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dubiously to one side and her pretty lips drooping at haps, better still, when you are older, and the bustle of the corners. Did she doubt me? The thought gave the day has made you tired and cross, you go to her me renewed vigor, and I shot forward, leaving the filly and put your head on her shoulder, and tell her all far in the rear. A great cheer rose from the crowd, about the scrapes of school, of the losing of temper, or and I overtook the roan. A moment later I crossed the other trials that seem so great to you; then Mother line. All the men patted and praised me, and then Miss seems to smooth out the snarls, and you are content. Constance came running up, and, standing on tiptoes, fung her arms around my neck.
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY "Dixie,” she whispered, “Dixie, I 'm so proud of
BY KATHRYN HULBERT (AGE 13) you!" That was the happiest moment of my life.
(Silver Badge) Five summers ago, Father rented a dear little cottage on the east side of Sebago Lake.
My favorite uncle and his family spent that summer with us, and we had the happiest of times together.
Our beach, long and smooth, was in a little cove, and we built a breakwater at the entrance, making our swimming-pool safe and quiet.
Our days began early and passed all too quickly, with the early morning strolls, the dip at eleven, the afternoon tramps, or quiet readings, and, best of all, the thrilling stories around the evening camp-fire.
Father and Mother often planned a picnic on Picture Rocks, rocks from which, tradition relates, Captain
Frye, chased by Indians, leaped into the lake, sixty feet A HEADING FOR JULY." BY MARION MONROE, AGE 14.
or more below, and swam over to the island which now (SILVER BADGE.)
bears his name. On these massive rocks are crude
drawings of hideous Indians, canoes, signs, and a picCHIVALRY
ture of Frye making his leap. BY BEN SLEEPER (AGE 17)
We always lighted the camp-fire early, so that evenings
might be as long as possible; and as darkness came (Gold Badge)
on, and the weird call of the loon came floating over the A QUEEN went forth to take the air
water, we gathered closer to the crackling logs, to listen In garments rich, bejeweled, rare;
to Uncle's always-anticipated story. Her very shoes were 'broidered round
The stars peeped forth from the dark sky, the story With pearls upon a golden ground.
closed, and later, long after the good nights had been In joyous mood she merry made
said, we lay awake watching the red embers, which With all her brilliant cavalcade,
seemed like little dancing fairies with torches in their • Who laughed at e'en the tiniest jest The queen essayed (or tried their best). But soon she stopped in dire dismay, A filthy puddle barred her way; She looked first at one satin shoe, Then at the mud—what should she do? She hesitated not for long; From out the agitated throng Stepped forth a youth of noble mien, Who, bowing low before the queen, His cloak of crimson velvet tossed Into the mud. His monarch crossed. Then, to complete the courtier's bliss, Gave him her royal hand to kiss.
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
FREE!" BY WILLIAM MCK. MURRAY, AGE 17.
(SILVER BADGE.) sweet songs of long ago.
Or when in the soft and balmy twilight of a sum- hands; and the fireflies, Aitting past, flashed their tiny mer evening you and Mother sit out on the porch, and search-lights in reply. listen to the crickets chirping, and the frogs talking to Thus passed the summer, and with the fall, we turned one another down in the swamp, until a
sense of our faces toward home and school, carrying with us the drowsiness steals over you, and you fall asleep. Per- memory of a delightful vacation.
VOL. XXXIX. - 108.
(Honor Member) A PERFECTLY terribly rainy day, A little girl had come in to play With the little boy of the curly hair, Who snuggled up in the red plush chair. "Knight and lady,” they planned their game,
When another, almost a big boy, came. “Say, kid, you be the carpet-knight!” Quivering lips replied, “All right.”—
Poor little mite !
of little brown, bare feet are pattering down the graveled driveway, and into the dusty road, sturdily climbing the steep mountain-side, and descending to the valley. A faint roar is heard, and the foaming, dashing, mountain torrent bursts into view, as, sparkling, it bounds to the valley below. There, hushed to whispered lullabies, it steals softly onward, amid the kisses of droop'ing ferns and gaily colored wild flowers.
See the little merrymakers, tired from their long walk, sporting in the cool waters with many childish screams of delight!
Oh, what a perfect work of Nature! this wild, secluded valley of the mountains, where the marring hand of man has not yet been; where the song of the bird mingles fearlessly with the gay laughter of little children, and the sun shines over all.
