The strange lady was at the cottage several weeks, and the children soon learned to love her dearly. She was fond of rambling about with them, and was seldom to be found within the house when the weather was fair. She never went near the road, but preferred the oak wood, and sometimes when the children were amusing themselves she would sit for hours absorbed in deep thought or singing to herself in a sad and dreamy way.

At other times she would interest herself in the children, and tell them of things in the world outside the forest. She praised Carl's pictures, and showed him how to work in his colors so as to more effectively bring out the perspective, and tried to educate his taste, as far as she could, by describing the pictures of the great masters. She often said afterwards that she could never have lived through those dark days but for the comfort she found in the children.

Carl saw that she was sorrowful, and he understood that her sadness was not because of the plain fare and the way of living at the forester's cottage, which he knew must seem rough indeed to her, but because of some great grief. What this grief was he could not guess, for the children had been told nothing about the beautiful lady, except that her name was Lady Clarice. She never complained, but the boy's wistful eyes would follow her as she moved among the trees, and his heart would swell with pity; and how he would long to do something to prove to her how he loved her!

The forester told Carl that the cavalier was with the army. But he did not come to the cottage, and there was no way for the Lady Clarice to hear from him, and she shuddered at the sound of the great guns. And finally she fell sick. Nurse Heine did what she could for her, but the lady grew worse. She felt that she should die, and it almost broke Carl's heart to hear her moaning: "Oh! if I could but see him once more!" He knew she meant the noble cavalier, but how should he get word to him? The old forester was just then stiff with rheumatism, and could scarcely move from his chair.

"I will go myself!" said Carl to himself one day, "or she will die with grief!"

Without saying a word to anybody about the matter, for fear that he would not be allowed to go, he stole out of the house in the gray of the morning, while all were asleep, and, making his way to the open road, he turned in the direction from whence, at times, had come the sound of the cannon. As long as he was in the part of the road that he knew, he kept up a stout heart, but when he left that he began to grow frightened. The road was so lonely, and strange sounds seemed to come out of the forest that stretched away, so black and thick, on each side! He wondered if any fierce beasts were there, or if robbers were lurking behind the rocks. But he thought of the beautiful lady, his kind friend, sick and dying, and that thought was more powerful than his fear. At noon he rested for awhile, and ate a few dry biscuits he had put in his pockets.

It was near sunset when he saw that the trees stood less closely together, the road looked more travel-worn, and there came with the wind a confused and continuous noise. Then Carl was seized with terror. "I am now near the camp," he thought. "Suppose a battle is going on, and I am struck with a ball. I shall die, and father and little Greta will not know what became of me, and the beautiful lady will never know that I died in her service! Or if I meet a soldier, and he don't believe my story, maybe he'll run a bayonet through me!"

It was not too late then to turn back and flee swiftly up the forest road, and Carl paused.

But in a few moments he went on, animated by the noblest kind of courage—that which feels there is danger, but is determined to face it in the cause of duty, affection, and humanity.

At last he stepped out of the forest, and there, before him, was spread out the vast encampment of the army! There was not time to wonder at the sight before he was challenged by a sentinel. Carl had made up his mind what to say, and that he would not mention the lady. So he promptly replied that he wanted to see a noble lord who had a sick friend at a cottage in the forest.

As the boy could not tell the name or rank of the noble lord, the sentinel sent him to an officer, and to him Carl told the same story, but he described the man of whom he was in search so accurately that the officer sent him at once to the proper person. And Carl found that he was a very great personage indeed, and held a high command in the army. He did not recognize Carl, but as soon as the boy told his errand he became very much agitated.

"I will go at once," he said; "but I cannot leave you here, my brave boy! Can you ride?"

Now Carl knew how to sit on a horse, and how to hold the bridle, for he had ridden the wood-cutters' horses sometimes, so he answered that he thought he could ride. The Duke (for such was his title) ordered some refreshments set before the boy, and then went out to make his arrangements, choosing his gentlest horse for Carl.

In half an hour they were in the forest, speeding like the wind. Carl felt as if he was flying. The horse chose his own gait, and tried to keep up with the one that the Duke was riding; but finally, finding this impossible, he slackened his pace, greatly to Carl's relief. But the Duke was too anxious about his lady to accommodate himself to the slower speed of the boy, and soon swept out of sight around a bend in the road. His cloak and the long feathers of his hat streamed on the night wind for a moment longer. Then they vanished, and Carl was alone.

Carl was somewhat afraid of the horse, for he was not used to such a high-mettled steed; but, on the whole, he was glad he was mounted on it. For if the woods had seemed lonely in the daylight they were ten times more so in the night. And the noises seemed more fearful than before. And Carl thought if any furious beast or robber should dart upon him, he could make the horse carry him swiftly away. As it was he let the horse do as he pleased, and as Carl sat quietly and did not worry him in any way, he pleased to go along very smoothly, and rather slowly, so it was past midnight when they reached home.



Carl found that the Duke had been there a long time; that the lady was overjoyed to see him, and Nurse Heine said she began to grow better from that moment.

The next morning the Duke went away; but before he left he thanked Carl for the great service he had done him, and gave him a piece of gold. But Carl was better pleased when the lady called him into her room, and kissed him, and cried over him, and praised him for a kind, brave boy, and said he had saved her life.

And when she got well Carl noticed that she was brighter and happier than she had been before.

In a short time, however, she went away with the Duke, in a grand coach, with servants and outriders. And Carl and Greta watched them as they were whirled up the forest road, and then walked home through the pines with sad hearts.

Then the forester told his children that the Duke had married this lady secretly, against the king's command, and he had so many bitter and cruel enemies that he was afraid they would do her some evil while he was away in the war. She knew of the forester, because his wife had been a maid of her mother's, so she came to this lonely place for safety. But now the king was pleased, and it was all right.

