It was a parrot. I heard its cry. I could see it distinctly.

"Pippity, Pippity!" I cried, "is that you?"

He gave one joyful scream, alighted on my shoulder, and then on my hand, talking as fast as his tongue could run: "How d' ye do? How d' ye do? Frank, Frank!"

"Food, food, Pippity!" I begged; and before I had finished the words he flew down the abyss, screaming as he went. I followed him with my eyes until the precipice below prevented my seeing him any longer.

It seemed to me a full hour before he re-appeared, and as he came nearer I saw something in his beak. It was a bunch of grapes. He flew toward me. I held out my hand to receive him, and with a heart full of thankfulness I took the precious fruit from his beak.

"Thank you, thank you, Pippity!" I said. But Pippity didn't wait for such little expressions of civility. Immediately, he flew away again, and soon returned with other fruits, and nuts of various kinds; and, as he could bring but little at a time, of course I could eat but little at a time, which was a happy circumstance, for that is just the way a starving man should eat.

In about four or five hours I told Pippity I had had enough.

"And now, Pippity," said I, "tell me,—how long have I been away?"

He promptly answered, "Three days!"

"Are you sure?"

"Three days—one, two, three."

I was almost sure he was right. But how the bird had found me I could not make out. I questioned him in many ways, but could get no satisfactory answer. By my not returning the day I went down into the hole, and not the next, no doubt my friends began to be alarmed for my safety, and set to work to find me, if possible. What Grilly did in the matter I could not conjecture; but Pippity, being able to fly, probably made excursions round the mountain, thinking that I might possibly come out at some place, and hoping thus to be able to find me and come to my relief.

During the afternoon, Pippity made a number of trips down into the fertile plain, every time bringing back something good to eat, whilst I rested quietly, amusing myself with looking at the pleasant scenery that everywhere surrounded me, talking with Pippity whenever he was present, and sometimes sleeping pleasantly.

A short time before sunset, Pippity took his last flight down, and, not long after the sun had disappeared, I saw him returning in the beautiful twilight. Again he brought me fruit.

"Go down to Grilly now," I said; "I will stay up here until morning, and then you come to me again."

But Pippity didn't want to leave; and I told him that as he was so desirous of keeping me company, he might remain with me through the night.

The next morning, at the first glimmering of dawn, I awoke, feeling well, hearty and cheerful. Pippity was off immediately to bring me breakfast, and about ten o'clock we set out in high spirits to make further ascent of this singular peak. All went well for about an hour, when, Pippity being absent after food, I came to a place in the rock where the walk suddenly ended. A little further on and higher up it was as good as any part I had yet gone over; but the intervening space of scarcely more than a dozen feet was very steep, and, what was remarkable, loose stones lay upon its surface as though they had slid down from above. This slide seemed to have been occasioned by a softness of the rock in that part, causing it to scale off in thin pieces, which the slightest disturbance would send rattling down the mountain. Just beyond these loose stones was a smooth surface of very steep rock, over which it would be necessary to pass in order to reach the path beyond.

I paused here; and after Pippity had brought the fruit and I had finished my dinner, I began seriously to discuss the question whether or not I ought to attempt the passage of this dangerous interval. Pippity seemed to understand my intentions quite well, for he grew very uneasy, and in his queer ways, with snatches of singularly applicable speech, he remonstrated most strenuously. But we now were not very far from the top, and so fascinating seemed the prospect of reaching the very pinnacle, that I could not withstand the impulse of making the effort to get there. Over the loose stones I scrambled, clinging with hands and feet as best I could, whilst an avalanche of rocky fragments slid, tumbled, and rattled ominously down the declivity.

I got my hands upon the smooth rock, but at my feet the loose stones were slipping rapidly away; this, in a moment more, would leave me without support and mercilessly let me follow them. But Pippity, who had been flying around me in the greatest excitement, got just above me, and planting his toes firmly against the rock, seized me by the shoulder. Then, holding on with a most determined grip of his bill, he pulled like a Trojan; and I do verily believe the bird saved my life. By dint of his pulling and backing upward, seconded by my own frantic efforts to shuffle up the rock, I succeeded in gaining the foothold beyond. At least he inspired me with fresh resolution and confidence in helping myself.

After a little rest, we went on, winding around a succession of short spirals, and at last reached the highest point of this magnificent mountain!

* * * * *

What a sensation!

Perched here on the extreme point of a pinnacle more than four thousand feet above the vast plain of rich fertility embosomed among the snow-clad mountains. The lake was a spot of beautiful blue, a gem in the center of this lovely picture.

Suddenly, we heard a rattling of stones beneath, then a shriek.

"Stars! What's that?—GRILLY!"

And up he came bounding, as lively as a cricket. He danced around us in the greatest delight, threw his arms around me, ran wildly here and there, and danced and danced again.

"Grilly, Grilly!" shrieked the parrot, "how in the world did you get up here?"—and his staid demeanor contrasted strangely with the monkey's antics.

But Grilly danced and danced. The fact was that, even if he could have spoken, he was too much excited to make reply. Grilly was great in action; in words deficient.

The afternoon was now far advanced; and Grilly at last becoming tranquil, and in keeping with the peaceful scene around us, I said to him:

"How you came up here I do not know; but of this I am certain, that you were not as long getting up as I was, for you arrived fresh and active, whilst I was almost dead. Now, that makes me think that although I cannot find the way back, you may. Therefore, you shall be guide. But it is too late to start to-day. Besides, I wish to behold another sunset from this glorious height."

The night was very pleasant; and as I lay upon a flat rock, looking out upon the stars from my high and silent perch, the round earth looming like a shadow far below me, I thought it would be delightful to make a long stay on this interesting pinnacle, especially at this time, as the weather was very fine; but the getting of food presented itself as an obstacle. As Grilly was now with us, it would be too great a tax on Pippity to supply us both. Besides, we could not do without water. I resolved, therefore, to set out early in the morning, and that I would re-enter that dungeon, as there was clearly no other way of getting down.

Before the sun was up, we already were descending; and when we arrived at the dangerous slide, where the day before I had nearly slipped off the mountain, we halted. Pippity was dispatched for food, whilst Grilly and I sat down and contemplated the sunrise splendor. Four times Pippity descended to the plain, and brought thence something to eat. Noon was fast approaching, and it behooved us, if we would accomplish anything that day, to press forward without delay. As before, Pippity showed considerable anxiety, calmly remarking, however, as I translated his jargon, that he would, as on the previous day, hold fast to my shoulder with his bill. He made Grilly get down below at the same time and hold on to my feet; and when I began to crawl and wriggle along the best way I could, I was assisted very materially by the parrot above and the monkey below.

Notwithstanding the perilous situation, I could not but be amused at the ludicrous singularity of the performance.

Above stood the sure-footed bird, all gravity, pulling away at my shoulder; below was the monkey, holding me fast by the heels, jumping and capering as the treacherous stones rolled from under him. Of course, in less than a minute the whole thing was over, and I was safely landed on a good broad walk.

We arrived at the opening of the dungeon. Descend into it? Again be lost—perhaps perish? I hesitated. I shrank from entering; and yet, down into it I must go!