But now the dusk of evening is gathering, and twilight approaches, veiling in awful mystery these wonderful works of God. The little band is returning, with lagging steps and heavy heads; but soon kind hands have tucked them into little beds, and they are journeying into dreamland. The moon has risen, and sheds her pale glory over the sleeping earth. Peace reigns supreme.
The dream has flitted, and with a start my mind is brought back to earth and reality, for I am no longer a wee lass of six.
"Is n't that nice ?” said the little girl, “I really wanted a great big earl ; You can stay home and the coward be, And he 'll fight and kill you for love of me. The ink will do for a coward's gore, I 'll make a pool on the battle floor!” But, truly, it was an awful sight. "Oh, don't do that !” cried the carpet-knight,
All in affright. A terrified spring from the red plush chair, A push from the brave knight standing there, The craven fell in his pool of gore, And his mother stood in the open door. "Who made this ink-spot? You 'd better tell, I'll get your mothers to spank you well,
Or I will do it. Who caused this sight?" "I must not tell !" sobbed the carpet-knight
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
(Silver Badge) The morning sun was rising on a day, long, long ago, When a knight upon his charger started out to fight the
foe; He was clad from foot to helmet in a suit of armor
bright, And as he left his castle's gate, his heart was gay and
A maiden fair, with golden hair, and wond'rous eyes of
blue, Had given him that very morn her hand and heart so
true; And as he rode along his way, beneath the azure sky, He thought of how he loved her-he would fight for
love or die.
BY WALTER K. FRAME, AGE 16.
alone in their shelter, the dream pictures come, hazy, sweet, and far away.
I see a little old-fashioned English school-house where noisy, excited children are talking in little groups. Savory odors are floating from the kitchen as large hampers are packed with good things. Now many pairs
The silvery moon was shining on a bright and starry
night, When by her dying lover knelt a maiden, clad in white; They interchanged a few sweet words, and then he
softly sighed, He had kept full well his promise—he had fought for
love and died.
ONE OF MY HAPPIEST MEMORIES
BY ELSIE STEVENS (AGE 15) So many beautiful memories crowd into my mind that it is difficult to determine which is best ; but I think my happiest memories are those of little children.
None of us girls who have passed into our 'teens can turn back and be as we were seven years ago. We cannot lessen our height, shorten our dresses, or narrow our ideas to childish ones. But though we can never be children again, there is one thing which we may do, and that is, we may keep the heart of childhood, which may best be accomplished by bringing ourselves into close contact with those now in the midst of the land we have just left.
Shrilly proclaimed the opening tournament;
Not only when the victor, humbly bent, Before his lady knelt, and there was crowned ; Not only when the knights of old renowned,
Arthur's companions, on their duty sent,
Rode far away, and helped where'er they went,Not only then may chivalry be found;
But now, whenever there is seen a man Helping the weak as none but strong men can,
In quiet field, in busy, bustling mart; Unstained in honor, speaking only truthAh, where he stands, there is a knight in sooth;
True chivalry reigns ever in his heart.
It is late afternoon. The rays of sunlight are streaming through the windows, lighting up a group of childish faces belonging to seven little people snuggled among the cushions of my window-seat. The faces are full of eagerness as they listen to a story which I am reading aloud. When I have finished, one little girl asks inquisitively, “But why?" How like myself, I think. I was the same inquisitive little body, always wanting to know the "whys" and "wherefores.” And the primness of the child next to her, who casts a reproving glance at the interrupter-how she reminds me of Rose Mary, one of my early friends!
Perhaps I am speaking in too “grown-up” a manner, and talking as if childhood were a very distant past; but I think many girls try to appear very "young-ladyfied" and proper, and instead look very foolish and unnatural. I think that to have little ones about us is one of the best ways to make us realize that we are children still, for as I helped my little friends on with their wraps, kissed them good-by, and watched them go gaily down the street, I felt very near to the kingdom of childhood and the happy memories that dwell there.
