his employer's confidence.

And in the hunting seasons, Morrison and Tony manage to steal away and chase the flying caribou and deer, and more than one lordly moose has been forced to succumb to their prowess and skill.

[THE END.]



A SUBMERGED CITY.

It has happened many times in the history of the world that cities have fallen into decay, and finally disappeared so entirely that their existence has not been suspected by the ordinary traveler.

Nineveh, Babylon and Carthage are the most notable instances of the destruction due to war, pestilence and famine. Sometimes Nature lends a hand, as in the following strange case:

The city authorities of Rovigno, on the peninsula of Istria, in the Adriatic Sea, have discovered a little south of the peninsula the ruins of a large town at the bottom of the sea.

It has been observed for some years that fishermen's nets were sometimes entangled in what appeared to be masses of masonry, of which fragments were brought up from the sea-bed. A year or two ago a diver declared that he had seen walls and streets below the water.

The city authorities recently decided to investigate. They sent down a diver who, at the depth of eighty-five feet, found himself surrounded on the bottom of the sea by ruined walls. He says he knows they were the work of man. He is a builder by trade, and he recognized the layers of mortar.

Continuing his explorations, he traced the line of walls, and was able to distinguish how the streets were laid out. He did not see any doors or window openings, for they were hidden by masses of seaweed and incrustations.

He traced the masonry for a distance of one hundred feet, where he had to stop, as his diving cord did not permit him to go further. He had proved beyond a doubt that he had found the ruins of an inhabited town, which, through some catastrophe, had been sunk to the bottom of the sea.

Some people think that they identify this lost town with the island mentioned by Pliny the Elder, under the name of Cissa, near Istria. This island cannot be found now, and it is thought the submerged town may have been a settlement on the island that so mysteriously disappeared.



ST. NICHOLAS.

A very pretty legend from Germany tells how St. Nicholas came to be considered the patron saint of children. One day, so the story goes, he was passing by a miserable house, when he heard the sound of weeping within.

Stepping softly to the open window, he heard a father lamenting the wretched fate to which his three lovely young daughters were doomed by poverty. St. Nicholas' gentle heart was touched. He returned at night and threw in at the window three bags of gold sufficient for the dowry of the girls. His kindness to them, and to many others equally wretched, made him regarded as the especial benefactor of children.

In Russia he is reverenced as the chief saint of the Greek Church, but in Germany, Switzerland, Holland and Austria it is as the children's saint that he is chiefly honored. The good Dutch burghers who founded New Amsterdam placed the little settlement under his care. It has grown to be the great city of New York, but his name is no less honored in the splendid metropolis than in the humble Dutch town.

* * * * *

PUZZLEDOM.

*No. DLXVI.*

Original contributions solicited from all. Puzzles containing obsolete words will be received. Write contributions on one side of the paper, and apart from all communications. Address "Puzzle Editor," GOLDEN DAYS, Philadelphia, Pa.

ANSWERS TO LAST WEEK'S PUZZLES

No. 1. Quiet—quite.

No. 2.

R M A W M I C O S M I T H R A S R A C H I L L A S W O R L D L Y S A L L Y S A Y S

No. 3. P-reserved.

No. 4.

A S T Y S H O E S S E A M A I D B A L L I S T A S C O L L E C T E D L Y

No. 5. Y-our.

No. 6.

R E P U T E S H A R E L I P S I M I L E S C O V E N T S S Y R I N G A P I M E N T O P A R E R G A

No. 7. A very Merry Christmas to all those in our 'Thedom.

No. 8.

M R A S P E T E R R E F U T E R M A T U T I N A L S E T I R E M E R E N E G E S R A M E N T L E S T S

No. 9. The eminent posers.

No. 10.

C A N D L E W A S T E R P A R A D I S E A N B A N I S T E R B E T T E R S E I R D T

NEW PUZZLES.

No. 1. CHARADE.

The glad New Year again is here, With joy and merriment bedight, Let vanish now all worldly fear. Last peace let every heart be light.

This is the time for turning leaves, And living better lives withal, And he who o'er the past year grieves. His wayward thoughts must overhaul.

The youth his diary will grasp, And write complete about his love; He calculates when next he'll clasp Her to his heart and call her dove.

The cashier closes up his books. And feels at ease that he is free: From taint or tarnish of the crooks. To Canada he need not flee.

The plumber also gathers in The surplus from the bygone year; His features wear an unctuous grin, He feels he is without a peer.