"Pippity," said I, to my trusty parrot, "we will linger here another day. You must bring us all the food you can between this and night; and to-morrow morning, with the first peep of dawn, be ready to go down again, and make as many trips before noon as you can, so that we shall be able to undertake that dark and uncertain journey with at least a small quantity of provisions."

Grilly ran in and out of the dark passage quite frequently, both that evening and the next morning, evidently evincing a desire that the descent should be made without delay, which convinced me that he had come through all the darkness which yet lay between us and deliverance.

The sun had reached the zenith when I at last bade farewell to the light and resolutely determined to proceed.

"Good-bye, Pippity! We shall meet you below. Fly down, get everything ready for our reception, and have the table well supplied with the choicest fruits that you can find."

But Pippity clung to me, and would not leave. "I will go with you! I want to go!" implored the bird.

No expostulation could deter him from accompanying us.

Grilly led the way; and when we lost the light, he squealed and chattered, and frequently ran back to make sure that Pippity and I were following him. I kept close to the wall on my left. We passed over the steep place. Still I kept close to the wall. The wall was on my left—still on my left. We were going at a pretty pace, as the monkey was continually urging us forward. We could not go fast enough for him. All at once he squealed significantly. He ran back to me. He took hold of my hand, and leading me slowly forward a few paces, I found there were three diverging passages. He drew me into the middle one. Then we resumed our quick gait, and, for some little time, all appeared to be plain sailing again.

It may be asked, why did I allow myself to be guided by a thoughtless monkey? But here, in this darkness, was not reason entirely at sea? Might not instinct be superior to reason and avail something? I abandoned myself entirely to its mysterious power. I had faith in it. Grilly proceeded with such confidence that I could not but trust him.

We had been plodding our way through the darkness for about four hours, I thought, when Grilly gave a loud shriek, and, running back to us, led us hurriedly forward; light became faintly visible; we ascended a few steps through a very narrow passage; we came abruptly to a stop; the monkey grasped something that hung down from above, and sprang upward with the agility of his nature. We saw him high above our heads climbing through a square opening of light. Immediately, he was descending again.

"Why, Pippity," I cried, "we are at the bottom! Up there is our palace!"

"Of course it is!" shrieked the parrot, in a tone which sounded more like a shout of joy than the voice of a bird; and, clinging to one of a number of long grass stems that could now be distinctly seen hanging from the top, he climbed up with bill and claws as handsomely as any parrot ever did the like, crying as he went:

"Come along, Frank! We're all right!" Grilly was now down, too; and, reaching me his hand, he would fain have tried to pull me to the top. But I gave him to understand that I could very well take care of myself, and up I went by means of hands and feet—the monkey all capers, the parrot all talk, the man thankful—and when we stood in our grand old palace once more, three more thoroughly delighted creatures never were seen.

"Now, Pippity and Grilly," said I, "bring something to eat. Search our broad garden for the best. Let us eat and be merry. While the light yet glows, let us enjoy ourselves."

Away went the faithful animals. When they were gone, I walked forth and stood under the beautiful trees, surrounded by all the adorning verdure. How glad was I to be once more on the ground, once more in the world!

Presently, I saw Pippity and Grilly returning. The latter had an immense load of luscious fruit strung over his back, besides what he dragged after him in a large basket. It may well be imagined that we had a most delightful meal.

After this, I made frequent visits to the top of the pinnacle, always taking Grilly with me, Pippity, as a general thing, being content to take the short cut and meet us at the aperture above.

But before taking these trips, I made Grilly stretch a line of the long silken cords (which we found in abundance) from one end of the dark passage to the other, so that I could find my way back, if the monkey should fail me. I also used strong ropes, made of these strands, to get over the dangerous slide.

These trips afforded us an agreeable diversion. We had now, it might be said, entire command of our mountain palace—our magnificent hall below and our splendid look-out above. Months passed away in this happy abode. Sometimes we visited the distant mountains, ever exploring, ever learning, ever rejoicing; but always returning to our happy home with a renewed relish of its rare comforts and matchless advantages.

During one of the excursions to the neighboring mountains,—Pippity alone accompanying me, Grilly having gone to assemble his tribe for a fresh supply of cocoa-nuts,—we were leisurely contemplating the great expanse of loveliness that lay before us, in the center of which our noble dwelling loomed up superbly.

"What a splendid domain is ours!" I said to Pippity. "We have everything that man need wish,—and, for that matter, parrot or monkey either. How bountiful, here, is nature, and withal so beautiful! And our palace! Was ever anything in the world like it?"

As the parrot made no answer, I looked toward him, for I was certain that he would join in praise of all our precious blessings.

There was a troubled look about him. His wings moved convulsively. The feathers stood ruffling from his body. He was in a state of the greatest agitation.

I was alarmed. "What's the matter, Pippity?" I cried. But Pippity replied only with a succession of loud shrieks growing ever louder and louder.

The air had become as still as death.

My body appeared to move from side to side. No, no! The ground was rising, falling! It seemed no longer solid. Like a wave it rose and fell. The foot-hills below us separated, reft into awful chasms. I looked toward our home. Just then cried Pippity:

"Oh, our palace! Our palace!"

"Ah, ah! It falls! It falls! See, see, how the huge rocks rive and crumble!"

What a fall was there! A crash that echoed terribly in that circle of mountain wildness!

A cloud of dust rolled in fearful mockery where one moment before had stood the proud pinnacle. An enormous mass of rocks fell into the lake below, and the vapors rose in a rival cloud. High in the firmament they curled and twisted, their wreathing forms together telling a woful tale of destruction.

We forgot our own danger in watching all our grandeur dashed to nothingness.

Destruction as it was, it was grand!

But Grilly! Where was he? "Ah, Grilly, Grilly!" cried I, "I fear he is lost!"

"Come, come!" said Pippity. "Where's Grilly? Find Grilly! Quick, quick!"

But there was some rough country to get over. Gaps, masses of uprooted trees, rocks, earth and vegetation mingled in confusion.

At last we arrived at home—no, not home! Nothing but a heap of ruins!

And where was Grilly? We searched, but found him not. We called, and called again; but answer there came none.

Pippity, with a shrill and deafening cry uttered ceaselessly: "Grilly! Grilly! Grilly! Grilly!"

But answer there came none.

And all the next day we sought, and still poor Pippity cried, "Grilly! Grilly!"

But the dead, the lost, answer not.

* * * * *

A home we had no longer. Where once stood magnificence, ruin now stared us in the face.

"Pippity!" I said to poor Polly, "we will leave this once glorious spot. Our home is desolate. It is home no longer. Let us seek new scenes in other lands."

"Where shall we go?" asked Pippity—and if a parrot could shed tears he would have shed them.

"We will go to the abodes of men. We will go among civilized people."

"I, too, Frank. I, too! Call Gr——!"

"Say no more, Pippity! Strive to forget."

For seventeen days we traversed the mountains, picking up a scanty subsistence by the way. Pippity was considerably frightened by the condors that really seemed to threaten us when we reached great elevations; and I was astonished at the remains of the once stupendous works of the ancient dwellers in this land. Bridges stretching from mountain to mountain, over immense, deep valleys, attested the knowledge and power of that singular race.