THE ROLL OF HONOR A list of those whose work would have been used had space permitted. No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement. (Unavoidably crowded out this month.) PROSE, I
Sophie E. Woods Ruth Starr
Marion B. Reed Edith M. Levy Elizabeth Macdonald Julia M. Herget Dorothy H. DeWitt Helen Stearns
Elizabeth Boorum Charles R. G. Page Dorothy H. Sutton Fannie W. Butterfield Miette Brugnot Margaret Johnson Sarah Sirit Caroline C. Bedell Elizabeth Boyd White Howard Putzel Elmer H. Van Fleet Marian Shaler
Helen A. Winans Elsie Terhune
Doris H. Voss
Mary E. Taggart
Isabel M. Cundill
Jennie E. Everden
Louise S. May Emily S. Reed
Carolyn Weiss Alice M. Hamlet Cornelia S. Jackson Mary Mason Elizabeth F. Bradbury Dorothy May Owens Alice Lee Tully Rebekah B. Hoffman Helen Bolles
Frances Riker Genevieve K. Hamlin Richard R. Haas Ambler, John W. Cloghorn, Jr., Gordon Lane, W. Irving Harris, Barclay V. Huiell Rosella M. Hartmann Mildred Wilsey
Simon Sneller. Dorothy J. Bogart Lily A. Lewis
W. Coburn Seward Mildred Thorp Margaret Brate Katherine L. Guy
NO AGE. Daniel B. Benscoter, James O'Brien, Alice Wilkins, Herbert Philpott Henrietta H. B.
Alice B. Young, James Lacey, Doris I. Knight, Adelaide C. Hibbard.
Frances Scoville Anthony Fabbri Sturgis
INCOMPLETE ADDRESS GIVEN. Lucile Luttrell, Howard Katherine E. Read Nellie L. Leach Nellie Melrose
Johnson, Reynolds S. Judah, Charles Judah, Jr., Phæbe Harris, Doris R. Wilder Margaret Couty Marjory F. Velie Clement H. Watson, Jeanette Hecht. Goldie Zucker
S. Dorothy Bell Joseph M. Hayman WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. Lillia Lyman, AlLois Hopkins Dorothy Hughes Allen Thomas
berta Burton. Ethel M. Feuerlicht Marjorie Flack Charlotte M. White IN PENCIL. Herman F. Blumenthal, Dorothy R. Oppenheim, Geo. F. Milliken, Jr. Helen A. Baker
Charles Churchill, Marion Isenman, Cecile E. Latrielle, Gretchen Ethel London Gladys Cole Richard L. Bartlett
Rand, Grace M. Finch, Marcia F. Schenck. Annabelle La Plant Gene Davis
Mary P. Zesinger
Ellen W. Coates
PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 153
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges Mary Van Fossen
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, Jane Coolidge
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasionMargaret E. Beakes Henry Wilson Hardy
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winMarie H. Wilson
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place. Mary Nathan
Competition No. 153 will close July 10 (for Mildred Weissner Mary Rhoades
foreign members July 15). Prize announcements Katharine McLain
will be made and the selected contributions published in Harold E. Newcomb
ST. NICHOLAS for November.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. Florence L. Smith
Subject, “ The Sentinel,” or “On Guard.”
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred Emily M. Gile
words. Subject, “My Favorite Hero (or Heroine) in Agnes Abbot F. Cooley Eveleth
History — and Why." VERSE, 1
Gustave Diechmann Emeline W. Kellogg Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted; no blue
Margery F. Morgan Harriot A. Parsons Eleanor Johnson Jessica H. Robinson Eleanor E. Barry,
prints or negatives. Subject, "A Frolic,” or “Frolicsome.” Frederick H. Lucy F. Rogers Gerald H. Loomis
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. Strawbridge, Jr. Alice Carter
Subject, “On the Square," or a Heading for November. Irma A. Hill Marian Stabler Leopold A.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the anRenée Geoffrion Harold Beck
Thomas C. Norcross Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. NICHOLAS. Henry D. Costigan Jennie Hicks
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on Mildred W. Longstreth Marian E. Taylor PUZZLES, 1
the first page of the “Riddle-box.” Virginia Sledge Marjorie Beard Bob Burgher
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur
Bessie T. Keene
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The George Woodward, Jr. Olga M. Griffin prizes in the “Wild Creature Photography" competition Jack Hopkins
Marion A. Reynolds Angeline Bennett James Williamson Elizabeth W. Pharo
shall be in four classes, as follows: Prize, Class A, a
Calista P. Eliot Marian E. Stearns Gordon Kent
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold Helen Briggs
badge and one dollar. Prise, Class C, a gold badge.