And so the happy New Year gives Great pleasure to both great and small; Where'er the human family lives First see we good that comes to all.

Philadelphia, Pa. Arty Fishel.

No. 2. INVERTED PYRAMID.

Across: 1. The first day of the year. 2. A poison. 3. Dutch gold. 4. Lit again. 5. Females. 6. A letter.

Down: 1. A letter. 2. A prefix. 3. A pronoun. 4. To growl like a dog (Obs.) 5. Plants. 6. Enameled (Obs.) 7. A root. 8. The tail of the hare. 9. A she deer. 10. An article. 11. A letter.

Bangor, Pa. T. Hinker.

No. 3. NUMERICAL.

The Christmas season of great joy Comes not to all without alloy. For soon will follow, in its line, The day our bills we 3, 2, 9.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 are they Who view this time without dismay— Who have no fear to 12, 10, 11, 4— Dread I.O. U's, given long before.

Such trying times must us befall, Still, a complete we wish to all. And hope you may pull safely through, 8, 1, 7, 6 your bills fall due.

Philadelphia. Pa. F. Lasher.

No. 4. STAR.

1. A letter. 2. Behold. 3. Skimmed (Obs.) 4. To array. 5. The Pope's triple crown. 6. Errors in printing. 7. Purest. 8. While. 9. A letter.

Chicago, Ill. U. Neke.

No. 5. TRANSMUTATION.

The clock strikes nine, within the school The children take their seats: Within the corner stands the fool, Him oft the primal beats.

The master sits his desk behind, The lessons now commence: "Of these verbs you will tell the kind, Also the mood and tense."

The sentences he then dictates, The pupils start the task, But soon he spies two boys—two mates— Who each other answers ask.

He calls the lasts to come to him: A flogging they expect. And, naturally, their eyes grow dim. And heads are not erect.

The master looks them in the eye. "I see you guilty are." And straightway he does make them cry. And badly do they fare.

At last the punishment dost cease, The arm descends no more, But of advice a right long piece He gives to them before

They are allowed to take their seats, With faces red with shame. Such is the punishment of cheats, And they deserve the same.

Philadelphia, Pa. O. Range.

No. 6. HEXAGON.

1. An East Indian fruit obtained from a species of cypress. 2. Armor for the arm. 3. The ends of an elliptical arch. 4. Narratives. 5. A variety of zeolite of a flesh-red color. 6. Restored the original design of. 7. Moved. 8. English essayist (1671-1729). 9. An adder or serpent (Prov. Eng.)

Litchfield, Ill. Stocles.

No. 7. CHARADE.

We are standing in the doorway, My dearest prime and I; The golden sun is sinking fast, And we must say good-by. Good-by! How can we speak the word So full of bitter pain? My laddie is going o'er the sea. We may ne'er meet again.

God grant the fine may carry him Safe on his quest away, And surely bring him home next year, Till then I'll wait and pray. Again by the door I'm standing, With my love so near to me. For my prime was true, the fine was strong, And our all will ne'er severed be.

Cambridge, Mass. Dil I. Gence.

No. 8. HALF SQUARE.

1. Representations (Obs.) 2. Charcoal. 3. Long measures of one hundred feet. 4. Excrescences growing on a horse's leg. 5. To swell. 6. A bird of ill-omen (Obs.) 7. A throng (Obs.) 8. Measures of capacity for liquids (Roman Antiq.) 9. A title for a person in authority in the East. 10. A Latin preposition. 11. A letter.

Jersey City, N.J. Itami.

No. 9. TRIPLE-LETTER ENIGMA.

In "promise wise;" In "different size;" In "endless ties."

A country, governed by an all, Is nicely situated, For it has some advantages Which can't be overrated.

DOUBLE-LETTER ENIGMA.

In "knowing looks;" In "reading books;" In "solemn rooks;" In "quiet nooks;" In "line and hooks."

My all, you'll find, is quite a good book, By a Scottish author. Now, then, look.

Rochester, N.Y. Oregon.

No. 10. INVERTED PYRAMID.

Across: 1. Restorations of lost parts of the body (Surg. Sup.) 2. The quality of being warlike. 3. A fishing boat, built sharp at both ends (Obs.) 4. Diseases of timber. 5. The kidneys. 6. Gods (Latin). 7. A letter.