Later, we began to meet people; a hut here and another there, with miles between. Pippity was quite at a loss to know what to make of such persons as we met. When two or more happened to be conversing together, it was utterly incomprehensible to him how they could understand one another.

"What jargon is this?" he evidently tried to say, "that these people are all the time jabbering? It is nothing but an unmeaning chattering of monkeys. Can it be possible that they know what they are babbling? And you understand that gibberish, too?"

I had taught Pippity no language but my own, and it was no wonder that he was surprised when he heard people so like me talking quite differently.

We soon reached the sea-coast; and if Pippity was surprised at what he saw in the towns and cities, the citizens, many of whom were familiar with the English tongue, were still more surprised at his wonderful gift of language.

My own appearance until I bought myself some decent clothes, created quite a sensation among the people I met. During my long stay in my mountain home, I had been obliged to mend and darn my garments with the fibers of plants until there was scarcely a vestige of the original fabric remaining; and I looked like a veritable scarecrow.

But I was not poor. In a little, home-made wallet, I carried a small handful of diamonds, which I had, from time to time, found in my wanderings about the Tower-Mountain. These now did me good service. I easily converted them into money, which gave me the means of living and traveling as I pleased.

We took ship, Pippity and I, and sailed away to my old home in the north. On the voyage, the gifted bird was the hero of the vessel. Ladies, gentlemen, children, and even the officers and crew of the ship, were glad to gather around him and talk to him. No such parrot had any of them seen before. I had magnificent offers made to me, if I would consent to sell him, but I refused them all, and, after awhile, Pippity himself relieved me of the duty of declining to sell him. When an offer of purchase was made, he would say, "I can't be bought!"—or, if the proposal came from a lady, "Madam, your offer is most respectfully declined!"

At last we reached my native city, and here a great misfortune happened to me.

In walking about the streets with my parrot, Pippity was constantly obliged to inhale the fumes of tobacco. He could not endure it, and frequently asked me in his own fashion why people persisted in puffing such sickening smoke from their mouths. I explained the matter to him, but he never could see any sense in it. It was known on board the ship that Pippity disliked the fumes of tobacco, and he was such a general favorite that no one smoked in his presence.

But in the city streets he met with no such consideration. He was incessantly compelled to breathe tobacco smoke, and it made him ill. In a very few days he was seized with a painful choking sensation, caused by the irritation of the smoke, and in a short time he died. His last words were:

"That detestable tobacco!"

And so I lost this good friend. I had his skin stuffed, and presented it to our society of natural history.

There were people to whom I told this story of my adventures who did not believe me, but I was always sure they would have credited my word if only I had had my monkey and my parrot with me to corroborate the truth of my strange history.

THE END.



GIFTS FOR ST. NICHOLAS [A]

BY EMMA E. BREWSTER.

Grieve not, O Santa Claus, who fills Each stocking, box and tree; Nor think, most desolate of saints, None bring good gifts to thee.

We place no candles in thy crypt, No gold upon thy shrine,— Thou bringest us the frankincense, The tapers and the wine.

But rarer gifts, good Nicholas, Than these, thy children bring, When up and down an echoing world The Christmas bells all ring.

We bring our brightest, truest love To crown thy happy brows; No monarch wears a coronet So light as holly-boughs.

We bring our gayest, fairest hopes, With smiling memories spun; So rich a robe has never shone Earth's proudest king upon.

We bring our trust, our childhood faith, And place it in thy hand; No jeweled scepter has such power To rule on sea or land.

Then stay, O dear St. Nicholas! Look on thy heaped-up shrine; Our hearts, our hopes, our memories, Our trusts, our faith are thine!

There's not in all the calendar One saint whose altars shine With such gay throngs of worshipers, Such precious gifts, as thine!

[Footnote A: An answer to "Left Out," published in the December number.]



SOME IN-DOOR GAMES AT MARBLES.

BY L.D. SNOOK.

One or two of the following games of marbles may be known to the readers of ST. NICHOLAS, but we think they all will be new to a great many boys.

THE ARCHED-BOARD COUNT-GAME.



A strip of board, half an inch thick, five inches wide, and twenty-two inches long, has notches cut in one side, two inches wide at the bottom, and tapering as shown. Short bits of board nailed upon each end keep the strip upright. Then it is placed upon the floor within two feet of the wall. Each player is provided with the same number of marbles (from three to five, or as many as the players wish), and from the opposite side of the room he rolls at the board, the object being to roll through the arches, which have numbers immediately above them in the manner shown. The one making the most counts after rolling all the marbles is entitled to one game. Or, if you have but five or six marbles, each party rolls the whole number by himself, and should there be a tie between those who make the highest aggregate number, they must roll again, the one then having the highest tally winning the game.

THREE-ARCH DISCOUNT-GAME.



This board is as wide and thick as the other, but is only eighteen inches in length. The center arch is four inches wide, the two small ones three inches each. In playing, each boy rolls from four to ten marbles each, every marble that passes under the center arch counting forty; if the marble goes through either small arch, twenty is deducted from the count, or, as the boys say, is "counted off" each time. So, if you are not a good shot, it is likely you will lose more than you will gain. In this, or the previous game, if you fail to pop your marble through any arch, it is lost.

THE TEN-BLOCK COUNT-GAME.



You are to make ten blocks of wood, each about one inch square; upon one side of each you mark the figure 0; on the other sides the numbers 10, 20, 30, 40, and 50, the 50 being upon the side opposite the 0. The blocks are placed upon the floor or carpet in the form of a half diamond, as shown. The in each case being placed upward, each player rolls four marbles singly at the blocks, the object being to hit as many of them as possible. When done, count the numbers on the upper sides of all the blocks, and replace them for the next player. It is a lively game.

SWINGING-BLOCK COUNT-GAME.



This is but a modification of the block-game just described. A common pin or tack is driven partly into one side of a block, which is connected by a string with a little strip of wood above. Instead of making side-pieces for supports, two chairs can be used, letting the strip rest upon the seat or lower rounds. Each block has the same number upon every side, and is hung so that the bottom is about one-quarter of an inch from the floor. When a marble strikes a block it swings a little and soon is quiet. This saves considerable work in replacing overturned blocks. For each block hit, tally the number upon it.

CIRCLE-GAME.



Mark upon a piece of paper three rings, the largest from eight to fifteen inches in diameter, the other two considerably smaller. Within the rings mark the numbers 10, 20, and 50, as shown. Lay this paper upon the carpet or floor, and roll your marbles, the object; being to have them stop upon the paper and as near the center as possible, each person to let his remain where they stop until all of his be rolled. Should a marble rest on a line, tally for it the number in the largest circle adjoining.



TOMMY'S THREE HORSES.



The first is a pony without any head; 'Tis a wonder, indeed, how the creature is fed.



The second, you see, is a steady old chair; Very gentle is he, and he needs little care.



And here is another—the third one, of course; But the driver's Tom's brother, and Tom's his own horse.



THE CHICKENS THAT WOULD NOT BE TAME.

In a small village there lived an old woman who kept poultry. One day this old woman went to see a little girl, who had some chickens which were so tame that they would eat corn and crumbs out of her hand.

"That's nice," said the old woman; "I shall teach my chickens to do that."

