dubiously to one side and her pretty lips drooping at the corners. Did she doubt me? The thought gave me renewed vigor, and I shot forward, leaving the filly far in the rear. A great cheer rose from the crowd, and I overtook the roan. A moment later I crossed the line. All the men patted and praised me, and then Miss Constance came running up, and, standing on tiptoes, flung her arms around my neck. "Dixie," she whispered, "Dixie, I'm so proud of you!" That was the happiest moment of my life. BY BEN SLEEPER (AGE 17) A QUEEN went forth to take the air A filthy puddle barred her way; From out the agitated throng haps, better still, when you are older, and the bustle of the day has made you tired and cross, you go to her and put your head on her shoulder, and tell her all about the scrapes of school, of the losing of temper, or other trials that seem so great to you; then Mother seems to smooth out the snarls, and you are content. MY HAPPIEST MEMORY BY KATHRYN HULBERT (AGE 13) (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 or more below, and swam over to the island which now bears his name. On these massive rocks are crude drawings of hideous Indians, canoes, signs, and a picture of Frye making his leap. We always lighted the camp-fire early, so that evenings might be as long as possible; and as darkness came on, and the weird call of the loon came floating over the water, we gathered closer to the crackling logs, to listen to Uncle's always-anticipated story. The stars peeped forth from the dark sky, the story closed, and later, long after the good nights had been said, we lay awake watching the red embers, which seemed like little dancing fairies with torches in their ए BY WILLIAM MC K. MURRAY, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.) hands; and the fireflies, flitting past, flashed their tiny search-lights in reply. Thus passed the summer, and with the fall, we turned our faces toward home and school, carrying with us the memory of a delightful vacation. 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. THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY BY MERRILL T. B. SPALDING (AGE 14) 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 light. 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. The sun was high in heaven on that day, long, long ago, When, with his band of followers, he marched against the foe. His look was stern and fearless as the enemy drew near, But his heart was warm and loving for the maid he held so dear. The conflict raged, great blows were struck, and shields were split in twain, Both friend and foe alike did fight with all their might and main; But when the day was won, the victors' hearts were filled with grief, For among the dead and dying lay their brave and noble chief. 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. IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY BY HOWARD BENNETT (AGE 17) THE brooklet laughed as it leaped along, In the days of chivalry. The drawbridge fell and spanned the foss, "My lord," said the younger knight, "I tire "My son, I know full well how you yearn, But, mayhap, if you go, you will never return." "My father, the fairest maid in the land Has smiled on me; for her sake I withstand The bowed old head did not gainsay; ONE OF MY HAPPIEST MEMORIES So many beautiful memories crowd into my mind that 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. 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. I CHIVALRY BY FRANCES DUGGAR (AGE 16) LITTLE boy and little girl, on the grass at play, "Do not cry, my sister dear, don't you know, while I am I won't let the bad dogs harm you, Little girl and little boy, coming home at night, And no silvery moon above them makes the pathway bright; She is frightened at the darkness, but he gently whispers to her, "Never fear, sister dear, don't you know, while I am here, I won't let the darkness harm you, Many years have passed away, They're no longer at their play; But he still protects and shields her, still he proudly to her says, "Never fear, sister dear, don't you know, while I am Nothing shall disturb nor harm you, CHIVALRY BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 16) NOT only when the trumpet's stirring sound But now, whenever there is seen a man THE ROLL OF HONOR No. 1. A list of those whose work would have been used had space PROSE, I permitted. When I have finished, one little girl asks inquisitively, "But why?" How like myself, I think. 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. Hattie M. Wulke Rachel L. Field Frances Riker Henry Wilson Hardy Marie H. Wilson Mildred Weissner Mary Rhoades Katharine McLain Harold E. Newcomb Lois Kellogg Althea R. Kimberley Florence L. Smith Mildred A. Gutwillig Naomi Lauchheimer Emily M. Gile BY HELEN T. STEVENSON, AGE 11. F. Cooley Eveleth Emeline W. Kellogg Harriot A. Parsons Eleanor E. Barry Gerald H. Loomis Doris Bunton Leopold A. Camacho, Jr. Dorothy Helmle Thomas C. Norcross Eric H. Marks Grahm Mchaffey PUZZLES, 1 Alan Dudley Bush ROLL OF THE CARELESS A LIST of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and could not be properly entered for the competition. LATE. Clarice French, Annie H. Parrott, Lillie G. Menary, Hester D. Nott, Audrey M. Cooper, Elsa Clark, Donald Friede, Doris Longton, Beryl H. Margetson, Katharine H. Seligman, Marjorie Seligman, Hester Raven Hart, Dora Guy, Margherita Auteri, Loyala