Down: 1. A letter. 2. An abbreviation. 3. To strike with a sharp blow. 4. Angers (Poet.) 5. The aromatic principle of flowers. 6. Peeped (Obs.) 7. Small carts used in mines (Supp.) 8. Italian singer (1824 ——). 9. Blows the nose (Low). 10. Suppers. 11. An affix signifying one who. 12. A prefix. 13. A letter.

Brooklyn, N.Y. Gemini.

No. 11. TRANSPOSITION.

Little Dick Was very sick From eating primal hard; He went above, Where all is love. And now last his reward.

Rochester, N.Y. R.O. Chester.

No. 12. C.C. HEXAGON.

Across: 1. An abbreviation. 2. A dish of stewed meat. 3. A small rodent mammal. 4. A kind of cold cream. 5. Polishes. 6. A softening of statement (Rhet.) 7. Nitrate of potassa. 8. A French article. 9. A letter.

Down: 1. Probable. 2. A scale of anything. 3. A fagot of brushwood. 4. Shining. 5. Water passages (Prov. Eng.) 6. Durations. 7. One who defrauds. 8. Boundaries. 9. Movements.

Logan, Pa. H.C. W.

-> Answers will appear in our next issue; solvers in six weeks.

SOLVERS.

Puzzles in "PUZZLEDOM" No. DLX were correctly solved by Goldey and Pen Ledcil, Hello, Irish Foreman, Carl, Nucky and Eskaletta, Carrie Wilmer, Little Rhody, Weesie, R.O. Chester, Lowell, Madeline, Charles Goodwin, Thad R. French, Addle Shun, Ham, Stanna, Viscum, Rosalind, Fred L. Comstock, Romulus, Jim Nast, Windsor Boy, Gemini, Night, Ed U. Kate, Katie O'Neill, John Watson, Dorlo, Auburnian, Olive, Legs, Spider, Theresa, Arty Fished, Joe-de-Joe, Flora Nightingale, M.E.T., Herbie C., Miranda, Alcaeus, Orlando, Mary Roland, Carrie Ketchum, Cypress, Andrew F., Tan, Sir Joseph, Venio Vincere, Flare, Pantagrapher, Lucrezius Borgers, May Le Hosmer and Magnolia, Jack O'Lantern and T. Hinker, Sam Smart, Esq., Osceola and Martin Dale.

COMPLETE LIST.—Goldey and Pen Ledcil.

PALAVER.

Once more we wish to draw the attention of all Puzzlers who favor us with their contributions to a very necessary caution in the selection of the words which they use in the work. Some unscrupulous puzzlers see no objection to using any word, since they are able to make successful combinations. We are of a different mind, in this department. Puzzledom in GOLDEN DAYS has a very varied constituency, which includes old and young, boys and girls, men and women. We intend to keep it a bright, progressive department—above all, clean and without reproach in any particular. Therefore, puzzlers who are given to the use of words of double meaning, or words whose reputation is shady in the slightest respect, so to speak, will please bear this in mind and not in such a way spoil an otherwise excellent piece of work which they may desire to see in our columns.

THAD R. FRENCH.—Your puzzle comes under the above criticism. You are new, however, and we hope you will receive the timely word of advice. If so, you are very welcome to our ranks. Would like to hear again from you.



NEW YEAR'S NICK-NACKS.

—A correspondent wants to know if "fits are hereditary." Any small boy, compelled to wear out his father's old clothes, could tell him they are not.

—There are many shoots in a park of artillery.

—"What are you doing?" demanded a furniture dealer of his clerk, who upset an extension table. "I'm only turning over a leaf, sir."



—City Dame (in the country): "Boy, can't you get me some cat-tails?" Country Boy: "Yes'm. Long ones?" City Dame: "Oh, long or short, whichever are the prettier!" Boy: "Well, mum, I guess I'd better just bring you the cats, an' you can cut the tails off to suit yourself."

A Mean Swindle. —Mistress: "Did you ask for milk bread?" Domestic: "Yes, mum." "What a miserable little loaf they gave you!" "Yes, mum. It's my opinion, mum, that that baker is using condensed milk."

—"What's the matter with you to-day, Tommy? You seem to be uneasy." "I am," said the bad little boy. "Yesterday was pa's and ma's wooden wedding, and all the neighbors sent 'em shingles."

—A square meal generally costs a round price.

—The pupil of the eye is incessantly lashed.

