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Rh Shakespeares among us, yet I realize that the youthful mind naturally slants towards tragedy and the redundant phrases of the Greek and Latin masters, as read in their translation; but let me advise all you young ladies who wish to compete for the prize, to select a simple subject and treat it simply.

"Have your play display human nature as you know it, and realism without morbidness."

The girls of Central High who had heretofore excelled in composition naturally were looked upon as favorites in this race for dramatic honors. Among the Juniors, Laura Belding and Nellie Agnew always received high marks for such work. They possessed the knack of composition and were what Bobby Hargrew called "fluid writers."

"If it was a jingle or limerick, I'd stand a chance," sighed Bobby to herself. "But think of the sustained effort of writing a whole play! Gee! two hours and a half long. It would break my heart to sit still long enough to do it."

Jess Morse had never tried to more than pass in English composition. For the very reason, perhaps, that she had seen the practical side of such a career at home, she had not, like so many girls of her age, contemplated seriously literary employment for herself.


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62 Lily Pendleton was known to have once essayed an erotic novel, and had read a few chapters to some of her closer friends. Bobby said it should have been written on yellow paper with an asbestos pad under it to save scorching Miss Pendleton's desk. Of course, Lily would attempt a play in the most romantic style.

The boys began to hatch practical jokes anent the play-writing before the week was out; and one afternoon Chet Belding appeared in a group of his sister's friends, and with serious face declared he had with him the outline and introductory scene of Laura's play, its caption being:

"The Poisoned Bathing-Suit; or, The Summer Boarder's Revenge."

Some of the girls—and not alone the Juniors like Laura, Nellie and Jess—were very serious about this matter of the play. Mrs. Kerrick's prize spurred every girl who had the least ability in that direction to begin writing a dramatic piece. Some, of course, did not get far; but the main topic of discussion out of school hours among the girls of Central High was the play and the prize.

Jess talked it over with her mother, and Mrs. Morse grew highly excited.

"Why, Josephine, dear, if you could win that prize it would be splendid! Then you could

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


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Rh have a new party dress—and a really nice one—and the furs I have been hoping to buy you for two seasons. Dear, dear! what a lot of things you really could get for that sum."

"I guess it would help us out a whole lot," admitted the girl. "We need so many things"

"Why, I shouldn't allow you to use a cent of it for the household—or for me," cried her mother. "No, indeed."

"I haven't won it yet," sighed Jess. "But I guess if I did win it you'd have to take a part of it, Mother."

"Nonsense, child!" cried Mrs. Morse. "We'll have some checks in shortly. And we sha'n't starve meanwhile. Now, let us look over this plot you have evolved and perhaps I can suggest some helpful points—and show you how to write brisk dialogue. That is something the editors always praise me for—although I have never dared try a play myself. It is so hard to get a hearing before a really responsible manager."

Outside help for the girls was not debarred by the terms of the contest, so long as the main thread of plot in each play was original with the author, and she actually did the work. Jess listened to the practical suggestions of her mother in relation to her play; but all the time she had


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64 upon her mind, too, the domestic difficulties that seemed to have culminated just now in a single great billow of trouble.

No money had come in. She had been obliged to go once more to Mr. Hargrew for groceries, and to the meat store and to Mr. Vandergriff's. Her mother could talk in her cheerful manner about what she could do with the two hundred dollar prize if she earned it. But Jess was very sure that she would not spend it for personal adornment—although no girl at Central High loved to be dressed in the mode more than Jess Morse.

"If such a darling thing should happen as my winning the prize, I'd put it all in the bank for a nest-egg," she thought. "Then, when checks do not come in, we would not have to ask for credit. We'd pay up all debts and start square with the world. And then—and then I'd be perfectly happy!"

The first of the month arrived, and with it Mr. Chumley. Mrs. Morse was busy at her desk and said:

"Just tell him, Josephine, that we will have it shortly. He needn't come again. I'll let you take it around to his house to him when I get it."

But this did not suit the old man, and he


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Rh progression as the correcting lens is withdrawn from the eye. The most certain method, that of Coccius, is to hold the correcting lens close to the eye under examination; but just in that case the difference between the images in apparent myopia and in actual myopia, caused by elongation of the eye, is least apparent.

Still more important is the fact that we possess no means of measuring the size of the upright image, but can only estimate it approximately. The errors likely to be made under such circumstances may be shown by a simple experiment. Any object, say the smallest size of ordinary print, is placed at the focus of a convex lens, provided with a diaphragm, which must not be too small. If now the observer place his eye close to the lens, he perceives a visual field of a certain extent, and the objects in it magnified to a certain size. If now he withdraw his eye from the lens, he can scarcely avoid the impression that the objects become more magnified. Evidently this is an optical illusion, based upon the fact that the relations between the enlargement of the objects and the size of the visual field change to the disadvantage of the latter. The object portrayed upon the retina of the observer is, however, the virtual image of the test letters at the focus of the convex lens; but this image lies already at an infinite distance behind the convex lens, and accordingly, as regards the size of the retinal image, the withdrawal of the eye a few inches from the lens has no effect. If we prefer to assume, with Mauthner, a common optical centre for the eye and the convex lens, it is of course true that this point recedes from the retina the more the distance between the eye and the convex lens is increased; but at the same time the distance between this point and the test type behind the lens increases in the same proportion, so that the size of the retinal image is unaffected. That this last must be the case we have already proved by Fig. 25.

