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(Silver Badge)

WHILE I was on a ranch in California a few years ago, I had several exciting experiences; but the most unusual one was with a mountain-lion. These marauding animals have often been known to steal poultry and sometimes cattle, but very seldom to attack a man, except when protecting their young.

My brother, sister, and I started out for a picnic lunch in a grove of large oaks near our ranch. We were about to unpack the basket of good things, when, to our

great surprise, a baby mountain-lion came bounding out of a near-by thicket. As it was perfectly tame, we had no trouble in catching it, and it did not mind our caresses in the least. We were just trying to decide what we should do with it, when we heard a dreadful roar close at hand, and, on turning around, we beheld a large lioness approaching us in big leaps. We dropped the cub as if it had been a lighted bomb, and it did not take us long to climb up a near-by tree.

The lioness made several futile leaps at us, but we had climbed beyond her reach. Then she commenced to walk around the tree, uttering fierce growls, and every now and then tearing the bark off the tree with her sharp claws. Finally, there was a roar, which was repeated three times, far up the mountain-side. At first the lioness paid no attention to the call of her mate; but she answered the third call, and at the fourth, to our great relief, she bounded off with her little cub scampering at her heels.

When we were assured of her departure, we climbed down, and, picking up the basket, we set off for home, for we did not want to stay in such a dangerous vicinity any longer.

(Silver Badge)

THANKSGIVING has arrived at last.
There's been prepared a grand repast.
"T is just this one day in the year
That Mother does not interfere.
So oysters, turtle soup, and fish,
Along with all that we could wish,
Of turkey, salad, and ice-cream,
We eat in quantities extreme,
And on the top of this we take

Plum-pudding with rich chocolate cake.
So we are most extremely gay,
And this is our Thanksgiving Day.

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To-morrow dawns, and we awake,
And, oh! how our poor heads do ache!
It seems as though some unseen hand
Is pressing on a white-hot brand;
But this is not the only place
Where yesterday has left its trace,
For from our feet up to our head,
We feel as if we 'd soon be dead;
And since we are so awfully sick,
Our mother calls the doctor quick.
So then it 's his turn to be gay,
And this is his Thanksgiving Day.

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"A HEADING FOR AUGUST." BY LOUISE GRAHAM, AGE 13. Now the true spirit of the man who has missed the shot is clearly revealed. If he has the slightest trace of self-control and good-breeding, the player undoubtedly remains silent and does not expostulate. But if, on the other hand, he has neither, his opponent very soon sees an exhibition of his temper. In countless other instances the character of the individual may be easily ascertained.

All things considered, I personally think that golf is the greatest outdoor game. Primarily it insures a healthy mind and body, but develops as well one's reasoning power, good manners, and sometimes, if the player has been correctly instructed as a beginner, even develops character. Again, another strong point in its favor is its universal appeal, for golf can be played from early youth to old age. Name any other outdoor game that has all these advantages, including the one last named! Therefore, considering the pleasure and physical benefits derived from the game, golf is my favorite recreation and pastime-a subtle and fascinating sport. VOL. XXXIX. - 120.



A LITTLE child is playing on the lawn;
The sky above her is a deep, rich blue,
With just a tint of rose far in the east,
While on the grass there lingers sparkling dew.

The child is smiling, gazing overhead,
Laughing with pleasure at the lovely sight;
The pretty flowers, nodding their fair heads;
The sun just rising, a huge ball of light,

Which makes the dewdrops change to flashing gems;
They seem like playthings to the child so fair;
She plucks a blade of grass and shakes them off;
Once more her merry laughter fills the air.

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I ran up-stairs again, and Father came down, half dressed and very tired, as it was just one o'clock. He went to the back door, but saw no one. It was certainly a mystery, but soon the policeman, seeing our lights lit at that unearthly hour, came and inquired what was wrong.

Father told him, and they went on another hunt; down the cellar, out in the barn, all over the yard, and finally came back to the house, unable to give any reason for the ringing, as they had found no trace of any man. We were all being deafened up-stairs, and were wishing it would stop ringing; but it kept right on, not paus

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But as for my companions here, they laugh me quite to scorn;

"You never will a hero be when dawn to-morrow's morn!"

But yet, although they say I will not be a great, good


I never say, "I cannot," but I try to think I can.