The winter came and went. The war was over. And then Lady Clarice, whom the children never expected to see again, sent for them, and the forester, and Nurse Heine, to her castle. She provided for them all, and Greta grew up into a pretty and well-bred young lady.

Lady Clarice had not forgotten the brave act of the boy, and also remembered what he liked best in the world. So she had him taught to draw and paint, and in process of time he became a great artist, and all the world knew of his name and fame.



SCHOOL'S OUT!



What a welcome and joyful sound! In the winter, when the days are short, and the sun, near the end of the six school hours, sinks so low that the light in the room grows dim and gray, with what impatience, my dear child, do you wait for this signal! But it is in the long summer days that you find school most tiresome. The air in the room is hot and drowsy, and outside you can see there is a breeze blowing, for the trees are gently tossing their green boughs as if to twit you with having to work out sums in such glorious weather. And there come to your ears the pleasant sounds of the buzzing of insects and twittering of birds, and the brook splashing over the stones. Then the four walls of the school-room look very dreary, and the maps glare at you, and the black-boards frown darkly, and the benches seem very hard, and the ink-bespattered desks appear more grimy than ever.

This was the time when the heart of the Dominie would be touched with pity, and he would say in his bright way: "Now, children, I am going to read you something!"

Instantly the half-closed eyes would open, the drooping heads would be raised, the vacant faces would brighten, and the little cramped legs would be stretched out with a sigh of relief. And then the Dominie would read them something that was not only instructive, but very entertaining. Sometimes, instead of reading to them, he would set them to declaiming or reciting poetry, or they would choose sides and have a spelling match. They would get so interested that they would forget all about the birds and sunshine without. They did not even know that they were learning all this time.

For the Dominie had all sorts of pleasant ways of teaching his scholars. Not but what they had to work hard too, for nobody can accomplish anything worth having without putting a good deal of hard work in it.

You see the Dominie's portrait in the picture. The fringe of hair around his bald head was as white as snow; his black eyes were bright and merry; and he had a kindly face. His name was Morris Harvey, but everybody called him Dominie, and he liked that name best. All the village people respected and loved the old man; and every child in the village school that he taught, from the largest boy, whose legs were so long that he did not know what to do with them, down to Bessie Gay, who could scarcely reach up to the top of a desk, were very fond indeed of him.

But even under the Dominie's kindly rule, "School's out!" was always a welcome sound. What a noise there would be in the school-room for a minute; and then such a grand rush out into the open air! and such merry shouts! The Dominie would look after them with a smile. He wanted them to study, but he was glad that it was natural for them to love to play.

If little Charlie Lane had known this he would not have had such a cry the morning he went to school for the first time. He thought his mother very cruel to make him go, and, I am sorry to say, not only cried before he started, but all the way to the school-house. The Dominie took no notice of this, and Charlie soon found that school was not such a very dreadful place. And there was the nice playtime in the middle of the day. And, when school was out, the Dominie took him on his knee and gave him a big apple, and showed him a book full of bright pictures, and told him a story about every one of them.

You can see the little fellow on the Dominie's lap, looking earnestly at a picture in the book; and the old man is pleased that the child is pleased. The Dominie is sitting in his big chair, and his dinner-bag is hanging on the back of it. On the black-board over his head you see little Charlie's lesson for that day. It is on the right, and consists of the letters A, B, C, which the child has been staring at until he knows them perfectly in any book that is given to him. On the left, is a sum; and somebody has tried to draw an almanac sun on the lower part of the board. Across the top the Dominie has written a copy. You can read it plainly. It was a favorite saying of his; and a very good one too.

Have we not, all of us, a great deal to make us happy? What pleasure is it to you to go about with a cross or melancholy face? Try to think of something pleasant, and call up a smile. Put the ill-natured feelings out of your heart, and then the brightness will come to your face without further trouble. If you have a hard task to do, being cross won't help you along one bit. Go to work at it with a will, and you will be surprised to find how soon it will be done. Then, with a clear conscience and a glad heart, you can sit waiting for the welcome sound, "School's out!"



NEST-BUILDERS.

"Birds in their little nests agree," but they do not at all agree in their manner of building the said nests.

They have all sorts of ideas on this subject. Nearly every species of bird has a nest peculiar to itself, and the variety is astonishing. There are nests like cups, and nests like saucers; nests which are firmly fixed among the solid rocks, and nests which wave about on the ends of slender branches; nests which are perched on the very tops of the tallest trees, and nests which are hidden in the ground. There are great nests, which will hold a bushel or two of eggs, and little bits of things, into which you could scarcely put half a dozen peas.

In mentioning some of these nests, it will be needless for us to say much of those with which we are all familiar. In our rambles together we must try and see as many novelties as possible, for we may not always have the chance of wandering freely into any part of the world to which our fancy may lead us. I remember a little girl who used to come to our house when I was a boy, and who never cared for anything at table that was not something of a novelty to her. When offered potatoes, she would frankly say: "No, thank you; I can get them at home."

So we will not meddle with hens' nests, robins' nests, and all the nests, big and little, that we find about our homes, for they are the "potatoes" of a subject like this, but will try and find some nests that are a little out of the way, and curious.

But we must stop—just one moment—before we leave home, and look at a wren's nest.

The Wren, although a very common little bird with us, does not build a common nest. She makes it round, like a ball, or a woolly orange, with a little hole at one side for a door. Inside, it is just as soft and comfortable as anything can be. Being such a little bird herself, she could not cover and protect her young ones from cold and danger so well as the larger cat-birds and robins, and her nest is contrived so that there will not be much covering to do.