So she went home, and got some corn and some crumbs, and went out into the yard and called the chickens; but they would not come to her. They were afraid of her, because she used to shout at them, and throw sticks at them, every time they came into the garden, or near the house.



When she saw that her chickens would not eat out of her hand, this old woman was very angry, indeed.

"You bad chickens!" she said, "I'll catch you and make you eat out of my hand." So she ran after them and tried to catch them, but some ran one way and some another, and she could not lay hold of any of them.

The next day she went again to the house where the tame chickens were, and this time she saw the little girl's mother, and told her about the trouble she had, and how her chickens would not let her come near them.

"I don't see why they are not nice, gentle chickens like those your little girl has," said the old woman.

"Well," said the little girl's mother, "perhaps they would be tame if you had always treated them as well as my little girl treats her chickens. She has been kind and gentle with them ever since they came out of their shells, and they have learned not to be at all afraid of her. But I think I have seen you throwing sticks at your chickens and chasing them about the yard. If you do that, they cannot help being afraid of you, and they will never come to you and eat out of your hand."

What the little girl's mother said was very true, and if any of you have birds or animals which you wish to tame, you must always treat them so kindly that they will never have any reason to be afraid to come to you.



JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

"Thirty days has September, April, June and November; all the rest have forty-three, except February, which is leap-year every four months." I may not repeat this correctly, but I heard a little boy saying something of the kind. Perhaps you all know the jingle better than I do, so I'll say no more about it.

NATURE'S PADDLE-BOATS.

A little bird has told me such a strange thing! It's about a kind of jelly-fish which he called a "Globe-Beroe," I think; but you can find out for yourselves, if I caught the name aright or not.

This jelly-fish looks like a tiny ball of the clearest ice. All around it, much after the fashion of the lines of longitude on a geographical globe, are eight bands a little less transparent than the rest of the body. On each of these are thirty or forty small paddles, in shape like the floats upon the paddle-wheels of a steamboat; and it is by means of these that the little creature pushes itself along in the water. The paddles are alive, and move either swiftly or slowly, one at a time or all together.

Not only can this natural paddle-boat send itself along, but it can also cast anchor. It puts forth very fine threads, which gradually lengthen, unfolding from their sides transparent tendrils like those of a vine. These catch hold of and twine around some fixed thing, and moor the craft; and when the Beroe is about to be roving again, they unwind themselves, and all slip quietly back into the little ice-ball out of sight.

There are countless millions of Beroes in the Arctic regions, where the sea is in some parts colored by them for miles and miles. If there were not such immense fleets of these tiny paddle-boats there would be little chance for us to wonder at them, because they choose for their moorings just the places where whales love best to feed and play their rough games, and where, too, their own presence in the sea makes it into a kind of soup of which whales are very fond.

TINY TREES.

Only think of trees, full-grown trees, so small that several of them,—roots, stems, branches and all,—piled one above another, would not be as tall as I am!

What kind of birds would stoop to roost in such little, little trees, I'd like to know?

They tell me that such tree-lings do really grow, away up, on high mountains, near where the snow stays all the year through, and also in very cold countries near the polar circles.

I do hope the words "polar circles" will bring clear ideas to you, my dears. They've quite tangled up my notions. Wont some of you explain the things to me?

BIRDS AND TELEGRAPH-WIRES.

The Little Schoolma'am has been talking about snow-birds, and she says there was a poem about them in ST. NICHOLAS for April, 1875, and also a picture of the dear little fellows comfortably perched on a telegraph-wire, out in Colorado, somewhere. I dare say you'll remember them, my chicks.

Well, she went on to say that telegraph-wires are not always such good friends to birds, for she had heard that, along the great railroads in the West, large numbers of prairie-chickens are killed at certain seasons of the year by flying against the wires. Sometimes this may happen in the dark, but more often in the day-time when the wind is very strong.

Of course, this can't very well be helped; but it does seem dreadful, doesn't it, my dears? However, the section-men, who have charge of the railroad tracks, get some good from it, for they make a regular business of gathering the fallen birds, which are then cooked and eaten.

WALTON'S KITTY AGAIN.

Dear Jack: A while ago I told in ST. NICHOLAS something about "Walton's Kitty," that loves music and climbs upon any one who sings to her, putting her head as close as can be to the lips of the singer. Now, here is another true story about this same cat:

In the summer, Walton's aunt used to set the milk in a cool closet, in a pitcher with a long, narrow neck, but day after day, when teatime came, every drop of that milk was gone. Nobody drank it, nobody used it, nobody spilled it. "Walton's Kitty" and all her descendants were clear of suspicion, because of the long, narrow neck of that pitcher. So everybody watched and waited to find out how the milk went.

And this is what they saw: There sat "Walton's Kitty," dipping her paw deep down into the pitcher, taking it out, and then lapping the milk from it! If she dropped the smallest drop, she stopped and cleaned that up, and then went on. As the milk dwindled to the bottom of the pitcher she shook her paw around; and she never left off until every drop of milk was gone!

Since then, the milk for tea stands in a covered pitcher, but "Walton's Kitty" has hers in a tall, narrow goblet. It is a very affecting sight, and people laugh till they cry as they watch her.—Yours truly,

M.B.C.S.

FLINT ONCE WAS SPONGE.

You never would think it, would you, my dears? But the Little Schoolma'am says that it was; and she always is right.

She says that flint really is nothing more nor less than sponge turned to stone. Once the sponge grew at the bottom of the sea, as other sponges grow now; but that was ages and ages ago, and since then the sponge, turned to flint, has lain covered by rocks and earth of many kinds piled thick above it. Seen with a microscope, flint shows the make of sponge in its fibers; and sometimes you can see, bedded in it, the shells of the tiny creatures on which the sponge had fed. Now and then, inside a flint, will be found bits of the sponge not yet changed.

That last proof settles it; but I must say it's hard to believe;—hard as the flint, almost.

SOME OLD PUZZLES.

Here are two letters, with old puzzles in them, that may amuse you for a while on one of these shivery evenings, my chicks. I'll tell you the answers next month.

Michigan.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: The other night one of my brothers said he did not believe we could pronounce a certain word after he should have spelled it. I will tell you what it is, though you may have heard about it already:

A cross, a circle complete, An upright where two semi-circles do meet, A triangle standing upon two feet, Two semi-circles, a circle complete.

Yours truly, CORA.

Oswego, N.Y.

DEAR JACK: I send you a riddle which I found. I take ST. NICHOLAS and like it very much. I have all of the volumes from 1874.

I am a word of plural number, A foe to peace and human slumber, Yet, do but add the letter S,— Lo! what a metamorphosis! What plural was, is plural now no more, And sweet's what bitter was before.

Yours truly, KITTIE.

Talking about riddles, reminds me of one that was made by Richard Whately, an archbishop of Dublin, as I've heard. This is it:

"When from the Ark's capacious round The beasts came forth in pairs, Who was the first to hear the sound Of boots upon the stairs?"

I'm told that it never has been guessed right by anybody; yet the archbishop said there was an answer, although he did not say what it was. May be you can solve the riddle, my dears, if you brush up your wits a bit? Let me know as soon as you think you have the right answer.

THE NEWEST FASHION.