We have hitherto spoken only of the size of the retinal image. Generally the process has been another one, and the attempt has been to determine not the visual angle, but the enlargement, assuming a so-called "distance of distinct vision," of 8 inches. From the present stand-point of ophthalmology it seems very desirable to dispense altogether with such an antiquated idea as that


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Rh pushed his way, for once, into the presence of the literary lady.

"Now, see here! Now, see here!" he cackled. "This won't do at all, Widder—this won't do at all! I want my money, and I want it prompt. And if you can't pay your present rent prompt, how do you expect to pay it next month, when you must find three dollars more? Now, tell me that, Ma'am?"

"Really, Mr. Chumley! You are too bad," complained Mrs. Morse. "I am so hard at work. You quite drive the ideas out of my head. I—I don't know what train of thought I was following."

Mr. Chumley snorted. "You'd better be huntin' the advertisement columns of a newspaper for a job, Widder," he said. "Them 'trains of thought' of yours won't never carry you nowhere. I gotter have my money. How are you going to get it?"

"I have never failed to pay you heretofore, have I?" asked the lady, bringing out her handkerchief now. "I think this is too bad"

"But I want money!"

"And you shall have it. I have considerable owing to me—oh, yes! a good deal more than sufficient to pay your rent, Mr. Chumley. You will get it."


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66 That was a very unsatisfactory interview for the landlord, and particularly so for Mrs. Morse. She complained when he had gone to Jess:

"Now, my day is just spoiled. I'm all at loose ends. It will cost me a day's work. Really, Josephine, if only people wouldn't nag me so for money!"

And Jess strove to shield her all that she could from such interviews. Mrs. Morse needed to live alone in a world with her brain-children. Meanwhile her flesh-and-blood child had to fight her battles with the landlord and tradesmen.

It was amid such sordid troubles that Jess evolved the idea for her play. The butterfly is born of the ugly chrysalis; out of this unlovely environment grew a pretty, idyllic comedy which, although crude in spots, and lacking the professional touch which makes a dramatic piece "easy acting," really showed such promise that Mrs. Morse acclaimed its value loudly.

"Oh, Mother! don't praise me so much," begged Jess. "The theme is good, I know. But it scares me. How can I ever dress it up to make it sound like a real play? It sounds so jerky and imperfect—that part that I have written, I mean."

"There is something a dramatic critic told me once that may be true," replied her mother. "It


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Rh was that the piece which reads smoothly seldom acts well; whereas a play that 'gets over the footlights' usually reads poorly. You see, action cannot be read aloud; and it is the action that accompanies the words of a dramatic piece that makes those words tell.

"I am not sure that Mr. Sharp and his committee will consider your play the best written, from a literary standpoint; but I understand that they have invited Mr. Monterey, the manager of the Centerport Opera House, to read the plays, too. And you, Josephine, write for him; for they will depend upon his judgment in the choice of the acting qualities of the piece."

This was good advice, as Jess very well knew. And she could barely keep her mind sufficiently upon her school work to pass the eagle scrutiny of Miss Grace G. Carrington, so wrapped up was she in the play. Not even to Laura did she confide any facts regarding the piece. Some of the girls openly discussed what they had done, and what they hoped; but Jess kept still.

Thursday came and in her mother's morning mail was a letter with the card of the Centerport Courier in the corner.

"Now, what can that be?" drawled Mrs. Morse, when Jess eagerly brought it to her. "They buy no fugitive matter, and I haven't


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68 sent them anything since having my interview with Mr. Prentice. I really would have been happier to see a letter like that from one of the New York magazines; it might have contained a check in that case," and she slowly slit the envelope.

But Jess waited in the background with suppressed eagerness in her face and attitude. At once her thought had leaped to Mrs. Prentice. She had not told her mother a word about that lady's visit on Friday evening, nor her errand to the house. But if Mrs. Prentice was really "the power behind the throne" in the Courier office, she might easily put some regular work in the way of Mrs. Morse.

"Listen to this, child!" exclaimed her mother, having glanced hastily through the letter. "Perhaps I had better take this—for a time, at least. I don't like the idea of being tied down—it might interfere with my magazine work"

"Oh, Mother!" cried Jess. "What is it?"

"Listen: Addressed to me, 'Dear Madam:—Will reconsider your suggestion of covering Hill section for society news. Can afford at least five dollars' worth of space through the week, and perhaps something extra on Sunday. Come and see me again. Respectfully, P. S. Prentice.' Well!"


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Rh "Oh, Mother!" repeated Jess. "What a splendid chance!"