I can if I do what is right, and always leave the wrong; I can if I try hard enough, and my desire is strong; And all through life's long struggle, I shall try to be a


And never say, "I cannot," when I think, perhaps, I

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L. Adrienne Evans
Sarah Davison
Edna L. Clay
Ruth Genzberger
Ellen C. Gary

J. Butler Wright, Jr.
Phoebe S. Lambe
Mildred H. Luthardt
Dorothy H. De Witt
Myrtle Doppmann
Jennie Mustapher
Katharine Keyes
Elizabeth Roberts
Naomi Lauchheimer
Anna Okeson
Anna L. Porter

Margaret E. Graham
Katharine Biggs
Marion Norman
Charlotte L. Bixby
Patrina M. Colis
Rebecca H. Wilder
Marjorie Trotter
Henry Van Fleet
Elsie Stevens
Ruth M. Morriss
Marion C. White
Arthur N. Moore
Ethel London
Nancy A. Fleming
Margaret C. Bland
Olga van S. Owens
Elsie Terhune
Beatrice Wormser
Mary Van Fossen
Anna Rimington
Louise Stockbridge
Mildred Bishop
Caroline Jeffress
Helen B. Bennett
Elizabeth Engster
Estelle M. Perham
Marie Kilborne
John M. Kleberg
Dorothy M. Rogers
Ruth E. McClive
Virginia Sledge
Eleanor S. Cooper
Ginerva King
Wm. B. Douglass, Jr.
Jean E. Freeman
Eleanor H. Fish
Katharine B. Nesmith
Bessie Sodersten
Helen Sheehan
Janet T. Tremaine
Juliet H. Rogers
Marian L. Ansbacher
Flora MacLaine
Cora Kane
Mary McRae


Susan B. Sturgis
Edith Sturgis
Lucile H. Quarry
Doris R. Wilder
Bertha E. Walker
Eleanor M. Sickels
Nellie Adams
Thomas H. Joyce
Helen A. Monsell
F. Cleary Hanighen
Elise M. Mirkil
Madelaine Schreiber
Claire H. Roesch
Forest Hopping
Frank H. Stuerm
Helen R. Tolles
Constance Bowles
Lillie G. Menary
Eleanor Johnson
Emily Goetzmann
Eugenia B. Sheppard
Charlotte MacDougall
Alice M. Hamlet
George M. Enos
Lois Hopkins
Kathryn Hulbert
Frances E. Burr
Dorothea Cronin
Harriett Peasley
Jean Knight
Virginia Job

Marion E. Stark
Marjorie Skiff
Stanley B. Reid
Marion F. Hayden
Bernard J. Snyder
Ellen L. Hoffman
Elizabeth Maclennan
Marguerite S. Pearson
Hazel M. Chapman
Ruth V. Hyde
Leonard Oliver
Ruth Stromme
Helen Clark

Alice Emge

Winifred Wood
Lucile Mayne
Mary Thayer
Frances C. Duggar
Mary V. Farrer

Fannie H. MacFadden
Vera B. Hall
Marian Shaler
Osie B. Loveless
Effie C. Ross
John Cregan
Sophie E. Woods
Elizabeth Waddell


Dorothy Hughes
Dorothy Calkins
Frank Leach

Rosella M. Hartmann
Jessie E. Alison
Geo. P. Lindberg
Reina Keefer
Jos. Leventhal
Marion C. Dinsmore
Ruth S. Strong
Walter K. Frame
Corydon Wheat
Rolf Ueland

E. Theodore Nelson
Katharine Reynolds
Frances Thomas
Margaret R. Bennett
Doris Grimble
Dorothy L. Todd
Victor Child
Dorothy Seligman
Elizabeth E. Sherman
Madeleine Utard
Horatio Rogers
Frank Paulus
Goldie Zucker
Harry Zitler
Terrence Gallagher
Earl A. Garard
Henry J. Neal
Miriam Lathe
Fred Malkmus
Eleanor W. Atkinson
Clarisse S. De Bost
Helen A. Baker
Welthea B. Thoday
Constance Andrus
Paul Detlefsen
Henrietta H. Henning
Margaret E. Hanecom
Vincent B. Logue, Jr.
Howard R. Sherman
John B. Hyatt, Jr.
Aroline A. Beecher
Homer Wallace
Agnes Smith
Raphael Blumenthal
Leo Peter Gusto
Margaret L. Duggar
Henry Greenberg
Ethel Warren Kidder
Caleb D. Elliott
Cornelia Bird
Kedma Dupont
Marie Smola
Jane Abbott
Mildred Johnson
Kenneth Rickett
Gertrude Praster
Florence Stevenson
Mary Lauler
George Wintermute
John Lamey
Roy L. Olson
Catharine L. Clark

Charlotte White
Esther C. Lanman
Josephine Sturgis
Dorothy V. Tyson
Rosamond Sherwood
Robert Burgess
Gwendolen Hampson
Faith Morse
Russell Jones
Helen G. Farrell
Eleanor O. Doremus
Margaret Kohn
Earle W. Paylor
Dorothy Fischer
Helen M. Kingman
Alice Parker
Hazel Whalen
G. A. Lintner
Lois W. Kellogg
Virginia Nirdlinger
Robert Banks