The girls of the Red School-house often talk about new fashions, especially when the Little Schoolma'am is about, for she is pretty sure to drop some useful hints. Well, one day she told them, among other things, about the "latest novelty" in ladies' ball-dresses at Upernavik, in Greenland.

As nearly as I can remember, she said that the costume consists of a little jacket, made of bright-colored calico or flannel; long pantaloons of sealskin, trimmed like the jacket and sitting close to the figure; and white, red or blue boots: the whole set off by gay ribbons and all the beads the wearer can get.

A jaunty suit enough, no doubt; but, if she wore only that, the wearer must have been obliged to dance, merely to keep herself warm.

By the way, I wonder what ever possessed them to call that frozen country Green-land?

TO SURPRISE A DOG.

This is the way a man among the Himalaya Mountains once astonished a stranger dog. He put on a pair of huge goggles and walked steadily and quietly toward the dog, without speaking a word. The dog bristled up and stared hard for a moment, and then, all at once, he seemed to wilt, and away he slunk as if ashamed of himself.

I heard about this only the other day, my dears, and I tell it to you merely to warn you not to try the little trick, unless you are sure your dog will not get angry and jump for you.

It would not look well for you to slink off as if you were ashamed of yourself.

THE KINDERGARTEN AT HOME.

DEAR JACK: Will you please tell your older boys and girls that in good systems of Kindergarten teaching they will find a great many means of amusing invalid brothers or sisters without wearying them, and many games and much fun for the younger ones, who will learn at the same time things that they ought to know. To carry out these methods one wants sticks, blocks, slates, slats, colored balls, and other things easy to make and cheap to buy, the use of which is pleasant to teach as well as to learn and practice.

I bought lately a full set of Kindergarten apparatus such as I have named, and sent it to a little niece of mine in California, and the dear little one writes to me that she has had much happiness and enjoyment out of it. I hope some of your young friends will try the experiment and let me know what success they have.—I am, dear Jack, yours affectionately, A LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM.

KAFFIR IRONING.

You all know how ironing is done here—with flat-irons, I think somebody said. Well, the birds tell me that the Kaffirs of South Africa don't use flat-irons, but have quite another way. They make the clothes into a neat flat package, which they lay on a big stone. Then they just dance on the package until they think the clothes are smooth enough! It must be good fun to them! Luckily, Kaffirs don't wear cuffs and frills.

SLIPPERS FOR HORSES.

Where do horses wear slippers?

Now, my chicks, this is not a conundrum. So you need not be chirping out, "On their feet, of course;" or some foolish answer of that kind. The real answer is, "Japan,"—at least, so I'm told, and there are such numbers of other queer things there, that I don't wonder it is so.

Well, Japanese horses wear straw slippers,—clumsy-looking things, I should say. But, besides that, they stand in their stables with their heads where American horses' tails would be! Perhaps Japanese horses like to see for themselves what is going on?

"Where is the food put?"

Why, in a bucket hung from the roof, of course. Where else, would you suppose?



THE LETTER-BOX.

Fair Haven, Vt. 1877.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Two of my sisters and myself have taken your magazine ever since it was published, and like it very much. I am glad Miss Louisa M. Alcott is writing a story for your magazine, as I am very fond of her stories.

I have read, "Eight Cousins," "Rose in Bloom," "Little Men," "Hospital Sketches," "Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag," and "Little Women," myself, have been called "Meg, Amy, Beth and Jo." My oldest sister Ada, who is sixteen years old, is the "Amy" of our family; My little sister Stella, who is eleven years old, is well skilled in music, and we think she is very much like "Beth"; and I am thirteen, and have been called "Jo."

So, you see, I was greatly interested in "Little Women," as I could appreciate it so well; and it seemed to me as if Miss Alcott must have seen us four girls before she wrote the story.

I have four first cousins, and they are all boys, and with my sisters and me we are "eight cousins." One of my cousins is a little baby, a little over five weeks old. He makes the eighth cousin.

I liked the piece about Miss Alcott in the December number very much. We expect to take your magazine until we are young women. I think it the best published for young people.—Your friend,

ANNIE ADAMS.

* * * * *

By letters just received from England, we learn that the pretty Christmas and New-Year cards in our December and January issues were not drawn by Miss Greenaway, though a friend had mistakenly sent them to us last summer as specimens of that lady's work, cut from a scrapbook. We, therefore, hasten to correct the error, wishing at the same time, that we knew to whose hand to credit the drawings. To our still greater regret, we now learn that Marcus Ward & Co., of London, having published these as Christmas cards, and counted upon having a large sale for them in America. Had we known this in time, we certainly should not have copied the pictures without previously referring to the publishers. The best reparation we can make at the present date is this acknowledgement and a bit of honest advice to our readers: Hunt the shops for the beautifully colored cards from which these pictures were copied, and buy them for next Christmas. They are far better than our printed ones.

* * * * *

Brooklyn, N.Y.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old and very fond of reading, and as I never can find an interesting book of history, I read stories. But mamma and other people tell me I ought to read something instructive, but as I never can find anything I like, I would be much obliged if you would help me a little by giving me a list of pleasant books. I have taken you for three years and enjoy you very much indeed.—Your very affectionate reader,

ALICE CLINTON.

"Greene's Shorter History of the English People," a new work, is very interesting. H.M.D. in the "Letter-Box," October, 1876, says that "The Life and Times of Sir Philip Sidney" is such a pleasant book that you cannot help having a good time when you are reading it, and will not think it is history unless you know beforehand. "Seven Historic Ages," by Arthur Gilman, is another attractive book, and if you are like most smart girls of your age, you will find Prescott's "Ferdinand and Isabella" as interesting as many story books. It is a history of Spain in its most prosperous times. It is long, but, once begun, few find it hard to finish.

* * * * *

Geneva, N.Y.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please tell "Jack" that apples that are part sour and part sweet grow in the beautiful State of New York. I have tasted of such fruit and am sure it is so. Who can tell me more about this wonderful fruit? And how many have ever eaten such apples?

Can any one tell me what causes them to grow one side sweet, and the other sour? Hoping to hear more on this subject, I remain, yours truly,

ALMA AYLESWORTH.

* * * * *

Mobile, Ala.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish to tell you of Fanny, our little mule, who cannot be forced to work on Sunday. She is gentle, obedient and faithful on week days, but on Sunday Fanny will not be made to move.

Don't think us heathen, dear ST. NICHOLAS, for the boys just tried to make her carry a load of hay as a test, and to tease her, also; but when papa saw what they were up to, he put a stop to it, and now Fanny enjoys her Sundays in peace. My little sister says, "she is a religious mule." Do you think that the mule really knows when Sunday has come?—Your well-wisher,

ERNESTINE HAMMOND.

* * * * *

KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

(Jack-in-the-Pulpit's Story in the December Number, Straightened Out.)

King Alfred the Great, having been driven by the Danes to seek safety in flight, disguised himself as a peasant, and took refuge in the hut of a cow-herd, where he was told to watch the baking of some cakes. But he forgot the cakes and let them burn; and when the herdsman's wife came in, she gave him a sound scolding for his carelessness.

Charles I. of England was defeated at Marston Moor; and his son, Charles II., after losing the battle of Worcester, barely escaped capture, by hiding in the leafy branches of an oak-tree.