"Why, Josephine, not so very splendid," said her mother, slowly. "He only guarantees me five dollars weekly. That is not much."

"It will feed us—if we are careful," gasped Jess.

"Goodness, Josephine! What a horribly practical child you are getting to be. I don't know what the girls of to-day are coming to. Now, that would never have appealed to me when I was your age. I never knew how papa and mamma got food for us."

Jess might have told her that conditions had not changed much since her girlhood!

"But five dollars regularly will help us a whole lot, Mother," she urged.

"And it will necessitate my going out considerably—and appearing at receptions and places. Really—I have refused a number of invitations because of my wardrobe. My excuse of 'work' is not always strictly true," sighed Mrs. Morse.

"But do, do try it, Mother!" cried Jess.

"Well," said the lady, "it may do no harm. And it may be an opening for something better. But, really, nobody must know that I am a mere society reporter on the Centerport Courier."


text: The Girls of Central High on the Stage/Chapter 8


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Rh "There was no time to be lost, so I shouted, "Run for the boats, children, run," and the little crowd at once set off for the shore, with the two monsters in hot pursuit. I saw that the poor little weary feet could never escape unless the attention of the foe was diverted. So I waved my arms and shouted and ran close up to the engines and succeeded in drawing the pursuit on myself."

"My brave girl!" murmured William pressing her hand.

"The two creatures turned on me, and I doubled back to the wood, thinking I should soon be able to double back again and get down to the water in spite of them. But I found these engines quite different from our own, which can only turn round on turntables, or by making immense sweeps of many yards' radius. No, they turned round almost as quickly as I could; and in straight runs, even over uneven ground, their pace was much greater than mine. Still had I not been tired with two hours running and racing I think I should have got safe away. As it was I made for the wood, which was an open one consisting of great pine trunks with no undergrowth between, and


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girls of the Junior class in modern history were filing out on Friday.

"What do you know about that?" hissed Bobby Hargrew, in the ears of her chums. "Gee Gee is getting meaner and meaner every day she lives."

"What did she do to you now?" demanded Dora Lockwood, one of the twins.

"Didn't you notice? She sent Postscript to hunt up Moscow on the map of Russia. Now! you know very well that Moscow was burned in 1812!"

"You ridiculous child!" exclaimed Nellie Agnew. "You will never do anything in school but make jokes and try the patience of your teachers."

"I am no friend to teachers, I admit," confided Bobby to Dora and Dorothy. "Don't you think they ought to be made to earn their money?"


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126 running from tree to tree gave the stupid monsters the slip a score of times. Still I felt my strength gradually failing, and the monsters at length realised that if they attacked me from two sides at once they would probably catch me, as indeed they nearly did, more than once."

"Good God!" groaned I with a shudder.

"It became clear to me that if I was to save my life and ever see you all again it must be by the aid of my wits and not my legs. I looked at the great trees but their smooth trunks were quite unclimbable. Presently I came to a sort of ditch, along which I crept out of sight of the 'hounds', and so gained a few yards by throwing them out. But a very few minutes brought them close on to me again, and my legs almost refused to move further. But I would not give up while a chance remained.

"My last rush was made towards a giant tree which stood alone in a small clearing. Providence must have directed me, for it was too far from all others to give me, wearied as I was, a good chance of another rush when driven from this position, and my judgment would have led me anywhere else. I heard the snort-


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Rh "Any teacher who is so unfortunate as to have you in his, or her, class, is bound to earn all the salary coming to them," declared Dorothy.

"Bad grammar—but you don't know any better," declared the harum-scarum. "You're just as bad as Freddie Atkinson. Dimple asked him who compiled the dictionary, and Freddie said, 'Daniel Webster.'

No, sir! Noah!' snapped Dimple.

Oh, Professor!' exclaimed Fred. 'I thought Noah compiled the Ark?

As the girls were laughing over this story of Bobby Hargrew's, Eve Sitz came up briskly. Laura and Jess were near at hand, and in a moment a group of the Juniors who always "trained together" were in animated discussion.

"Yes. It's frozen hard. Otto was on it with a pair of horses and our pung," declared Eve, who came in every morning from the country on the train, and whose father owned a big farm over beyond Robinson's Woods.

"What's frozen?" demanded Dora.

"Peveril Pond. It's as smooth as glass. I want you to all come over on Saturday afternoon; we'll have a lot of fun," declared Eve.

"You're always inviting us to the farm, Evan-


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72 geline," said Nellie Agnew; "I should think your father and mother would be tired of having us overrun the place."

"Never you mind about them," declared Evangeline, smiling. "They love to have young folks around. Now, remember! Saturday at noon the autos will start from the Beldings' front door—if it doesn't snow."

"Oh, snow!" cried Bobby. "I hope not yet."

"It's too bad," said Jess, "that Mrs. Kerrick didn't offer a prize for verse. Bobby would win it, sure!"

"Never you mind," said Bobby, with mock solemnity. "I may surprise you all yet. I am capable of turning out tragic stuff—you bet your boots!"