—Mrs. Pennifeather: "Goodness gracious! I wonder what in the world has become of all my tarts?" Mr. P.: "Where did you put them?" Mrs. P.: "Right on the window-sill here." Mr. P.: "That accounts for it. You have carelessly exposed them to the son."

—It is his exalted position that makes the weather cock vane.

—Father (severely): "My son, this is a disgraceful condition of affairs. This report says you are the last boy in a class of twenty-two." Henry: "It might have been worse, father." Father: "I can't see how." Henry: "There might have been more boys in the class."

—Sunday School Superintendent: "Who led the children of Israel into Canaan? Will one of the smaller boys answer?" No reply. Superintendent (somewhat sternly): "Can no one tell? Little boy, on that seat next to the aisle, who led the children of Israel into Canaan?" Little Boy (badly frightened): "It wasn't me. I—I jist moved yere last week f'm Missoury."

—The concave mirror is not exactly a humorist, but it makes some very amusing reflections.

—"Boy, I read in your eyes that you have told a lie." "Papa, that is impossible. You cannot read without spectacles."

—Sauso: "Why did you yell 'Stop thief!' at the man who was running toward the railroad station?" Rodd: "I saw that he was going to take a car."

—A chilly salutation— "Shake!"

—Weeks: "I'm afraid Brown is not very steady. I don't think he will stick to his business." Wentman: "Oh, yes he will. You forget he is working in a glue factory."

—"Do you distrust fat men, captain?" "Well, no," returned the old sea-dog, "not exactly; but I always give them a wide berth."

—"Here, I bought this compass of you, t'other day, but it's no good. It points north, east, south or west, just as it happens." "Ah, but you don't understand. You see the needle points this way. Now turn the compass around this way—see?—there you are. That's north." "Yes, but if I know where north is, what in time do I want a compass for?"

—Sunday-school teacher: "And when the wicked children continued mocking the good prophet, two she bears came out of the mountain and ate up over forty of the wicked children. Now, boys, what lesson does this teach us?" Jimpsy Primrose: "I know." Teacher: "Well, Jimpsy?" Jimpsy Primrose: "It teaches us how many children a she bear can hold."

—Cousin Nell (inculcating generosity): "Supposing your chicken should lay a nice egg, Tommy; would you give it to me?" Tommy: "No; I'd sell it to a dime museum. That chick's a rooster."

—A corn dodger—The careful dancer.

—"Had I better make a list of the prize cows and pigs?" asked the secretary of an agricultural fair. "Yes," replied the president. "Cattle hog them."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

OUR LETTER BOX.

TANITE.—The flag signals used by the U.S. Signal Service to designate the state of the weather were fully explained in No. 11 of the volume just ended. They do not vary in the different cities, the code holding good for every portion of this country.

QUI VIVE.—Bowditch is the standard authority on navigation, and all the theoretical knowledge necessary can be gained by a close and persistent study of his work on that subject. The best way for a boy to learn it practically is to enlist as a naval apprentice on one of the United States training ships.

SKATER.—First, place coal oil on the rusted skates and allow it to remain until the rust becomes softened, after which it can be easily removed by rubbing with fine sand paper or emery cloth. After using, they should be wiped dry and then rubbed with an oily rag before being placed in the case, or flannel bag.

M.P.J.—1. Rabbit skins are extensively used in making hats, caps and muffs, and for lining garments of various kinds, such as circulars, overcoats and the like. They are dressed in the usual manner, the fur being dyed to imitate many of the higher grades procured from the ermine, beaver and other animals. 2. An article on electro-plating was given space in No. 23 of the last volume.

G.E.B.—Several manuals relating to the use of fire-arms of various kinds are obtainable from book dealers in various parts of the country. The most expert rifle and revolver shots have gained all their knowledge by actual practice, placing no dependence on printed rules, but paying particular attention to the make of the weapon selected and thoroughly acquainting themselves with its construction.

SCHUYLER.—1. A vacuum air-brake, of which there are several patterns, is a kind of continuous brake, operated by exhausting the air from some appliance under each car, and so causing the pressure of the atmosphere to apply the brakes. 2. Nos. 4, 5, 13 and 17, Vol. IV are out of print. 3. After indulging in gymnastic exercises, it is said that the hands can be kept in good condition by rubbing them with alcohol.