Emeline A. W. Kellogg
Alice W. Hall

Katharine E. Beatty
Katherine L. Guy
Martha Robinson
Lavinia K. Sherman
Caroline Aber
Marion Pomeroy
Dorothy P. Richardson
Perry B. Jenkins
Marion Roos
Elizabeth C. Carter
Charles Bartow
Ruth Haey
Caroline F. Ware
M. Josephine Boyd
Herbert Weidenthal
F. A. Stenbuck
Elizabeth Cains
Elizabeth Hayes
Stuart W. Kellogg
Rachel Talbot
Esther L. Faulhaber
Dorothy von Olker
Dorothy Peabody
Eleanor E. Barry
Margaret Pratt
Kenneth Smith
Margaret Kew
Josephine G. Taylor
W. Robert Reud
Anne Ashley
Eric Henry Marks
Gladys E. Livermore
Esther R. Harrington
Marjorie Robarts

Marion H. Barbour
Grace Freese
Marion Henshaw
Elizabeth W. Reynolds
Junior Scruton
Mildred Dudley
J. A. Mathews
Stewart Kurtz
Robert Clark
Mary De Witt
Betty Humphreys
Margaret Dart
Jeannette C. Owens
Ruth Marshall
Edna Hauselt
Alberta Apple
Helen Jackson
James Moody
Katharine Eldred
Leigh Stoek
Elsie Nichols
Dorothy G. Schwarz
William B. Bacon
John L. Loomis
Marie Rupp
Warren Dodge
Elwood H. Gallien
Timothy E. Holden


Duncan Scarborough
Frederick W. Fuess, Jr.
Carl Muckenhaupt
Le Rov A. MacColl
Edna F. Kaufmann

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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. 154 will close August 10 (for foreign members August 15). Prize announcements will be made and the selected contributions published in ST. NICHOLAS for December.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. Subject, "The Best Month of All."

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred words. Title to contain the word "Christmas."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted; no blue "A prints or negatives. Subject, "On the Road," or, Good Listener."

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Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. Subject, My Favorite Subject; or, What I Like Best to Draw," or a Heading for December.


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."

Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pursuing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The 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.


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.

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AUGUST is here again, and the call of the sea comes home to most of us. It is hard to tell whether being in or on or beside it is the more attractive. The best way is to manage to do all three of these delectable things, and to do them over and over again, right through the month. What health and vigor, what freshness and strength, the ocean has, and how generously it bestows them on its lovers. A summer without the sea is only half a summer, or so all of us who have ever come to know it believe; the very smell of a tarry rope or a bit of seaweed will set our hearts to thumping if we are far inshore, and all the witchery of lake and river and mountain can never entirely satisfy the children of the sea.

Since the beginning of time, too, the sea has been associated with romance and adventure. It has been a mystery, a danger, a lure. Mighty battles have been fought upon it, and all the most daring voyages have been across it or around it. Pirates have plied their terrible but picturesque trade all over its vast surface and among its lonely islands. Wrecks have gone down in it, and it has rocked open boats under the stars and sun for agonizing weeks, mocking the dying crew with the glitter of its deadly water, fencing them from succor with the unbroken line of its horizon.

In ancient days, men fared forth upon the sea in cockle-shell boats propelled by oars and sails, getting along somehow, discovering new shores, and meeting countless perils. Once home again, they told great tales of their adventures, and were looked upon with admiration as a brave and hardy lot, whom nothing ashore could terrify; for they had faced the immeasurably more fearful perils of the high seas, which only the strongest and most courageous could survive. Men gathered about to hear what they had to tell, and women gazed admiringly upon them as they rolled along the street with a step that seemed

still to feel the monstrous heave of mighty waves. As for the lads, not one of them but longed for a sailor's life, and thought a ship's deck the finest thing in the world.

Ever since those old times, sea-faring men have told stories, or had stories told about them. And some of these sea tales are the best there are, with a swing and a go to them that set the pulses flying. Even to-day there is a world of romance and wonder left to the sea, and the life lived on it is very different from life on land, however adventurous that may be. Good books there are that tell the stories for us now, since few of us know a sailor who will spin a yarn at our request, more 's the pity! And I thought I would choose this hot month to speak of a few of these books. And as the murmur of the waves haunts the curved interior of a shell, so some of the coolness and sweetness of the great ocean may haunt my pages, put there by yourselves, however, as you read or listen, thinking of the long fall of the waves on the beach, and the white fury of the foam in a storm.


A SPLENDID book to begin with is Ernest Ingersoll's "Book of the Ocean," for it tells the story of the sea itself; of its caverns and measureless deeps, its currents and tides; of the plants and strange creatures who live in it-fish and animals, and the storms that fall upon it. Not only does this book tell of the sea's own life, but also of the many kinds of boats and ships men have used to go forth on it, from the early galleys and pinnaces and galleons through all the history of the "hearts of oak," to the steamers and turbines of our age of steel and iron. It is a most absorbing story, told by a man who loves his subject, and therefore well told. Few of us really know anything definite of the sea and its history, and I think all of you will be surprised to see how much

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