"Mercy, Bobby! how slangy you are getting," murmured Nell Agnew, the doctor's daughter.

"You think I cannot be serious?" demanded Bobby, very gravely. "Listen here. Here is what I call 'The Lay of the Last Minorca'—not the 'Last Minstrel!'

She laid the still white form beside those that had gone before,' quoth Bobby, in sepulchral tone.


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Rh No sob, no sigh, forced its way from her heart, throbbing as though it would burst.

Suddenly a cry broke the stillness of the place—a single heartbreaking shriek, which seemed to well up from her very soul, as she left the place:

Cut, cut, cut-ah-out!"

She would lay another egg to-morrow.

"You ridiculous girl!" exclaimed Laura. "Aren't you ever serious at all?"

"My light manner hides a breaking hear-r-r-t," croaked Bobby. "You don't know me, Laura, as I really are!"

"Don't want to," declared Laura Belding, briskly. "It must be awful to be a humorist. All right, Eve. We'll come on Saturday. Chet will see Mr. Purcell about the big car. Lake Luna is frozen only at the edges, and is unsafe. But we will have a good time at Peveril Pond."

Fortunately Mrs. Morse received payment for a story in a magazine that week or Jess would never have had the heart to join the skating party. But the sum realized was sufficient to settle with Mr. Closewick, pay the month's rent of the cottage, and pay a part of each bill at Mr. Heuffler's and Mr. Vandergriff's shops.

These payments left Jess and her mother almost as badly off as they were before. And


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74 there was the new account started at Mr. Hargrew's. But Chet Belding urged Jess very strongly to be his guest on Saturday, and there was really no reason why Jess should not go. Her mother had seen Mr. Prentice and begun furnishing items to the Courier from day to day; and the girl felt that, with care, they might be able to keep from getting so deeply into debt again.

No snow had fallen up to Saturday noon; but it was cold, and the clouds threatened a feathery fall before many hours. The young folk who gathered in the big hall of the Belding house thought little of the cold, however. There were warm robes and blankets in the Belding auto and in the sightseeing machine that Mr. Purcell had sent. Chet, in his bearskin coat, looked like the original owner of the garment—especially when he pulled the goggles down from the visor of his cap, and prepared to go out to the car.

"My dear fellow," drawled Prettyman Sweet, the dandy of Central High, who was of the party, "you look howwidly fewocious, doncher know! I wouldn't dwess in such execrable taste for any sum you could mention—no, sir!"

"Beauty's only skin deep, they say, Pretty," responded Chet. "So, if you were flayed, you might look quite human yourself."


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Rh "Purt" was gorgeous in a Canadian skating suit—or so the tailor who sold it to him had called it. It was all crimson and white, with a fur-edged velvet cap that it really took courage to wear, and fur-topped boots. And his gloves! they were marvels. One of them lying on the floor of the Beldings' hall gave Topsy, Mrs. Belding's pet terrier, such a fright that she pretty nearly barked her head off.

She made so much noise that Lance grabbed at her and tried to put her out of the room, Topsy still barking furiously.

"You look out!" drawled Bobby Hargrew. "One end of that dog bites, Lance!"

They turned Purt around and around to get the beauties of his costume at every angle. And they "rigged" him sorely. But the exquisite was used to it; he would only have felt badly if they had ignored his new "get-up."

"It's quite the thing, I assure you," he declared. "And, weally, one should pay some attention to the styles. You fellows, weally, dress in execrable taste."

When the party was complete they bundled into their wraps again and piled into the machines. Mrs. Belding had retired to her own room until the "devastation of the barbarians," as she called it, was past; but Mammy Jinny


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76 straightened up the hall and dining room after the young folk with great cheerfulness.

"Yo' know how yo' was yo'self, Miss Annie, w'en yo' was oberflowin' wid de sperits ob youth," she said, soothingly.

"I am sure I never overflowed quite so boisterously," sighed Mrs. Belding.

"No. Yo' warn't one ob de oberflowin' kind, Miss Annie," admitted the old black woman. "But Mars' Chet an' Miss Laura, and dem friends ob theirs, sartain sure kin kick up a mighty combobberation—yaas'm!"

The wintry wind blew sharply past the crowd of Central High Juniors as the Belding auto and the bigger machine struck a fast pace when once they had cleared the city. There was lots of fun in the autos on the way to the Sitz farm; but they were all glad to tumble out there and crowd into the big kitchen "for a warm."

The Swiss family were the most hospitable people in the world. Eve's mother had a great heap of hot cakes ready for them, and there was coffee, too, to drive out the cold.

"We're going to take Patrick down to the pond with us to keep up the fires while we're skating," Eve told Laura. Eve looked very pretty in her skating rig, and she was a splendid skater, too. "Father and Otto are somewhere


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Rh down in the woods already. This cold weather coming on marks the time for hog killing, and some of the porkers have been running in the woods, fattening on the mast. There is an old mother hog that has gotten quite wild, and has a litter of young ones with her that are hard to catch. They may have to shoot her. So if you hear a gun go off, don't be alarmed."