M.J.A. AND H.S.D.—Your kind appreciation of the issue in question gives great pleasure to the publisher. There was no such number this year, in so far as the illuminated cover is concerned; but in the matter of stories, you will find that the contents of No. 5, of this volume, far surpass any other devoted to Christmas literature. It is full to the brim with good things well suited to the joyous season to which it is dedicated.

ELECTRA.—1. If the directions for making electric motors presented in No. 3 are followed to the letter, you will be successful, but, if substitutions and alterations are made, the result will be that the apparatus will prove useless. 2. It is not at all likely that the company will interfere with the miniature telephone. 3. As the elements in a Bunsen battery are immersed in sulphuric and nitric acids, it would not he advisable to place it in a sleeping apartment.

C. OGDEN.—1. There are forty-four States in the Union. 2. The famous River Nile is formed by the union of the Bahr-el-Abiad and the Bahr-el-Azrek. The first of these, or the true Nile, has its source in Lake Victoria Nyanza, and the second rises in Abyssinia. The Kagera and Shimiyu rivers, and the waters that descend from the plateaux from which rise the snowy peaks of Kenia and Kilimanjaro, unite to form that wonderful fresh-water lake, Victoria Nyanza, which covers an area of upwards of 40,000 square miles.

W.F.S.—1. Minorcas, Hamburgs or Leghorns are the best laying fowls, while Plymouth Rocks, Wyandottes or Langshans are the best to raise for marketing purposes. 2. It will be found both cheaper and more satisfactory to buy ready-prepared mocking-bird food from a dealer in bird supplies or a druggist. The food for young mocking-birds should he meal and milk, and occasionally finely-minced fresh meat. Grasshoppers, spiders and meal-worms should be given to the old birds, together with a liberal supply of the prepared food.

STUDENT.—Among the ancients, and during the earlier part of the middle ages, there was no distinction of capital and small letters. After the practice had been introduced of beginning books and chapters with large letters, often adorned or illustrated with artistic ability, it was not long before capital letters were employed in much the same way as at the present day. At times, however, their use was so extravagantly indulged in that many of the old books present a ludicrous appearance to the latter-day readers. The exact date at which they came to be universally used is unknown.

TWO OLD CRONIES.—1. A boy aged eighteen is not too old to learn how to play the piano, violin or any other musical instrument. There are thousands of stenographers who did not take up that profession until they were twenty-five or thirty years of age. They were firm believers in the adage, "It is never too late to learn." 2. Munson's appears to be the most popular system of shorthand. 3. A ten or fifteen minutes' walk in the open air before taking breakfast will do no harm; but indulgence in other forms of exercise should be reserved for the middle of the day, if possible, or an hour or so after eating supper.

H.T.C., BIZ AND J.A.M.—Candidates for clerkships in the government departments must pass a civil service examination in arithmetic, geography, grammar, history, reading, writing and spelling, and in some cases a knowledge of book-keeping is required. This depends upon the branch of the service and the special position for which application is made. Those desiring to enter the railway mail service must, among other things, give the boundaries of their own county, State and country; the location of all the States and Territories, locate all the counties along a specified mail route, locate offices on the route and exhibit a thorough understanding of the geography of the United States.

FRANK W.—1. According to Caesar, the first coins of what is now called Great Britain were of tin, and he has been substantiated by the discovery of pieces made of that material. The first copper coins made by the United States Mint were one cent and one-half cent pieces, of which there were four designs, designated the "chain cent," the "wreath cent," the "flowing-hair cent" and the "liberty cap cent." 2. The letter, or mark on a coin designating the mint at which it was struck, is called the "mint mark." The U.S. coins struck at the parent mint, at Philadelphia, bear no such mark; those displaying a small "S" immediately under the denomination are coined in San Francisco, while "C.C." stands for Carson City, and "O" for New Orleans.

EX-CONFED.—A glue well adapted for any work which requires particular strength is made by dissolving an ounce of the best isinglass, by the application of a moderate heat, in a pint of water. After straining this solution an ounce of the best glue, previously soaked in water for twenty-four hours, and a gill of vinegar should be added. After all of these materials have been brought into a solution, the mixture should be allowed to boil up once, and then the impurities must be strained off. A handy method of making glue for ready use is to employ common whisky instead of water in dissolving any quantity of glue. Put both together in a bottle, cork it tight and let it stand for three or four days, when it will be ready for use without the application of heat.