That beautiful bird, the Baltimore Oriole, which may be familiar to some of you, makes its nest somewhat on the plan of the wren, the similarity consisting in the fact that the structure is intended to shelter both parent and young. The oriole, which is a great deal larger than a wren, builds a much larger nest, forming it like a bag, with a hole in one end, and hangs it on the branch of a tree.



It is scarcely possible for any harm to come to the young orioles, when they are lying snugly at the bottom of the deep nest and their mother is sitting on a twig near by, ready to protect them at the hazard of her life.

But, for all the apparent security of this nest, so deep, so warm, so firmly secured to the twigs and branches, the little orioles are not entirely safe. Their mother may protect them from rain and cold; from winged enemies and creeping serpents, but she cannot defend them against the attacks of boys and men. An oriole's nest is such a curious structure, and the birds are known to be of such fine form and gorgeous plumage, that many boys cannot resist the temptation of climbing up after them and, if there are young ones within, of carrying the whole affair away in order to try and "raise" the young birds. Sometimes the nest is put in a cage, where the old bird can come and feed its young, and in other cases the captor undertakes to do the feeding himself. I have seen experiments of this kind tried, but never knew the slightest success to follow them, and the attempt, generally useless, is always cruel.

But we must positively get away from home and look at some nests to which few or none of us are accustomed.

There, for instance, is the nest of the Burrowing-Owl, a native of South America and the regions west of the Rocky Mountains. This little bird, much smaller than our common owls, likes to live in the ground. But not having been provided by nature with digging appendages, he cannot make a hole or burrow for himself, and so he takes up his abode in the underground holes made by the little prairie-dogs for their own homes. It is not at all certain that these owls should be called usurpers or thieves. They may, in some cases, get entire possession of the holes, but very often they live very sociably with the prairie-dogs, and may, for all we know, pay for their lodgings by bringing in grain and seeds, along with the worms and insects which they reserve for their own table. Any one who does not possess a habitation of his own, must occasionally expect to be thrown among strange companions, and this very often happens to the burrowing-owl. Travellers tell us that not only do the prairie-dogs and owls live together in these burrows, but that great rattlesnakes sometimes take up their residence therein—all three families seeming to live together in peace and unity. I think that it is probable, however, that the little dogs and owls are not at all pleased with the company of the snakes. A prairie-dog will not eat an owl, and without the dog is very young indeed, an owl will not eat him; but a great snake would just as soon swallow either of them as not, if he happened to be hungry, which fortunately is not often the case, for a good meal lasts a snake a long time. But the owls and the prairie-dogs have no way of ridding themselves of their unwelcome roommates, and, like human beings, they are obliged to patiently endure the ills they cannot banish. Perhaps, like human beings again, they become so accustomed to these ills that they forget how disagreeable they are.



There is a bird—and it is a Flamingo—which builds a nest which looks to me as if it must be very unpleasant to sit upon. And yet it suits the bird very well. In fact, on any other kind of a nest, the flamingo might not know what to do with its legs.



It would appear as if there had been a waste of material in making such a large high nest, when only two or three moderate-sized eggs are placed in the slight depression at the top; but, when we consider that the flamingo uses this tall affair as a seat, as well as a nest, we can easily understand that flamingoes, like most other birds, understand how to adapt their nests to their own convenience and peculiarities. Sitting astraddle on one of these tall nests, which look something like peach-baskets turned upside down, with her head stuck as far under her wing as she can get it, the flamingo dozes away, during the long sultry hours of day, as comfortably and happily as if she was a little wren snugly curled up inside of its cosey nest. It is not mere situation which makes us happy. Some people enjoy life in cottages, others in palaces, and some birds sit in a pile of hard sticks and think themselves quite as cosey as those which repose upon the softest down.

It is almost impossible to comprehend the different fancies of birds in regard to their nests. For instance, why should any bird want to sail about in its nest? Yet there is one—called the Little Grebe—which builds a water-tight nest, in which she lays her eggs, and, while she is hatching them, she paddles herself around on the water.

It seems to me that these birds must have a very pleasant time during the setting season. To start out some fine morning, after it has had its breakfast of bugs and things, to gently push its nest from shore; to jump on board; to sit down comfortably on the eggs, and sticking out its web-footed legs on each side, to paddle away among the water-lilies and the beautiful green rushes, in company with other little grebes, all uniting business and pleasure in the same way, must be, indeed, quite charming to an appreciative duck.



If it were to happen to storm, however, when the grebe was at a distance from shore, her little craft might be upset and her cargo of eggs go to the bottom. But I expect the grebes are very good sailors, and know when to look for bad weather.

A nest full of young grebes just hatched, with the mother swimming behind, pushing them along with her beak, or towing them by the loose end of a twig, must be a very singular and interesting sight.



An Ostrich has very different views in regard to a nest from a little grebe. Instead of wishing to take its nest about with it, wherever it goes, the ostrich does not care for a great deal of nest-work.

It is, however, a bird of more domestic habits than some writers would have us believe; for although it does cover up its eggs in the sand, and then let the sun help hatch them, it is not altogether inattentive to its nest. The ostrich makes a large nest in the sand, where, it is said, the eggs of several families are deposited. These eggs are very carefully arranged in the great hole or basin that has been formed in the soft sand, and, during the daytime, they are often covered up and left to be gently heated by the rays of the sun. But the ostrich sits upon her nest at night, and in many cases the male bird has been known to sit upon the eggs all day. An ostrich nest is a sort of a wholesale establishment. There are not only a great many eggs in the nest, but dozens of them are often found lying about on the sand around it.

This apparent waste is explained by some naturalists by the statement that these scattered eggs are intended for the food of the young ones when they are hatched. This may be true; but in that case young ostriches cannot be very particular about the flavor of the eggs they eat. A few days in the hot sun of the desert would be very likely to make eggs of any kind taste rather strongly. But ostrich eggs are so large, and their shells are so thick, that they may keep better than the eggs to which we are accustomed.