The hired man, who stayed with the Sitzes all the year around, was a comical genius and the boys knew him well. As they started on the walk to the pond, Chet asked him:

"Do you skate yourself, Pat?"

"Sure, and it's an illegant skater I used to be when I was young," declared Pat; "barrin' that I niver had thim murderin' knives on me feet, but used ter skate on a bit of board down Donnegan's Hill."

"He'll never own up that he doesn't know a thing," whispered Eve to Laura and Jess, as the boys laughed over this statement of the Irishman. "He was planting potatoes in the upper field, and all by himself, last spring, and a man drove along the road, and stopped and asked him what kind of potatoes they were.

Sure, I know,' says Patrick.

Then what kind are they?' repeated the neighbor.


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78 Sure, they're raw ones, Mr. Hurley,' says he, and Hurley came to the house roaring with laughter over it. Nothing feazes Patrick."

The long, sloping hill, under the chestnuts and oaks, would have made a splendid coasting place; only there was no snow on the ground.

"But when the snow does come," cried Dora Lockwood, "if the pond is still frozen over, won't it be a great course?"

"The ice is all right now, at any rate," Eve reassured them. "And there isn't a spring hole in the entire pond, Otto says."

Patrick had brought an axe and, with the help of some of the boys, soon had a big bonfire burning on the edge of the pond. Meanwhile the other boys helped the girls with their skate-straps, and then got on their own skates.

The ice hadn't a scratch on it. It was like a great plate of glass, and so clear in places that they could see to the bottom of the pond—where the bottom was sandy.

All the young folk were soon on the ice, the boys starting a hockey game at the far end, and the girls circling around in pairs at the end nearest to the fire.

"That's what Mrs. Case, our physical instructor, says we ought to learn," said Laura, watching the boys.

"And it's jolly good fun, too," cried Bobby.


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 THE

MINISTER HAWTHORNWOLD.

BY MART W. JANVRIN, AUTHOR OP “PEACE.

CHAPTER I.

“Paul, my son, be careful of your health.”

“I will, mother!”

The speakers were a care-worn, pleasant- Toiced, elderly woman, and a young man of slight, elegant form, whose pale face with its intellectual cast of features betrayed the scholar.

They stood in the low entry of an old brown farm houseamong the country hills; and the . yellow sunlight of a September morning Hooded the fields around the little garden in the front yard where gay fall flowers bloomed, gilded the small window-panes of the old farm house, and streamed broadly into the low entry, where the mother and son stood in a parting embrace.

Giles Henderson had bidden his son good-bye early in the morning and hastened to his daily toil, for he was a rough, hard-working, almost a hard-hearted man, who never had “time to waste in idle talkin’;” but Mrs. Henderson’s dark eyes brimmed anew with tears—and it seemed, as she stood there, that she could never release the son whom she folded tenderly in her arms.

And yet, why had she cause for sorrow in bidding him farewell that morning? Was not his toiling period of scholastic life at an end?— his genius recognized, and the long-cherished wish of her heart, that she might see him a minister of the Cross, fulfilled? And why, when the prosperous church of Hawthorn wold lay within a day’s ride of his native home, and the young minister stood ready to depart for the field of his future labors, did the mother’s heart so cling to her child’s?

As the two stood there, side by side, while the driver fastened the trunks upon the stage-coach at the gate, the young man coughed slightly—a quick, nervous cough, which brought a sudden flush to his thin cheek and a perspiration to his forehead, delicate and blue-veined as a woman’s. The mother started, and looked scnrchingly into his face. That anxious gaze betrayed why she was so loath at parting, for the mother’s eye never deceives her.

“You are not strong yet, Paul. That cold has not left you. You cough still. I shall feel anxious about you.”

“Ob, I am gaining fast, mother! and I feel much stronger now the summer’s heat is over. Besides, you know I have studied hard of late— but I shall get rest in Haw thorn wold,” replied Paul Henderson, hopeftilly. “I anticipate a busy life there, it is true—but not a laborious one; for, settled among a warm-hearted, sympathizing people, who will co-operate with me in doing my Master’s work, I shall grow refreshed in body and soul. I go from you very strong in hope, mother.”

“God grant it may prove so, my son, for I shall be very anxious till I hear that you are stronger,” said the fond mother.

“Oh, I hope to return to you next spring famously improved in the outward man!” smiled the young man. “But I see the stage is waiting. Good-bye, dear mother! Don’t be anxious—I will write often,” and with a farewell kiss on a pale, furrowed cheek, while his mother’s head lay a moment on his shoulder, he passed out from the old brown farm house.

Margaret Henderson re-entered her little sitting-room, from which all the sunshine seemed departed, and sank down with a heavy sigh into a seat at the window, burying her face in her hands.