BIRDIE HAIGHT.—1. The American swan breeds in the northern parts of America, and its migrations extend only to North Carolina. Another American species is the Trumpeter Swan, breeding chiefly within the Arctic Circle, but of which large flocks are seen in winter as far south as Texas. It is smaller than the common swan, which is found in its wild state in Asia and the eastern parts of Europe. In a half-domesticated state it has long been a common ornament in lakes and ponds in this country and Europe, more especially the latter. The black swan is a native of Australia. 2. Varicose veins, it is said, may be radically cured by a surgical operation, but the disease may reappear in some other portion of the body, there being no way to prevent it. 3. Papua, or New Guinea, is the largest island in the world. Australia now ranks as one of the grand divisions of the earth.

S.A.M.—Eighteen articles on electricity have been published in this and previous volumes. They were: "A Cheap Electrical Machine," Vol. II, No. 22; "How to Make a Simple Electrical Machine," Vol. VI, No. 3; "Experiments of Various Kinds," Vol. VI, No. 4; "A Storm in a Teacup," Vol. VI, No. 9; "The Leyden Jar and How to Make It," Vol. VI, No. 20; "The Electrician at Home," Vol. VII, No. 16: "A Mysterious Alarm," Vol. VIII, No. 14; "Studies in Static Electricity," Vol. IX. No. 30, "How to Make an Electrical Machine," Vol. IX, No. 20; "How to Make an Electric Battery," Vol. X, No. 8; "The Induction Coil and How to Make It," Vol. X, No. 28; "A Simple Electrical Machine," Vol. XI, No. 6: "Simple Electrical Experiments." Vol. XI, No. 15; "An Electric Bell Outfit," Vol. XI, No. 20; "How to Make a Storage Battery," Vol. XI, No. 25; "Induction Coil Condenser," Vol. XI, No. 47; "Electric Lamps and How to Work Them," Vol. XII, Nos. 1 and 2; and "Electro-Motors and How to Make Them," Vol. XII, No. 3.

BIAS EYES.—1. Letters relating to business matters connected with this paper—such as inquiries relating to advertising rates—are the only ones answered by mail. They must invariably contain a stamp to pay postage on such reply. 2. Any reader complying with the rules governing the exchange department is entitled to its privileges. 3. He is an Englishman by birth. 4. The principal use of the bell on board ships is to denote the time of the day or night, which is done by 1, 2, 3, and so on, up to eight strokes of the bell. The twelve hours between midnight and noon, or noon and midnight, are divided into three portions of eight bells each, the duration of time between bells being half an hour. Consequently, during the course of each twelve hours, the same number of strokes of the bell will necessarily be used to denote three different hours or periods of time, as follows:

1 bell at 12.30, 4.30, 8.30. 2 bells " 1.00, 5.00, 9.00. 3 " " 1.30, 5.30, 9.30. 4 " " 2.00, 6.00, 10.00. 5 " " 2.30, 6.30, 10.30. 6 " " 3.00, 7.00, 11.00. 7 " " 3.30, 7.30, 11.30. 8 " " 4.00, 8.00, 12.00.

5. The magnetized needle of a compass has the property of arranging itself in the meridian, one end always pointing to the north and the other to the south; yet not exactly, but with a deflection or declination which varies from time to time in magnitude, and may be toward the west or the east.

A READER OF GOLDEN DAYS. A very plain and simple method of making snow-shoes was furnished our readers in Vol. Vll, No. 2. —ROD AND GUN. In Nos. 15, Vol. I; 23, 24 and 36, Vol. II, will be found articles devoted to the subject of camping out, which contain all requisite information regarding that form of recreation. —DODY. The Spanish sentence is untranslatable, several of the words being beyond the ken of any one who understands that language. —LAWYER. The gentleman representing your district in Congress is the proper person to whom application should be made for copies of the "Congressional Record" and Department Reports. —J.S.T. A portion of No. 52, Vol. VIII, was devoted to a minute description of ice-boat building. —A.S. 1. California half-dollars, in perfect condition, are worth 60 or 70 cents each. 2. It is claimed to be very efficacious. —W.P. Your offer is respectfully declined. We have already provided many articles on electricity in its various forms, and from time to time will publish others by practical writers. —NENA. 1. The titles of the serials in the volumes named are printed in the index furnished with each. 2. Harry Castlemon was the author of "The House-Boat Boys." —CONSTANT READER. We never supply business addresses. —JIM. Not possessing the key we are unable to solve the cryptogram. —L.F. It is a very interesting game, suited to the tastes of both old and young. The query was sent too late to be answered in the Christmas Issue. —BYRON V. Refer the matter to a local engineer. —HOWARD W.E. A description of the way to make a small storage battery appeared in Vol. XI. No. 25. —CONSTANT READER. Books devoted to hypnotism have been written by Drs. Hammond, Bernheim, Moll and Raue, besides which it has formed the subject of many magazine articles. —WHEELMAN. Read the description of electroplating in Vol. XI, No. 23. —J.L.J. No premium. —W.K. 1. We do not pay for contributions to "Puzzledom." 2. All the stories, sketches, etc., published in these columns are written by experienced authors. —O.J.C.U. 1. The papers are mailed from this office on Friday night. 2. Yes; in any sum less than one dollar.