From nests which are built flat on the ground, let us now go to some that are placed as high from the earth as their builders can get them. The nests of the Storks are of this kind.

A pair of storks will select, as a site for their nest, a lofty place among the rocks; the top of some old ruins; or, when domesticated, as they often are, the top of a chimney. But when there are a number of storks living together in a community, they very often settle in a grove of tall trees and build their nests on the highest branches.



In these they lay their eggs, and hatch out their young ones. Soon after the time when these young storks are able to fly, the whole community generally starts off on its winter pilgrimage to warm countries; but the old storks always return in the spring to the same nest that they left, while the young ones, if they choose to join that community at all, must make nests for themselves. Although these nests are nothing but rude structures of sticks and twigs, made apparently in the roughest manner, each pair of storks evidently thinks that there is no home like its own.

The stork is a very kind parent, and is, in fact, more careful of the welfare of its young than most birds; but it never goes to the length of surrendering its homestead to its children.

The young storks will be carefully nurtured and reared by their parents; when they grow old enough they will be taught to fly, and encouraged in the most earnest way to strengthen and develop their wings by exercise; and, in the annual expedition to the south, they are not left to themselves, but are conducted to the happy lands where all good storks spend their winters. But the young storks cannot have everything. If they wish to live in the nest in which they were born, they must wait until their parents are dead.

It may be that we have now seen enough of birds' nests, and so I will not show you any more.

The next nest which we will examine—

"But I thought you were not going to show us any more birds' nests!" you will say.

That is true. I did say so, and this next one is not a bird's nest but a fish's nest.

It is probably that very few of you, if any, ever saw a fish's nest; but there certainly are such things.



The fish which builds them is called the Stickleback. It is a little fish, but it knows how to make a good nest. The male stickleback is the builder, and when he thinks of making a nest he commences by burrowing a hole in the mud at the bottom of the stream where he lives. When with his nose and body he has made this hole large enough, he collects bits of grass, roots, and weeds, and builds his nest over this hole, which seems to be dug for the purpose of giving security to the structure. The grass and other materials are fastened to the mud and earth by means of a sticky substance, which exudes from the body of the fish, and every part of the nest is stuck together and interlaced so that it will not be disturbed by the currents. There are generally two openings to this nest, which is something like a lady's muff, although, of course, it is by no means so smooth and regular. The fish can generally stick its head out of one end, and its tail out of the other.

When the eggs have been laid in the nest, and the young sticklebacks have been born, the male fish is said to be very strict and particular in the government of his children. For some time—while they are yet very small—(and the father himself is a very little fellow) he makes them stay in the nest, and if any of them come swimming out, he drives them back again, and forces them to stay at home until they are of a proper age to swim about by themselves.

We have now seen quite a variety of nests, and I think that we may come to this conclusion about their builders:—The bird or other creature which can carefully select the materials for the home of its young, can decide what is most suitable for the rough outside and what will be soft and nice for the inner lining, and can choose a position for its nest where the peculiar wants and habits of its little ones can be best provided for, must certainly be credited with a degree of intelligence which is something more than what is generally suggested by the term instinct.



THE BOOMERANG.

Civilized folks are superior in so very many respects to their barbarous brethren that it is well, when we discover anything which a savage can do better than we can, to make a note of it, and give the subject some attention.

And it is certain that there are savages who can surpass us in one particular—they can make and throw boomerangs.

It is very possible that an American mechanic could imitate an Australian boomerang, so that few persons could tell the difference; but I do not believe that boomerang would work properly. Either in the quality of the wood, or in the seasoning, or in some particular which we would not be apt to notice, it would, in all probability, differ very much from the weapon carved out by the savage. If the American mechanic was to throw his boomerang away from him, I think it would stay away. There is no reason to believe that it would ever come back.

And yet there is nothing at all wonderful in the appearance of the real boomerang. It is simply a bent club, about two feet long, smooth on one side and slightly hollowed out on the other. No one would imagine, merely from looking at it, that it could behave in any way differently from any other piece of stick of its size and weight.

But it does behave differently, at least when an Australian savage throws it. I have never heard of an American or European who was able to make the boomerang perform the tricks for which it has become famous. Throwing this weapon is like piano-playing; you have to be brought up to it in order to do it well.

In the hands of the natives of Australia, however, the boomerang performs most wonderful feats. Sometimes the savage takes hold of it by one end, and gives it a sort of careless jerk, so that it falls on the ground at a short distance from him. As soon as it strikes the earth it bounds up into the air, turns, twists, and pitches about in every direction, knocking with great force against everything in its way. It is said that when it bounds in this way into the midst of a flock of birds, it kills and wounds great numbers of them. At other times the boomerang-thrower will hurl his weapon at an object at a great distance, and when it has struck the mark it will turn and fall at the feet of its owner, turning and twisting on its swift and crooked way. This little engraving shows how the boomerang will go around a tree and return again to the thrower. The twisted line indicates its course.

Most astonishing stories are told of the skill with which the Australians use this weapon. They will aim at birds or small animals that are hidden behind trees and rocks, and the boomerang will go around the trees and rocks and kill the game. They are the only people who can with any certainty shoot around a corner. Not only do they throw the boomerang with unerring accuracy, but with tremendous force, and when it hits a man on the head, giving him two or three terrible raps as it twists about him, it is very apt to kill him. To ward off these dangerous blows, the natives generally carry shields when they go out to fight. Sometimes an Australian throws two boomerangs at once, one with his right hand and one with his left, and then the unfortunate man that he aims at has a hard time of it.