Robert Bruce lost many battles, fighting for the Scottish throne. At length, he lay down disheartened on a heap of straw in an old hut. While he was thinking over his troubles, he saw a spider trying to get from one rafter to another. It failed many times, but at last succeeded, and Bruce, taking courage at the insect's example, went on fighting until he had secured his kingdom.

Sir Isaac Newton had on his table a pile of papers upon which were written calculations that had taken him twenty years to make. One evening, he left the room for a few minutes, and when he came back he found that his little dog "Diamond" had overturned a candle and set fire to the precious papers, of which nothing was left but a heap of ashes. It was then that he cried, "Oh, Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest what mischief thou hast done!"

It is said that George Washington, when a boy, destroyed his father's favorite cherry-tree, and, being asked about it, replied: "I cannot tell a lie; I did it with my little hatchet."

Oliver Cromwell, when dispersing Parliament, saw the Speaker's mace upon the table, and, pointing to it, said, "Take away that bauble!"

Just after Lord Nelson's great naval victory off Cape Trafalgar, as he was dying from a wound received in the battle, he kept repeating the words, "Thank Heaven, I have done my duty!"

Prince William, son of Henry II. of England, was drowned on his way home from France. The king was so affected by his loss that "he never smiled again."

[Fannie P. sends a complete and correct version. Willie H. Paul and Bertha Paul straightened out all of the story except the part about Lord Nelson. The versions sent by E.J. Smith, Charlie W. Jerome, Lulu Way, and John N.L. Pierson, were correct, as far as they went, but they explained only the parts that referred to King Alfred himself.]

* * * * *

Here is a little story sent to ST. NICHOLAS as a companion to "The Story that Wouldn't be Told," in the November number:

THE STORY NOBODY KNEW.

Once there was a little story that nobody knew, and nobody could tell it, because nobody knew it, and yet this little story wanted dearly to be told. It used to wait about where people were telling stories, and when a story was ended and the merry laugh went round, it would say to itself, "Now they will certainly tell me," but they never did. So at last this little story got quite low-spirited and wandered off by itself out of the house, and through the garden into the orchard, and there in the orchard, under an apple-tree, there was a little girl lying fast asleep among the buttercups and daisies. The little story looked all around to see that no one else was there, and then it cuddled down beside the sleeping child and whispered itself into her ear. It was so exciting, so charming, that the little girl awoke, and thought she had dreamed it all, and ran to tell her mother the beautiful dream. When she saw her mother, she cried out, "Mother! mother!" and was just about to tell the little story, when suddenly she forgot it all, and now the little story can never be told, but it still comes to good children in their dreams.

* * * * *

A little girl, eleven years old, sends these verses of her own composition to the "Letter-Box":

VALENTINE.

I am a little Cupid, And I come to visit thee, To tell you that I love you, And to know if you love me.

And if you'll be my little wife, And come along with me, I'll take you to a lovely place, And pretty flowers you'll see.

And when you have been there a day, You'll be a little Cupid, With no hard lesson-books to learn, That are so dull and stupid.

But, if you will not come and be My pretty little wife, You'll go straight back to school again, With lessons all your life.

K. UNIACKE.

* * * * *

Two Rivers, Wis.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am not quite ten years old, but I am one of your oldest subscribers. We have every number from the very first. I have a brother Fred, two years older than I. We have always lived on the shores of Lake Michigan.

During the summer months, the steamer comes in from Chicago every morning. Fred and I like to get up early in the morning, and go down to the beach, before breakfast, to see the steamer go out; and, afterward, the morning train, for the station is near the beach. It is lovely down there early in the morning; we dig wells, sail boats, and wade out after the waves that chase us back again.

We love the lake, and spend many happy hours down there. But sometimes it's a very wicked lake. Three weeks ago it blew very hard all night, and in the morning the waves were rolling up like mountains, and near the harbor pier there lay a wreck. Although they were so close to the town, and several other vessels were lying at anchor near, no one had heard, or seen, or knew anything about how it happened. It proved to be the "Magellan," of St. Catherine's, Ont. Since then nine bodies have washed ashore, among them the captain and his brother, the mate, both of them fine-looking young men, and not like ordinary rough sailors. The captain was a Knight Templar, and the Masons took charge of the body and sent it home, and some ladies made a beautiful cross of natural flowers, which they laid on his breast. But I will leave this sad subject, and tell you how we appreciate ST. NICHOLAS.

Last week we had a concert. There were several recitations from ST. NICHOLAS, besides the "Mother Goose Operetta" in the January number (1877). It was very pretty. There were fifteen children, all in handsome peasant costumes. I was Marie.

Last summer, when we came from the Centennial, in our Pullman car were two boys just Fred's age; one was from San Francisco and one from Chicago. Of course, the three were soon well acquainted, and had lots of fun together. And what do you think? They soon found out that each was a subscriber to ST. NICHOLAS! And how they enjoyed talking over the stories together! "Fast Friends" seemed to be the favorite; but I like "Eight Cousins" better.—Respectfully yours,

NETTIE CONINE.

* * * * *

Paulsboro, N.J., 1877.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I had pigeons at the Woodbury Fair both this year and last, and took the first premiums for best display: another little fellow, about my age, had four when I had six, and had eight when I had nine; how many had I better take next year? You are interested in this question, for the two dollars premium helps pay for my ST. NICHOLAS, and I don't want to be without that. I take the "Scattered Seeds," but like ST. NICHOLAS better. Please stop sending my magazine to Wm. E. Grant. I am no relation to General Grant, but am a Democrat, and for General McClellan. I am nine years of age.—Your constant reader,

WILLIE E. GAUNT.

You have done so well already, Willie, that we think you can best answer your own question; but we should take all of our best pigeons.

* * * * *

New York.

Will ST. NICHOLAS please tell "Sidonie" if the "trade dollar" is made entirely of silver?

It is not. There are 900 parts of pure silver and 100 parts of copper in the "trade dollar." The copper alloy is added to make the coin hard, so that it will wear well, as silver by itself would be too soft.

* * * * *

Chicago, Ill.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I, for one, think it is all nonsense about those "that" sentences. Anybody can put more than eight "thats" in a sentence; but if he, she, or it, can parse them, I would like to have them do it. I don't believe it can be done. Let them parse the sentence in the August number, for instance; and, if they can put in twelve "thats" and then parse them, why, then, and not till then, will I believe it. Please put this in the Letter-Box, and oblige.

C.P.S.

* * * * *

Louisville, Ky.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thank you very much for the many beautiful designs which you have given for Christmas presents, and for the pictures and silhouettes which you have published, from which we have copied in tableaux vivants and shadow pantomimes. We had "The Modern and Mediaeval Ballad of Mary Jane" (published in January, 1877) in our church entertainment, and it "took" immensely. "The Stalwart Benjamin" and "Lord Mortimer" were cut from pasteboard, and fastened up by wires, and, of course, no one knew that they were not people. The "Ballad" was read behind the scenes.—Truly yours,

KITTY B. WHIPPLE.

* * * * *

Boston.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Papa has bought me every number of the ST. NICHOLAS you have ever published, and as I have seen several letters asking you about different things, I thought I would ask you about something I do not understand. If it is not really known who wrote the plays "Titus Andronicus" and "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," what circumstances lead people to think Shakspeare wrote them?