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive Gladys H. Pew
a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be Fannie Ruley Marjorie K. Gibbons
of “protected” game, as in zoological gardens or game Eugene Scott
reservations. Contributors must state in a few words where Alan Dudley Bush and under what circumstances the photograph was taken. Miriam Loring
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
script, drawing, or photograph. Eree!!
Arnold G. Cameron
ANY reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and ROLL OF THE CARELESS
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete. could not be properly entered for the competition.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the LATE. Clarice French, Annie H. Parrott, Lillie G. Menary, Hes
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as ter D. Nott, Audrey M. Cooper, Elsa Clark, Donald Friede, Doris “original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be Longton, Beryl H. Margetson, Katharine H. Seligman, Marjorie Se- convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, ligman, Hester Raven Hart, Dora Guy, Margherita Auteri, Loyala B. Lee, Elizabeth Martindale, Heather É. Burbury, Eleanor King New
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the ell, Olive M. Kimbell, Charles P. Newton, Margaret Barcalo, Marga- number of words should also be added. These notes must ret Polhamus, Dorothy Smith, Elizabeth Dudley, Hester M. Dicksy, not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itselfEdith Rice, Russell Hendee, Dora E. Bailey, Lucille Wardner, Ethel W. Kidder, Phyllis Coate, Mabel Patterson, Lillian Patterson, Claude
is manuscript, on the upper margin; if a picture, on the Pelly, Antonia Schwab.
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper NOT INDORSED. Lucius H. Barbour, Julian Ross, Elizabeth only. A contributor may send but one contribution a Williams, Eleanor Fish, Elizabeth Robinson, Dorothy Phillips, Chas. month — not one of each kind, but one only. Podaski, Emily Goltzmann, Erma Sheridan, Caroline de Windt, Maurice Irons, Dorothy Barnard, Eliot G. Hall, Elizabeth Waddell,
The St. Nicholas League, Laurens Williams, Georgina Yeatman, Horace Yeomans, Wyllys K.
Union Square, New York.
BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE
mation, and make us free of nature's lore. Th latter only repeat what we already know.
It certainly seems a waste of time, and time is too wonderful to waste. We only have just so much of it, you know. We can't borrow it, or buy it, or save it; we can only use it. It is here, and then it is gone! And while it is here, we ought to get the best we can out of it.
SUMMER COLLECTIONS MANY boys and girls love to make collections, and summer is the time to make most of those that are especially interesting and valuable. A collection of specimens that you have yourself found, or captured, and preserved, will teach you a quantity of things you could hardly learn in any other way, and help you, also, to be alert and quick of hand and eye.
A BOY FRIEND'S HOBBY One boy I know has been greatly interested this winter in the magnificent collections of moths and butterflies to be seen in the Museum of Natural History at New York. As soon as school is over, he is going straight to the country, and he intends making as perfect a collection as possi
ble of the moths and butterflies of the particular BOOKS FOR USE
section where he is to be. The other day he During the summer many of us live in a world asked me whether I could tell him some book we know precious little about-the world of out- that he could get which would not be too technical of-doors. It is a world that begins right at our or difficult, but which would give him the assistdoor-step and continues on through space to the ance he required. uttermost star, to the heart of the untracked I remembered that I had found just what he forest or unclimbed mountain, or down to the wanted in two books by W. J. Holland, “The depths of the ocean. It is a world of marvels, of Moth Book” and “The Butterfly Book,” two strange transformations and thrilling adventures, volumes written to meet the young collector's beside which the world of fairy tale or fancied needs. They are not too big or “deep,” and they adventure looks dim and tame.
tell in a most interesting way about the common
moths and butterflies of America, as well as some THE TIME WE WASTE
of the rarer ones. There are numerous illustra
tions, and a vast lot of information concerning Now we do not take a.tithe of the trouble to be- the development and life history of these lovely come familiar with this world at our door that insects, the harm some of them do in their difwe take to pore over scenes and adventures as ferent forms, and just how best to capture them well known to us as breakfast and supper. For and mount them. In fact, if you have the least one book we read that tells us something new interest in this subject, you will be hugely pleased and true of the woods, and fields, and the crea- with these books. tures that live there, we race through a hundred Perhaps you are more curious about other inthat repeat for us the story of some boys or girls sects, beetles, dragon-flies, or what-not? If so, living just about the lives we are ourselves living. get Leland O. Howard's “Inse Book.” The eld The former books would give us accurate infor- is broader, and you will be astonished at the won