Many persons have endeavored to explain the peculiar turning and twisting properties of the boomerang, but they have not been entirely successful, for so much depends not only on the form of the weapon, but on the skill of the thrower. But it is known that the form of the boomerang, and the fact that one of its limbs is longer and heavier than the other, gives its centre of gravity a very peculiar situation; and when the weapon is thrown by one end, it has naturally a tendency to rotate, and the manner of this rotation is determined by the peculiar impetus given it by the hand of the man who throws it.

It is well that we are able to explain the boomerang a little, for that is all we can do with it. The savage cannot explain it at all; but he can use it.

But, after all, I do not know that a boomerang would be of much service to us even if we could use it. There is only one thing that I can now think of that it would be good for. It would be a splendid to knock down chestnuts with!

Just think of a boomerang going twirling into a chestnut-tree, twisting, turning, banging, and cracking on every side, knocking down the chestnuts in a perfect shower, and then coming gently back into your hand, all ready for another throw!

It would be well worth while to go out chestnuting, if we had a boomerang to do the work for us.

* * * * *

Now our Ramblings must come to an end. We cannot walk about the world for ever, you know, no matter how pleasant it may be.

And I wish I was quite sure that you have all found these wanderings pleasant.

As for me, there were some things that I did not like so well as others, and I suppose that that was the case with all of you.

But it could not be helped. In this world some things will be better than others, do what we may.

One of these days, perhaps, we may ramble about again. Until then, good-by!

THE END.



Charles Scribner's Sons Books for Young Readers.

* * * * *

Written and Illustrated by Howard Pyle

A NEW BOOK JUST PUBLISHED.

THE STORY OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND HIS COMPANIONS

Profusely illustrated. Royal 8vo, $2.50 net.

The account of the adventures and deeds of Sir Launcelot, fully and beautifully illustrated in Mr. Pyle's characteristic style, and uniform with his other two books, "The Story of King Arthur and His Knights" and "The Story of the Champions of the Round Table." This book takes up the adventures of the greatest of the Arthurian heroes, from the very beginning, and also that of his son Sir Galahad.

"There is nobody quite like Howard Pyle, after all, when it comes to stories for children, nobody with his peculiar freshness and enthusiasm, and his power of choosing quaint and lovely settings for the sometimes quiet, sometimes stirring tales that appeal at once to his readers by their truth and naturalness."—THE SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN.

* * * * *

OTHER BOOKS BY MR. PYLE.

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THE STORY OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. Profusely illustrated. Royal 8vo, $2.50 net.

"Nothing could be better to give a boy or girl for Christmas than Mr. Pyle's rendition of these stately, ennobling old legends."—CHICAGO RECORD-HERALD.

THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD. Illustrated. Royal 8vo, $3.00.

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OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND. Illustrated. Royal 8vo, $2.00.

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* * * * *

Heroes of the Olden Time.

By JAMES BALDWIN. Three volumes, 12mo, each beautifully illustrated. Singly, $1.50; the set, $4.00.

A STORY OF THE GOLDEN AGE. Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE.

"Mr. Baldwin's book is redolent with the spirit of the Odyssey, that glorious primitive epic, fresh with the dew of the morning of time. It is an unalloyed pleasure to read his recital of the adventures of the wily Odysseus. Howard Pyle's illustrations render the spirit of the Homeric age with admirable felicity."—PROF. H.H. BOYESEN.

THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED. Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE.

"The story of 'Siegfried' is charmingly told. The author makes up the story from the various myths in a fascinating way which cannot fail to interest the reader. It is as enjoyable as any fairy tale."—HARTFORD COURANT.

THE STORY OF ROLAND. Illustrated by R.B. BIRCH.

"Mr. Baldwin has culled from a wide range of epics, French, Italian, and German, and has once more proved his aptitude as a story-teller for the young."—THE NATION.

* * * * *

The Boy's Library of Legend and Chivalry.

Edited by SIDNEY LANIER, and richly illustrated by FREDERICKS, BENSELL, and KAPPES. Four volumes, cloth, uniform binding, price per set, $7.00. Sold separately, price per volume, $2.00.

Mr. Lanier's books present to boy readers the old English classics of history and legend in an attractive form. While they are stories of action and stirring incident, they teach those lessons which manly, honest boys ought to learn.

THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR. THE BOY'S FROISSART. THE BOY'S PERCY. THE KNIGHTLY LEGENDS OF WALES.

"Amid all the strange and fanciful scenery of these stories, character and ideals of character remain at the simplest and purest. The romantic history transpires in the healthy atmosphere of the open air on the green earth beneath the open sky."—THE INDEPENDENT.

* * * * *

Stories for Boys.

By RICHARD HARDING DAVIS. With 6 full-page illustrations. 12mo, $1.00

CONTENTS: The Reporter who made himself King—Midsummer Pirates—Richard Carr's Baby, a Football Story—The Great Tri-Club Tennis Tournament—The Jump at Corey's Slip—The Van Bibber Baseball Club—The Story of a Jockey.

"It will be astonishing indeed if youths of all ages are not fascinated with these 'Stories for Boys.' Mr. Davis knows infallibly what will interest his young readers."—BOSTON BEACON.

* * * * *

Marvels of Animal Life Series.

By CHARLES F. HOLDER. Three volumes, 8vo, each profusely illustrated. Singly, $1.75; the Set, $5.00.

THE IVORY KING. A POPULAR HISTORY OF THE ELEPHANT AND ITS ALLIES.

"The author talks in a lively and pleasant way about white elephants, rogue elephants, baby elephants, trick elephants, of the elephant in war, pageantry, sports and games. A charming accession to books for young people."—CHICAGO INTERIOR.

MARVELS OF ANIMAL LIFE.

"Mr. Holder combines his description of these odd creatures with stories of his own adventures in pursuit of them in many parts of the world. These are told with much spirit, and add greatly to the fascination of the book."—WORCESTER SPY.