I have enjoyed you extremely, and as the Little Schoolma'am seems always to answer such questions, I write to you hoping you will ask her.—I am your fond admirer,

ETHEL DAVIS.

The Little Schoolma'am says it is not absolutely certain who wrote the plays you name, but this is about the way the matter stands:

The play "Titus Andronicus" is not now believed to have been originally written by Shakspeare. It is considered too horrible and repulsive to be his work. However, it may have been brought to him to be retouched and made ready for the stage. Hence is it, perhaps, that some passages of his are found in it.

"Pericles," as well as "Timon of Athens," is believed to have been the work of some other writer, afterward completed and partially altered by Shakspeare. It is thought that most of the last three acts of "Pericles" are Shakspeare's, though some of their prose scenes and all the choruses are by another hand.



NEW PUBLICATIONS.

ALL AROUND A PALETTE is a delightful book for boys and girls, especially for those who love good pictures and odd and sprightly stories with something in them besides the fun and sparkle. Mr. J. Wells Champney has put a picture or a sketch wherever there was a chance, and Mrs. Lizzie W. Champney has made the stories very bright, sweet and interesting. The book is published by Messrs. Lockwood, Brooks & Co., Boston, and is one of the "Children's Art Series."

Messrs. Porter & Coates, of Philadelphia, send us THE BOY TRADERS, by Harry Castlemon, a brisk story of adventure on the sea, in the Sandwich Islands and among the Boers. There are several striking pictures.

A YORK AND A LANCASTER ROSE, by Anne Kearney, author of "Castle Daly," "Oldbury," etc.; published by Macmillan & Co., New York. This book is by an English author, and is a charming picture of family life, which will interest girls of thirteen and fifteen years of age. The story is of two girls, each named Rose, the one rich and the other poor; and tells how they were brought together, and the influence they exercised upon each other, and relates, in a very pleasant way, the various adventures, sayings, and doings of their brothers and sisters.

THE CUCKOO CLOCK, by Ennis Graham, author of "Carrots" and "Tell me a Story"; published by Macmillan & Co. This volume is well illustrated by Walter Crane. The cuckoo in an old clock makes friends with a lonely little girl, and causes her to have a good time, and to see many wonderful things. One of the prettiest parts of the story is the account of the making of the clock in the German home of the little girl's grandmother.

SLICES OF MOTHER GOOSE, SERVED WITH SAUCE BY "CHAMP," is the title of a set of large cards, admirably printed in black and red, and giving new funny versions of Mother Goose rhymes, by Alice Parkman, illustrated with capital pictures and silhouettes by Mr. Champney. Messrs. Lockwood, Brooks & Co., of Boston, are the publishers.

SIX SINNERS, by Campbell Wheaton, has to do chiefly with one of the six dear little "sinners," Dora Maynard, whom girl readers will love right off. It tells all about her school-days, her pranks and fun, her troubles and how they were overcome, and tells it in a way so lively and absorbing that you will want to read all of it at one sitting. The book is clearly printed in large type, and is published by Messrs. Putnam, New York.



THE RIDDLE-BOX

EASY DOUBLE CROSS-WORD ACROSTIC.

The initials and finals, read downward, form the names of two kinds of trees.

1. The width of a vessel. 2. A mountain of Crete. 3. A Tom-boy. 4. An inclosure. 5. To harbor.

WILLIE PETTINOS.

SQUARE-WORD.

1. A governor. 2. To join. 3. Flexible. 4. A girl's name. 5. Quick dances.

L.

NUMERICAL PUZZLE.

I am a word of five letters, the sum of which is 512.

My 1 x my 3 = 1/20 of my 5; My 2 x my 4 = 1/5 of my 3; My 5 / my 1 = my 3 x 20.

SEDGWICK.

HIDDEN ACROSTIC.

At the top of a mountain, Within a clear light; In the midst of a fountain, At edge of the night; In field and in meadow, In sunshine and shadow, On land and on sea, At the end of the earth, Or in air, we may be.

Now put us together, And, if you guess right, You'll discover a water-fall Sparkling and bright.

W.P.D.

EASY DECAPITATIONS.

1. Behead a kind of sword, and leave a fluid for burning. 2. Behead a sharp-pointed weapon, and leave a fruit. 3. Behead to touch, and leave a kind of fish. 4. Behead a vehicle used in winter, and leave a shelf 5. Behead a kind of deer, and leave a game that boys play. 6. Behead an ancient war implement, and leave a unit. 7. Behead animals of a common kind, and leave a sort of grain. 8. Behead to pull, and leave sore. 9. Behead the name of a vessel, and leave a narrow passage.

WALTER A.

TRANSPOSITIONS.

1. Change artful into a confusion. 2. Change a Persian king into a mixture. 3. Change a cutter into listeners. 4. Change a cheat into musicians. 5. Change repaired into healed. 6. Change a drink into a class embracing many species.

CYRIL DEANE.

CHARADE.

In war, and in council, my first oft appears. My second is that which my first often wears. Very strong is my last; 'tis a bark, not a bite; That from which it is taken is solid, not light. Three joined in one, if my whole you should find, An island well known it would bring to your mind.

M.D.

GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE.

(Composed by Mary V. and Willie K., each aged thirteen.)

An island west of British Columbia (1) went to the lightest city (2) in the world to attend a ball. She there met a peak in Oregon (3) named as follows: A city in Egypt (4), a city in Maine (5), and a city in Australia (6), in whom she was much interested.

Her dress was a valley among the Himalaya Mountains (7), and though elegantly trimmed with a city in Belgium (8), it was, unfortunately, two cities in France (9). As she felt a country in South America (10), she wore around her shoulders a city in Scotland (11) shawl. Her jewelry was exclusively a peak in Oregon (12). Her shoes were of a country in Africa (13), and her handkerchief was perfumed with a city in Prussia (14).

Being a lake north of the United States (15) dancer, she had distinguished partners, whose names were the capital of the United States (16), the capital of Ohio (17), the capital of Wisconsin (18), the capital of Alabama (19), the capital of Mississippi (20), and the capital of North Carolina (21).

Having boldly said that she was a country in Europe (22), she was escorted by a city in Indiana (23) to a bay in South-west Africa (24), where she freely partook of a river in Oregon (25), some islands in the Pacific Ocean (26), a river in South Africa (27), a district in France (28), and some islands in the Atlantic (29). After passing a river of Maine evening (30), she bade a cape in Iceland (31) to her hostess, and was escorted home by an island in Nova Scotia (32).

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

My 1 2 3 4 is undoubtedly possessed by every one of the whole race of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 (my whole), while my 5 6 7 8 ends a prayer.

C.D.

ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE.



Twelve things may be found in the picture above, Not clearly perceived by the eye, But with keen observation and witty conceit, You will find them, I know, if you try.

First point out (1) an animal (other than bear), (2) A spectator, (3) a portion of corn, (4) One part of a sentence, and (5) parts of a bird, And (6) what may your fair head adorn.

Now (7) part of a river, and (8) parts of a book, And now, if you please, take the trouble To pick out (9, 10) two letters, which, rightly combined, In classical language mean "double."