B. Lee, Elizabeth Martindale, Heather F. Burbury, Eleanor King Newell, Olive M. Kimbell, Charles P. Newton, Margaret Barcalo, Margaret Polhamus, Dorothy Smith, Elizabeth Dudley, Hester M. Dicksy, Edith Rice, Russell Hendee, Dora E. Bailey, Lucille Wardner, Ethel W. Kidder, Phyllis Coate, Mabel Patterson, Lillian Patterson, Claude Pelly, Antonia Schwab. NOT INDORSED. Lucius H. Barbour, Julian Ross, Elizabeth Williams, Eleanor Fish, Elizabeth Robinson, Dorothy Phillips, Chas. Podaski, Emily Goltzmann, Erma Sheridan, Caroline de Windt, Maurice Irons, Dorothy Barnard, Eliot G. Hall, Elizabeth Waddell, Laurens Williams, Georgina Yeatman, Horace Yeomans, Wyllys K. Ambler, John W. Cloghorn, Jr., Gordon Lane, W. Irving Harris, Simon Sneller. NO AGE. Daniel B. Benscoter, James O'Brien, Alice Wilkins, Alice B. Young, James Lacey, Doris I. Knight, Adelaide C. Hibbard. INCOMPLETE ADDRESS GIVEN. Lucile Luttrell, Howard Johnson, Reynolds S. Judah, Charles Judah, Jr., Phoebe Harris, Clement H. Watson, Jeanette Hecht. WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. Lillia Lyman, Alberta Burton. IN PENCIL. Herman F. Blumenthal, Dorothy R. Oppenheim, Charles Churchill, Marion Isenman, Cecile E. Latrielle, Gretchen Rand, Grace M. Finch, Marcia F. Schenck. PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 153 THE ST. NICHOLAS League awards gold and silver badges each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasionally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winners who shall, from time to time, again win first place. Competition No. 153 will close July 10 (for foreign members July 15). Prize announcements will be made and the selected contributions published in ST. NICHOLAS for November. Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. Subject, "The Sentinel," or "On Guard." Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred words. Subject, "My Favorite Hero (or Heroine) in History and Why." Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted; no blue prints or negatives. Subject, "A Frolic," or "Frolicsome." Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. Subject, "On the Square," or a Heading for November. Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the answer in full, and must be indorsed. Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set of answers to puzzles in this issue of ST. NICHOLAS. Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on the first page of the "Riddle-box." The Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pursuing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition shall be in four classes, as follows: Prize, Class A, a gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge. Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be of "protected" game, as in zoological gardens or game reservations. Contributors must state in a few words where and under what circumstances the photograph was taken. Special Notice. No unused contribution can be returned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manuscript, drawing, or photograph. RULES ANY reader of ST. NICHOLAS, whether a subscriber or not, is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who has reached the age of eighteen years may compete. Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the number of words should also be added. These notes must not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself— if manuscript, on the upper margin; if a picture, on the margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper only. A contributor may send but one contribution a month not one of each kind, but one only. Address: The St. Nicholas League, BOOKS AND READING BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE Now we do not take a tithe of the trouble to become familiar with this world at our door that we take to pore over scenes and adventures as well known to us as breakfast and supper. For one book we read that tells us something new and true of the woods, and fields, and the creatures that live there, we race through a hundred that repeat for us the story of some boys or girls living just about the lives we are ourselves living. The former books would give us accurate infor mation, and make us free of nature's lore. The 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 possible of the moths and butterflies of the particular section where he is to be. The other day he asked me whether I could tell him some book that he could get which would not be too technical or difficult, but which would give him the assistance he required. I remembered that I had found just what he wanted in two books by W. J. Holland, "The Moth Book" and "The Butterfly Book," two volumes written to meet the young collector's needs. They are not too big or "deep," and they tell in a most interesting way about the common moths and butterflies of America, as well as some of the rarer ones. There are numerous illustrations, and a vast lot of information concerning the development and life history of these lovely insects, the harm some of them do in their different forms, and just how best to capture them and mount them. In fact, if you have the least interest in this subject, you will be hugely pleased with these books. Perhaps you are more curious about other insects, beetles, dragon-flies, or what-not? If so, get Leland O. Howard's "Insect Book." The field is broader, and you will be astonished at the won |