LIVING LIGHTS. A POPULAR ACCOUNT OF PHOSPHORESCENT ANIMALS AND VEGETABLES.

"A very curious branch of natural history is expounded in most agreeable style by this delightful book. He has revealed a world of new wonders."—PHILADELPHIA BULLETIN.

* * * * *

White Cockades.

An Incident of the "Forty-five." By EDWARD I. STEVENSON. 12mo, $1.00.

"A bright historical tale. The scene is Scotland; the time that of Prince Charles' rebellion. The hero is a certain gallant young nobleman devoted to the last of the Stuarts and his cause. The action turns mainly upon the hiding, the hunting, and the narrow escapes of Lord Geoffrey Armitage from the spies and soldiers of the King."—NEW YORK MAIL AND EXPRESS.

* * * * *

Prince Peerless.

A Fairy-Folk Story Book. By MARGARET COLLIER (Madam Gelletti Di Cadilhac). Illustrated by John Collier. 12mo, $1.25.

"More admirable and fascinating a fairy-story book we have not lately set eyes upon. The stories are most airily conceived and gracefully executed."—HARTFORD POST.

* * * * *

By William Henry Frost.

FAIRIES AND FOLK OF IRELAND. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1.50.

"Fresh and delightful materials are incorporated in witty and interesting narratives."—PHILADELPHIA PRESS.

THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. Stories of King Arthur and the Holy Grail. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1.50.

"The book is especially commended to boys, who will delight in the martial spirit breathed through the tales, and cannot fail to be benefited by reading of the courage, honor, and truth of these 'brave knights of old.'"—CHICAGO INTER-OCEAN.

THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR. Stories from the Land of the Round Table. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1.50.

"Mr. William Henry Frost in 'The Court of King Arthur' has succeeded admirably in his attempt to make the doughty knights and fair ladies of ancient days seem distinct and interesting to boys and girls of our own time."—PUBLIC OPINION.

THE WAGNER STORY BOOK. Firelight Tales of the Great Music Dramas. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1.50.

"The story of the Knight of the Swan, of the Ring of the Nibelungen, the Search for the Grail, of Lohengrin and of Parsifal, are among the richest and deepest of the great mediaeval stories. They are pre-eminently the natural food for children of imagination, and in this volume these stories are retold in a very effective way."—THE OUTLOOK.

* * * * *

Robert Grant's Two Books for Boys.

JACK HALL; or, the School Days of an American Boy. Illustrated by F. G. ATTWOOD. 12mo, $1.25.

"A better book for boys has never been written. It is pure, clean and healthy, and has throughout a vigorous action that holds the reader breathless."—BOSTON HERALD.

"A capital story for boys, wholesome and interesting. It reminds one of 'Tom Brown.'"—BOSTON TRANSCRIPT.

JACK IN THE BUSH; or, a Summer on a Salmon River. Illustrated by F.T. MERRILL. 12mo, $1.25.

"A clever book for boys. It is the story of the camp-life of a lot of boys, and is destined to please every boy reader. It is attractively illustrated."—DETROIT FREE PRESS.

"An ideal story of out-door life and genuine experiences."—BOSTON TRAVELLER.

* * * * *

Books by Kirk Munroe.

A SON OF SATSUMA; or, WITH PERRY IN JAPAN. Illustrated by RUFUS F. ZOGBAUM. 12mo, $1.00 net.

"If there is a man who understands writing a story for boys better than another, it is Kirk Munroe."—SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN.

BRETHREN OF THE COAST: A TALE OF WEST INDIAN PIRATES. Illustrated by RUFUS F. ZOGBAUM. 12mo, $1.25.

"There is enough of history and enough of action in this story to make it valuable as well as readable, and this story of adventure and description will be read with interest and profit."—HERALD AND PRESBYTER.

MIDSHIPMAN STUART; OR, THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ESSEX. A tale of 1812. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.

The story tells of the exciting adventures of an unusually plucky and enterprising American boy whose career at sea is marked with hairbreadth escapes.

IN PIRATE WATERS: A TALE OF THE AMERICAN NAVY. Illustrated by I.W. TABER. 12mo, $1.25.

The boy hero of this book assists in the extinction of this cowardly system, taking part in some of the sea fights which brought glory to the American navy.

* * * * *

The White Conqueror's Series.

Each 12mo, $1.25. The set in a box, four volumes, $5.00.

WITH CROCKETT AND BOWIE; or, Fighting for the Lone Star State. Illustrated by VICTOR S. PERARD.

"One of the most spirited and interesting tales that he has written."—NEWS AND COURIER.

THROUGH SWAMP AND GLADE. A tale of the Seminole War. Illustrated by VICTOR S. PERARD.

"No boy can get hold of this story without being carried away with it." —BOSTON COURIER.

AT WAR WITH PONTIAC; or, the Totem of the Bear. A tale of redcoat and redskin. Illustrated by J. FENNEMORE.

"The book is admirably written throughout and has not a dull page in it."—BOSTON BEACON.

THE WHITE CONQUERORS. A tale of Toltec and Aztec. Illustrated by W.S. STACEY.

"The book is filled with incident and permeated with the high color and life of the period and country."—CAMBRIDGE TRIBUNE.

* * * * *

Frank R. Stockton's Books for the Young.

"His books for boys and girls are classics."—NEWARK ADVERTISER.

THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE, AND OTHER STORIES. With 24 illustrations by BLASHFIELD, ROGERS, BEARD, and others. Square 8vo; $1.50.

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. Illustrated by PENNELL, PARSONS, and others. Sq. 8vo, $2.00.

THE STORY OF VITEAU. Illustrated by R.B. BIRCH. 12mo, $1.50.