The one wish of her heart was at last realized —Paul was to be settled over his own parish, a minister of the gospel. The fruit of long years of self-denial was reaped—self-denial and rigid economy on her part, for Giles Henderson was a stern, avaricious man to his youngest son, allowing him no time or money “to waste in books or book larnin’,” because, forsooth, “he had got through the world without privileges of schooling or eddication—and if folks wanted ’em now, they’d got to put their own shoulders to the wheel and make their own way.”

Giles, his father’s namesake, and his favorite eldest son, “took” to “farming,” cattle, horses, and the rough village company—the life that best pleased Giles Henderson, senior; but Paul was “puny” and “tied to his mother’s apron string,” “and if he wanted to study metaphysics and algebra and Greek, he must do it by the sweat of his own forehead, as he had always got along through the world!”

This, alas! was poor encouragement to the ambitious boy who early began to look forward


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Rh "But suppose you turned your ankle, or fell down and tore your dress?" suggested Nellie. "I believe hockey on the ice is too rough."

"No game needs to be rough," declared Laura. "That isn't the spirit of athletics. Didn't we learn how to play basketball without being rough?"

"Even Hessie Grimes learned that," chuckled Bobby.

At that moment a gun was fired back in the thicker woods, and then out of the brush the girls saw an animal charging directly for the pond. Patrick saw it, too, and leaped up from before the fire and ran toward the beast.

"It's a big hog!" cried Bobby.

"That's the one they want to catch," said Eve. "She is ugly, too, I believe." Then she raised her voice in warning to Patrick: "Look out, Patrick! She is real cross."

"Faith!" returned the Irishman, half squatting down in the path of the charging sow. "It's not afraid I be of the likes of a pig. 'Tis too many of their tails I've twisted in ould Ireland, to run from wan in Ameriky"

Just then the animal spied him and went for Patrick, full tilt. There wasn't time for the Irsihman to dodge; but he did spread his legs, and the angry mother-hog ran between them.


text: The Girls of Central High on the Stage/Chapter 9


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DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN THEE?

the medder hoeing corn. He was alters sneakin' out te git nigh her somehow. Didn’t seem to be contented if he wan’t putty close.

“I was a-spinnin’ stocking yarn to foot yer uncle Joshua’s mixed stockings—they was all good but the heels, and them was kinder wore through, and I thought it was best to foot ’em. Some folks would a heeled ’em, I ’spose, but I don’t think much of heeled stockings; they’re kinder hard to yer feet, especially if you’re trou¬ bled with corns.

“Wall, I was spinnin’ away, and hummin’ a tune at the same time. I’m a master hand to hum tunes, it helps my work along ’mazingly to have it sot to music, so. All to once, right in the middle of the tone—Cornation, I believe it was; no, I won’t be certain but what it was Lennox— or it might have been Bileston—I ain’t railly denied which ’twas—I hurd a scream! It made my hair stan’ rite up. Then there was another, and another—every one, ns Ichabod sez, ‘nearer, clearer, awfuller than before!' I knowed well euuff it was somebody somewhere! In a minnit I thought of Scraphina. She was etarnally git- tin’ into difficulty of some kind, and I thought ’twas jest as likely as not she’d been and done it wuss than ever! I dropt my yarn and run as fast as I could in the direction of the sound. On, on, I went like an offended comio, a-streamin’ of it for dear life, for the critter hollered so heart-broken like, that I knowed she must be in an awful perdicament somewhere*!

“ ‘Hold on a minnit! Seraphina!’ sez I, * don’t die jest yet! I’m a most there! and on I went!’

“Cum to git there, I thought I should a’ killed

myself a-laffin’! The ter’ble scene of the per¬ formance was the frog-pond in our pastur’, and rite in the middle of the pond was Seraphina, perched up on a rock, as peart as Nathan’s pig! She’d hollered till she was putty nigh used up, and looked more like a wilted cabbage-plant than anything I ever seed. Rite on the edge of the pond was Squire Dobb’s big, grey gobbler, a-gabblin’ and stretchin’ out his neck like all possest! Seraphina had on a wide, red scar and turkeys can’t bear red, ye know; and so the gobbler had run after her and her sash, till he’d skaired her nigh about out of her wits! She’d scampered till she’d pretty well killed herself and when she cum to the frog-pond, she never minded, she said, but put rite ahead, thinkin’ Satan hisself was after her! The gobbler das- sent trust hisself in the water, but he wouldn’t give up the chase, and there he stood bristling his feathers and scoldin’ away, jest for all the worl<f like Squire Dobb’s wife! She’s the awful- lest scolder that ever lived! It’s well the squire is deaf—I should be glad and thankful for it if I was in his place!

“I took a stick and lambed that gobbler out of sight, and then I cum back to Seraphina. Ichabod got there jest as I did, and he made no fuss at all, but took off his coat, rolled up his trousis, and waded rite in after her! He lugged her out as keerful as could be, and sot her down on the grass to dry.

“I do believe that kind a skeered Ichabod. After that he sed little to Seraphina. So she fell in love with Jim Grannie, and ’sloped with him.”

DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN THEE?