-> Several communications have been received which will be answered next week.



* * * * *

Your Worst Enemy

Is that scrofulous humor in your blood which manifests itself in festers every time the skin is scratched or broken, or in hives, pimples, boils, and other eruptions, causes salt rheum, or breaks out in occasional or continuous running sores. *Get Rid of it at Once*, or some time when your system is weak it will become your master. Hood's Sarsaparilla is the remedy which will purify your blood, expel all trace of disease and give you strength.

*Hood's Sarsaparilla*

Sold by all druggists. $1; six for $5. Prepared only by C.I. HOOD & CO., Apothecaries, Lowell, Mass.

100 Doses One Dollar

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*CONSUMPTION.*

I have a positive remedy for the above disease; by its use thousands of cases of the worst kind and of long standing have been cured. Indeed so strong is my faith in its efficacy, that I will send TWO BOTTLES FREE, with a VALUABLE TREATISE on this disease to any sufferer who will send me their Express and P.O. address. *T.A. Slocum, M.C., 181 Pearl St., N.Y*

* * * * *

*From the Clifton and Lansdowne Times.*

GOLDEN DAYS.—We would like to be able to place this weekly journal in the hands of every girl and boy in the county who cannot afford to subscribe for or buy it from news agents. But the girls and boys of that kind, we fear, are "too many for us." A sad fact, too, by-the-way, when we reflect that a little thought and a bit of economy on the part of themselves or their parents would do what it is not in our power to accomplish. Nevertheless, they ought to know what GOLDEN DAYS is, namely, a sixteen-page weekly journal, with finely-illustrated articles on various subjects of interest to young people, embracing natural history, philosophy and other branches of education, together with pleasing, instructive and moral stories by the best authors. It is just what is wanted for the youthful mind seeking for useful information, and ready at the same time to enjoy what is entertaining and healthful. If all girls and boys could peruse and profit by its columns every week, they in time would grow up to be women and men, intelligent, patriotic and influential in their lives; and lest any who may read these words are ignorant—which is hardly possible—of the whereabouts of GOLDEN DAYS, we gladly give the address, James Elverson, Ninth and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia.

*From the Commercial List and Price Current, Philada.*

GOLDEN DAYS.—That was a happy title chosen by Mr. James Elverson for his weekly journal, published at his great establishment, Ninth and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia. In this early part of its tenth volume, it shows, as every number of the past has done, a steady growth in vigor. The acorn sprout has gradually to expand and shoot upward in the air and light before it becomes the majestic oak of the forest; but all the while it is growing, it is putting forth new beauties and fastening its roots deeply and strongly in the earth. GOLDEN DAYS is that young monarch of the "literary wood," and it well deserves the honor. Year by year it has grown in favor with the young people of the country. By its distinctive American features, by its efforts to impart knowledge in an instructive and pleasing way to youth, and all through pure channels of information, it has to attribute its popularity. There is not in this or any other country a journal published for young people so meritorious as GOLDEN DAYS. You might call every weekly number a golden treasure, and never be amiss. It is what is needed in every family where there are girls and boys, for in its columns there is instruction, wisdom and harmless entertainment.

*From the Republican Progress, Bloomington, Ind.*

Elverson's GOLDEN DAYS is a publication that needs but an examination to recommend it to the public at large. It is handsomely printed on heavy paper, its illustrations are the best that money will procure, while the stories are written by authors of established reputation. GOLDEN DAYS is one of those magazines that cause the reader to be impatient for the next issue, because each number is a promise of something still better to come. Every boy or girl who is a patron of GOLDEN DAYS has a fund of information at hand that to not easily procured, as to travels and travelers in foreign lands.