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP. With 20 illustrations. 12mo, $1.50.

THE FLOATING PRINCE AND OTHER FAIRY TALES. Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1.50.

THE TING-A-LING TALES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00.

ROUND-ABOUT RAMBLES IN LANDS OF FACT AND FICTION. Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1.50.

TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. With nearly 200 illustrations. Square 8vo, $1.50.

"The volumes are profusely illustrated and contain the most entertaining sketches in Mr. Stockton's most entertaining manner."—CHRISTIAN UNION.

* * * * *

Edward Eggleston's Two Popular Books.

THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-BOY. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00.

"'The Hoosier School-Boy' depicts some of the characteristics of boy-life years ago on the Ohio; characteristics, however, that were not peculiar to that section. The story presents a vivid and interesting picture of the difficulties which in those days beset the path of the youth aspiring for an education."—CHICAGO INTER-OCEAN.

QUEER STORIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 12mo, $1.00.

"A very bright and attractive little volume for young readers. The stories are fresh, breezy, and healthy, with a good point to them and a good, sound American view of life and the road to success. The book abounds in good feeling and good sense, and is written in a style of homely art."—INDEPENDENT.

* * * * *

Evening Tales.

Done into English from the French of Frederic Ortoli, by JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS. 12mo, $1.00.

"It is a veritable French 'Uncle Remus' that Mr. Harris has discovered in Frederic Ortoli. The book has the genuine piquancy of Gallic wit, and will be sure to charm American children. Mr. Harris's version is delightfully written."—BOSTON BEACON.

* * * * *

Hans Brinker: Or, The Silver Skates. A Story of Life in Holland. By Mary Mapes Dodge. With 60 illustrations. 12mo, $1.50.

"The author has shown, in her former works for the young, a very rare ability to meet their wants; but she has produced nothing better than this charming tale—alive with incident and action, adorned rather than freighted with useful facts, and moral without moralization."—THE NATION.

* * * * *

The Norseland Series.

BY H.H. BOYESEN.

NORSELAND TALES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.

BOYHOOD IN NORWAY: NINE STORIES OF DEEDS OF THE SONS OF THE VIKINGS. With 8 illustrations. 12mo, $1.25

AGAINST HEAVY ODDS, AND A FEARLESS TRIO. With 13 full-page illustrations by W.L. TAYLOR. 12mo, $1.25.

THE MODERN VIKINGS: STORIES OF LIFE AND SPORT IN THE NORSELAND. With many full-page illustrations. 12mo, $1.25.

The four above volumes in a box, $5.00.

"Charmingly told stories of boy-life in the Land of the Midnight Sun, illustrated with pictures giving a capital idea of the incidents and scenes described. The tales have a delight all their own, as they tell of scenes and sports and circumstances so different from those of our American life."—N.Y. OBSERVER.

* * * * *

Two Books by Rossiter Johnson.

THE END OF A RAINBOW. AN AMERICAN STORY. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.50.

"It will be read with breathless interest. It is interesting and full of boyish experiences."—N.Y. INDEPENDENT.

PHAETON ROGERS. A NOVEL OF BOY LIFE. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.50.

"Mr. Johnson has shown in this book capabilities of a really high quality, for his story abounds with humor, and there are endless bits of quiet fun in it, which bring out the hearty laugh, even when it is read by older people. It is a capital book for boys."—NEW YORK TIMES.

* * * * *

Mrs. Burton Harrison's Tales.

BRIC-A-BRAC STORIES. With 24 illustrations by Walter Crane. 12mo, $1.50.

"When the little boy, for whose benefit the various articles of bric-a-brac in his father's drawing-room relate stories appropriate to their several native countries, exclaims at the conclusion of one of them: 'I almost think there can't be a better one than that!' the reader, of whatever age, will probably feel inclined to agree with him. Upon the whole, it is to be wished that every boy and girl might become acquainted with the contents of this book."—JULIAN HAWTHORNE.

THE OLD FASHIONED FAIRY BOOK. Illustrated by ROSINA EMMET, 16mo, $1.25.

"The little ones, who so willingly go back with us to 'Jack the Giant Killer,' 'Bluebeard,' and the kindred stories of our childhood, will gladly welcome Mrs. Burton Harrison's 'Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales.' The graceful pencil of Miss Rosina Emmet has given a pictorial interest to the book."—FRANK R. STOCKTON.

* * * * *

Thomas Nelson Page's Two Books.

AMONG THE CAMPS: OR, YOUNG PEOPLE'S STORIES OF THE WAR. With 8 full-page illustrations. Square, 8vo, $1.50.

"They are five in number, each having reference to some incident of the Civil War. A vein of mingled pathos and humor runs through them all, and greatly heightens the charm of them. It is the early experience of the author himself, doubtless, which makes his pictures of life in a Southern home during the great struggle so vivid and truthful."—THE NATION.

TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. With 8 full-page illustrations by KEMBLE and REDWOOD. Square, 8vo, $1.50.

"Mr. Page was 'raised' in Virginia, and he knows the 'darkey' of the South better than any one who writes about them. And he knows 'white folks,' too, and his stories, whether for old or young people, have the charm of sincerity and beauty and reality."—HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

* * * * *

W.O. Stoddard's Books for Boys.

DAB KINZER. A STORY OF A GROWING BOY. THE QUARTET. A SEQUEL TO DAB KINZER SALTILLO BOYS. AMONG THE LAKES. WINTER FUN.

Five volumes, 12mo, in a box, $5.00. Sold separately, each, $1.00.

"William O. Stoddard has written capital books for boys. His 'Dab Kinzer' and 'The Quartet' are among the best specimens of 'Juveniles' produced anywhere. In his latest volume, 'Winter Fun,' Mr. Stoddard gives free rein to his remarkable gift of story-telling for boys. Healthful works of this kind cannot be too freely distributed among the little men of America."—NEW YORK JOURNAL OF COMMERCE.