BY IRS. HARB‘ET BOOKSH- BARBER. Do you think I have forgotten thee, Old mansion, far away? Where thou stnndest in brooding stillness Looking sadly on the day— Looking darkly on its sunlight, Till the gladdt-st ray that falls Flits wnnly as some spirit Within thy echoing halls— Thy halls, that once with music rang, And voices young and free, Ohl their melody comes back to me Across the sounding see. In my dreumings oft I see then now, As in the days gone by, When I looked upon thee proud and fond, With cliildhood’s reverent eye; When I thought no world without could be Like the bright world lived within, Where my young life blossomed like thy ﬂowers, And my heart know little sin;

Oh! thy roses and thy glories bright, I have watched with ardent eye To see them up thy dear, old walls Creep lovingly and high; They sleep forgotten and alone Within a scentless bed, Like the sweet, youngI human blossoms That dear old home has shed. Those pictured forms and faces dear, All radiant with mirth, Just as in life‘s dissolving view They faded from the earth. How often in the quiet hush Thoy steal upon my sight, With a sweet and trembling hrightnen, Like the stars upon the night; Then my spirit eyes look upward, Though the foolish heart will stray To a dear, old, silent mansion, I remember far away.


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 of lead still ingredient rises with other impurities to the surface of the melted lead and is scooped away carefully. The pure metal is then finally cast into small iron cans, or into sheaves and cakes. Lead is also obtained from litharge, produced by the cupellation process of silver, by smelting the litharge with charcoal, to reduce the oxide of lead.

The silver ores met with in Japan, are:—

1.— (silver moss). The ore seems to occur but seldom in Japan. We saw it only once in a small quantity. It does not serve for the extraction of silver.

2.— ( or ; Syn. Sudzuno-yani, Mategara). This valuable silver-ore is found, though only in small quantities, in the mountain Beai, in the province Jö in Ginsan of Iwami, in Tadayama in the province of Setsu. It produces some silver but much less than the following ore, which is the chief silver-mineral of Japan.

3.— (or ) a very compound mineral, mentioned already. This ore is worked both with copper and silver. It occurs in several places in Japan.

4.— with a variable but small amount of silver sulphiae. This ore is also used in silver-metallurgy. The last mentioned silver-ores are found and worked at the following places in Japan. At most of these places the production of silver is, however, exceedingly small.

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The amount of silver smelted in Japan between the 15th and 17th centurycenturies [sic] was by no means small; the Portuguese and the Dutch in the first years only of their trade with Japan, exported large quantities of this precious metal. In the year 1671, the export of silver was prohibited by the Japanese Government. It is a well known fact that in later times very little silver has been found and smelted in Japan. Lead, which contains a small quantity of silver and blister copper (ara-do) or metal mixtures, obtained from grey copper-ore, from the mine material for the metallurgy of silver. Formerly the separation of silver from lead or copper was effected chiefly in the Government refinery at Osaka, but in latter times it has also been carried on in other places. The

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 process used by the Japanese does not differ much in principle from our Western method. The whole working is divided into four stages:

1st.—Smelting of the metal containing silver with a certain quantity of lead, in order to dissolve the silver by means of the melted lead and to obtain a compound metal, called, copper smelted together [with lead]:

2nd.—Heating of this alloy in a kind of liquation furnace with an inclined bottom, to carry off the lead and silver in a liquid state as (lead which has run out [of the alloy].]). [sic] The copper and other leas fusible metals remain in on unmelted condition, as porous masses, at the bottom of the furnace. This porous metal is called (copper smelted after the manner of the southern barbarians.)

3rd.—Cupellation in a low furnace with a bottom of buck-ashes, in order to obtain raw silver, called (silver smelted upon ashes).

4th.—Refining or second cupellation in a small furnace. The old PortugesePortuguese [sic] had very probably made known this operation to the Japanese. Bürger (l.c.) states that the Japanese used in olden times another (Chinese) desilvering process, but this method was not very profitable and could only be used with rich ores. This old process is dessribed in an ancient Chinese Leehrols gy, called Ten-ko-kei-butsu. About the year 1590 a foreigner (Portuguese?) named Haku-Sin shewed a Japanese called Sumitomo the manner of separating silver from lead or copper, even when it occurs in a small quantity only. Sumitomo introduced the new process into his metallurgical works, rose in wealth and power, and got an Imperial patent for the purification of copper and separation of silver from lead and copper. He lived with his family in Osaka and took the family name of Haku-sui, in addition to his own, in honour of and out of gratitude to the foreigner. Bürger believes, and we think rightly, that the foreigner Haku-sui must have been a Portuguese, because the name namban-bukido (copper smelted after the

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 manner of the southern barbarians) for the porous metal mass, left after the extraction of the lead, and the year 1590 gives some reasonable ground for this belief.

We will now proceed to the description of the desilvering process.

1st.—The silver containing raw metal (blister-copper, etc.) is mixed with variable quantities of lead (according to the amount of silver) and the whole smelted with a charcoal-fire in a small furnace of fire-proof clay. The fluid metal is then cast in round or square plates, and leaves the name of awase-buki-do.