The remaining two things in the picture above, To which I would call your attention, Are (11) part of a carriage or part of a boy, And (12) a sort of a stop or suspension.

AUNT SUE.

CURTAILMENTS.

1. Curtail a bur, and leave to plague; curtail again, and leave plants. 2. Curtail a celestial body, and leave to make smooth; again, and leave a model. 3. Curtail a low, wet ground, and leave a planet; again, and leave to injure; again, and leave a parent. 4. Curtail a jury-roll, and leave a glass; again, and leave part of a gun-lock; again, and leave a parent.

CYRIL DEANE.

COMPLETE DIAGONAL.

Diagonals from left to right, downward: 1. Fifty. 2. A boy's nickname. 3. A title of respect. 4. To affirm. 5. Ardent. 6. A vale. 7. A rule of action. 8. A river in Italy. 9. Phonetically, a measure.

Horizontally: 1. Used by painters. 2. An Israelitish king. 3. A name for beer. 4. More dim. 5. To reduce.

N.T.M.

EASY NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I am composed of twelve letters. My 2 11 3 is a fish. My 1 4 3 2 5 is a girl's name. My 7 3 8 10 5 is an American politician. My 12 8 6 1 is pretty for a child's wear. My 9 8 12 10 5 is a necessary domestic utensil. My 4 8 6 2 is very pleasant. My whole is the title of a popular book.

D.C.R.

SQUARE-WORD.

1. An emperor's title. 2. Nothing. 3. Weapons. 4. A flower.

B.

ANAGRAM DOUBLE DIAMOND AND CONCEALED DOUBLE SQUARE.

From the sentence "Seer eats a pear" form a double diamond, the center of which will be a double word-square.

CYRIL DEANE.

PICTORIAL PROVERB PUZZLE.

The answer is a well-known couplet.



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN JANUARY NUMBER.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.—Initials, Russia; finals, Turkey; across,

R—a——Y U—nit—E S—ac—-K S—uga—R I—O——U A—n——T

HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.—Diagonals, hones, sends; central, inner; horizontals,

H A I L S O N E N D E E S O R E S

DECAPITATIONS.—Acorn, corn; brook, rook; drake, rake; flute, lute; pearl, earl; plane, lane; wheel, heel; spine, pine; trout, rout; prune, rune.

DIAGONAL PUZZLE.—Diagonal, January; horizontals, Jollity, sAdness, kiNdles, ensUing, compAny, appeaRs, holidaY.

DOUBLE PUZZLE.—Central Syncopations: Rabid, raid; stair, stir; haste, hate; steep, step; Tiber, tier; grain, grin; holes, hoes; tiles, ties. The syncopated letters, B, A, S, E, B, A, L, L, form the answer to the Cross-word Enigma.

GEOGRAPHICAL TRANSPOSITIONS.—I held, Delhi; panels, Naples; I turn, Turin; pains, Spain; pure, Peru; erect, Crete; more, Rome.

OMNIBUS WORD.—Crate:

I. Hour-Glass Puzzle.—Central, re-act: horizontals, caret, tea, a, act, cater.

II. Square-Word.—Ace, car, era.

III. Prefix Puzzle.—At, cat; are, tare; art, cart; ear, tear.

IV. Another Prefix Puzzle.—Ace, race, trace; ate, rate, crate.

ACCIDENTAL HIDINGS.—Esther, molEST HER; Theresa, THERE SAt; Ada, A DAmsel; Nora, NO RAy; Ernesta, stERNEST Age.

PERSPECTIVE CROSS PUZZLE.—Horizontals: 1, Grand; 2, plate; 3, ditch; 4, event; 5, prism; 6, eel; 7, great; 8, court; 9, terse. Perpendiculars: 10, Glove; 11, dread; 12, yet; 13, prove; 14, harem; 15, plant; 16, telegmatic; 17, preferment; 18, governable. Diagonals: 19, dry; 20, hop; 21, met; 22, peg; 23, toe; 24, cot; 25, Eve.

EASY SQUARE-WORD.—Dial, inca, acid, lade.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.—Forest all, forestall.

FRAME PUZZLE.—Stock-dove, broom-corn, anonymous, inodorous.

CHARADE.—Cat.

WORDS ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED.—Pot-a-toe, potato; Mo-lasses, molasses; whisky; guinea-pig; false-hood, falsehood; toe-martyrs, tomatoes; pike-rust, pie crust; captive-atin', captivating; barber-us, barbarous; turn-pike; butter; IV, ivy.

PICTORIAL CHRISTMAS PUZZLE.—At Christmas play and make good cheer.



ANSWERS TO THE CHESS PUZZLE in the December number were received, before December 18, from "Frederica," P. Hill, J.E.N. James T. White, Laura Randolph, S.J.B., "Bessie and her Cousin," Alice Mason, and M.W. Collet.

ANSWERS TO THE MAGIC DOMINO-SQUARE PUZZLE in the December number were received, before December 18, from Alice Louise, William Lewis Lockwood, James Buckelew, Howard G. Myers, Jas. Forsyth, E.C. Rowse, Bertie Pierson, Walter Sanger, Kenneth Hartley, Hattie Coons, Margaret B. Dodge, Alice Downing, Anna A. Hays, Emma A. Gill, "Georgie," D.C. Robertson, Willie T. Sheffield, Samuel Herbert Fisher, George D. Mitchell, Carrie Welles, G.L., Emma Elliott, K.C.R., A.H., John Hancock, Jr., Harry Hartshorn, Carrie Doane, Carrie Heller, Eddie F. Worcester, H.S., Fred B. Appleget, "Three of Them" (?), C. Kittinger, "Bessie and her Cousin," and P. Hill, whose criticism we find just.

Helen L. Gilbert sends the solution of a puzzle in which 18 (not 16) is the sum of the dots in each row of half-dominoes.

ANSWERS TO OTHER PUZZLES in the December number were received, before December 18, from Charles Lothrop, R.T. McKeever, Arthur C. Smith, Lulu Way, James J. Ormsbee, Fannie Runnels, G.L., "Jennie," Bancel La Farge, Nellie Kellogg, Allie Bertram, L. Giraud, Alice N. Bailey, Josephine Seibert, "Frederica," P. Hill, B.P. Emery, "Bessie and her Cousin," A.G. Cameron, "Lizzie and Anna," Fred S. Pickett, Gracie S. Cook, Leonice Barnes, John Edward Hill, Carrie Heller, Bessie L. Barnes, Helen E. Risteen, "Blotterer and Blunderer," T.W. Siddall, Alice Mason, Fred M. Pease, Nessie E. Stevens, P. Hill, Katie E. Earl, M.W. Collet, and A.H. White.

ANSWERS TO THE "BLIND-CLERK'S PUZZLE," in Jack-in-the-Pulpit for December, were received, before December 18, from K.C.R., H.B. Hastings, and "Nat"; and answers to the TREE PUZZLE from Mary V. Ridgway, "M.," Linda L. Bergen, H. Walton, H.B. Hastings, J.C. Hoadley, Lewis K. Stubbs.

Caroline I. Lockwood, of Tunbridge Wells, England, sends an answer to a puzzle in a former number.

THE END