* * * * *

Little People

And their Homes in Meadows, Woods, and Waters. By STELLA LOUISE HOOK. Illustrated by DAN BEARD and HARRY BEARD. One volume, square 8vo, $1.50.

"A delightful excursion for the little ones into the fairy-land of nature, telling all about the little people and all in such pleasant language and such pretty illustrations that the little readers will be charmed as much as they will be instructed by the book."—NEW YORK EVANGELIST.

* * * * *

Two Books by Robert Louis Stevenson.

THE BLACK ARROW:

A Tale of the Two Roses. By R.L. STEVENSON. With 12 full-page illustrations by WILL H. LOW and ALFRED BRENNAN. 12mo, $1.25.

"The story is one of the strongest pieces of romantic writing ever done by Mr. Stevenson."—THE BOSTON TIMES.

KIDNAPPED: Being Memoirs of the Adventures of David Balfour in the Year 1751. By R.L. STEVENSON. 12mo, with 16 full-page illustrations, $1.50.

"Mr. Stevenson has never appeared to greater advantage than in 'Kidnapped.'"—THE NATION.

* * * * *

Two Books by Henry M. Stanley.

MY DARK COMPANIONS

And Their Strange Stories. With 64 illustrations. 8vo, $2.00

"The following legends," says Mr. Stanley in his introduction, "are the choicest and most curious of those that were related to me during seventeen years, and which have not been hitherto published in any of my books of travel." There are in all nineteen stories, new and striking in motive and quaint in language.

MY KALULU.

Prince, King, and Slave. A Story of Central Africa. By HENRY M. STANLEY. One volume, 12mo, new edition, with many illustrations, $1.50.

"A fresh, breezy, stirring story for youths, interesting in itself and full of information regarding life in the interior of the continent in which its scenes are laid."—NEW YORK TIMES.

"If the young reader is fond of strange adventures, he will find enough in this volume to delight him all winter, and he will be hard to please who is not charmed by its graphic pages."—BOSTON JOURNAL.

* * * * *

Jules Verne's Greatest Work.

"THE EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD."

"M. Verne's scheme in this work is to tell fully how man has made acquaintance with the world in which he lives, to combine into a single work in three volumes the wonderful stories of all the great explorers, navigators, and travelers who have sought out, one after another, the once uttermost parts of the earth."—THE NEW YORK EVENING POST.

The three volumes in a set, $7.50; singly, $2.50.

FAMOUS TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS.

With over 100 full-page illustrations, maps, etc., 8vo, $2.50.

THE GREAT NAVIGATORS OF THE XVIIITH CENTURY.

With 96 full-page illustrations and 19 maps, 8vo, $2.50.

THE GREAT EXPLORERS OF THE XIXTH CENTURY.

With over 100 full-page illustrations, facsimiles, etc., 8vo, $2.50.

Jules Verne's Stories. Uniform Illustrated Edition.

Nine volumes, 8vo, extra cloth, with over 750 full-page illustrations. Price, per set, in a box, $17.50. Sold also in separate volumes.

MICHAEL STROGOFF; or, The Courier of the Czar, $2.00. A FLOATING CITY AND THE BLOCKADE RUNNERS, $2.00. HECTOR SERVADAC, $2.00. A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH, $2.00. FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON DIRECT IN NINETY-SEVEN HOURS, TWENTY MINUTES; AND A JOURNEY AROUND IT, $2.00. DICK SANDS, $2.00. THE STEAM HOUSE, $2.00. THE GIANT RAFT, $2.00. THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND, $2.50.

* * * * *

Czar and Sultan.

The adventures of a British Lad in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. By ARCHIBALD FORBES. Illustrated. 12mo, $2.00.

"Very fascinating and graphic. Mr. Forbes is a forcible writer, and the present work has the vigor and intensity associated with his name. It is sure to be popular with youthful readers."—BOSTON BEACON.

"A brilliant and exciting narrative, and the drawings add to its interest and value."—N.Y. OBSERVER.

* * * * *

Books of Adventure by Robert Leighton.

OLAF THE GLORIOUS.

A Story of Olaf Triggvison, King of Norway, A.D. 995-1000. Crown 8vo, with numerous full-page illustrations, $1.50.

THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE.

The Story of a North Sea Fisher Boy. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.50.

THE THIRSTY SWORD.

A Story of the Norse Invasion of Scotland, 1262-65. With 8 illustrations and a map. Crown 8vo, $1.50.

THE PILOTS OF POMONA.

A Story of the Orkney Islands. With 8 illustrations and a map. Crown 8vo, $1.50.

"Mr. Leighton as a writer for boys needs no praise, as his books place him in the front rank."—NEW YORK OBSERVER.

* * * * *

Things Will Take a Turn.

By BEATRICE HARRADEN, author of "Ships that Pass in the Night." Illustrated. 12mo, $1,00.

The charm of this tale is its delicate, wistful sympathy. It is the story of a sunny-hearted child, Rosebud, who assists her grandfather in his dusty, second-hand bookshop. One cannot help being fascinated by the sweet little heroine, she is so engaging, so natural; and to love Rosebud is to love all her friends and enter sympathetically into the good fortune she brought them.

* * * * *

Among the Lawmakers.

By EDMUND ALTON. Illustrated. Sq. 8vo, $1.50.

"The book is a diverting as well as an instructive one. Mr. Alton was in his early days a page in the Senate, and he relates the doings of Congress from the point of view he then obtained. His narrative is easy and piquant, and abounds in personal anecdotes about the great men whom the pages waited on."—CHRISTIAN UNION.

THE END