2nd.—This alloy (awasi-buki-do) is now placed on the inclined bottom of a small liquation furnace and the whole heated gradually. The bad metal with the dissolved silver flows off from the bottom in a liquid state, de namari, whilst the copper and other less fusible metals remain in a solid condition on the hearth. Thus the lead and silver are separated from the copper and other metals. The porous masses which remain on the bottom, are afterwards smelted and purified, to obtain dry copper from them.

3rd.—The cupellation or separation of lead and silver is effected in a low furnace, with a loose covering: on account of its form, this furnace is called a “toad furnace.” The bottom of this furnace consists of a fire-proof plane, covered with a high layer of sifted wood-ashes.

The family Sumitomo exists still in Osaka. At the house of the present head of the family, in Osaka, Nagahori ichome, may be seen several old documents in relation to this fact, and also a collection of old presents, given by the former Dutch Embassies to Sumitomo when they paid the customary visit to his copperworks.

Previously washed with water to extract the soluble matter, this ash floor is stamped and levelled with great care. In the middle a small round cavity is made, to receive the smelted metal. This ash floor is carefully dried and heated in order that there may be no chinks by which the silver might be lost. The alloy of lead and silver is then placed on the bottom, the furnace is closed with a low covering of fine clay and the whole strongly

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 heated, till the metal flows. At this high temperature the lead is oxidized and gradually absorbed as oxide by the porous material of the ash floor. The red oxide of lead or litharge forms at the end one solid mass with the bottom and is called then Mitsuda-do or Gin-rokasu, Syn. Shiro-kané-ro-nerisoko. This mixture of ash and litharge is afterwards worked for lead, for which purpose it only wants to be smelted with some charcoal, to reduce the oxide of lead. During this operation the silver is not oxidized and is therefore not absorbed by the porous ash-bottom. At last the silver, mixed with a little oxide of lead and lead metal, remains in the cavity of the cupel bottom. The furnace is then allowed to cool. The remaining metal is finally cooled with water and taken away. It bears the name of hai-buki-gin (silver smelted upon ash).

4th.—Refining the silver.

The cake of impure silver is placed in another small cupellation furnace with a fresh ash-bottom. The heat must be regulated carefully, otherwise the silver would be partly thrown away by the sudden discharge of absorbed oxygen. When nearly the whole of the lead and other impurities have been absorbed by the porous cupel, the surface of the silver becomes iridescent, a phenomenon which is caused by very thin films of oxide of lead. Immediately afterwards the silver obtains a splendid, bright surface which serves as a sign of its purity. The metal is then cooled with water and taken away.

The process here described resembles closely, as already has been said, our cupellation method, the construction of the furnaces and especially its bottom being the only differences.

The ameliorated cupellation, known as Pattinton’s desilvering process, by which even minim quantities of silver can be extracted with advantage, is as yet unknown in Japan.

The amalgamation process, which is used on a large scale in Freiburg and in America, has found no practical application in Japan. GEERTS.

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 276

THE OLD STONE MANSION.

did not enter, for they looked dangerous, and smelt damp and fetid. None had any furniture in. I was forced to conclude that Mr. Bentley slept in an out-house.

In my walks I met the old woman, who had waited on us the day before. It seemed as if the advent of Mr. Bentley, with his sinister look, had cast a glamour over the place which affected everything; for this servant, who, had seemed, when I first saw her, only a vulgar-looking cook and maid-of-all-work, now wore a hag-like expression, which made my blood run cold. Toothless, blear-eyed, withered, with long, skinny he is inflexible.” And saying this, I went up fingers, and already beut by age, she came upon me so suddenly, as I turned the angle of the house, that I started with a slight, involuntary scream, as if I had seen a witch.

In the course of my further researches, I de tected, at the rear of the hall, a massive door leading to the right, and saw that it conducted to a large apartment, the only room, on that side of the house, not plainly a prey to bats and owls. But whether it was in decay or not I failed to  discover, for I could not get admittance into it  from any point, as it was protected outside by     wooden shutters, firmly bolted within, and though a door led into it from the front room, which had been used as a dining hall in the palmy days of the mansion, that, also, was now tightly locked. As I was trying the fastenings of this door, the old servant who seemed to be prowling about watching me, came up and told me the room was nailed up, and had not been used for twenty years.

When I had exhausted the mansion, I went to the out-houses, but still found no place, except a hay-loft, where Mr. Bentley could have slept The out-houses were as ruinous as the mansion itself, being mostly covered with moss, or over¬ grown with briars or poison vines, while between the cracks in their gaping walls, green, slimy lizards ran in and out.

Georgiana still kept her room, when I had finished these explorations, and I knocked in  vain for admittance. She had a violent sick head-ache, she said, wouldn’t I excuse her till dinner-time?” The dinner would be at five o’clock, a late dinner to be sure, but Arthur had promised to return by that hour.” She thought if she could get a little sleep she would be quite well again. Poor thing 1 I read it all. She was exhausted by weeping, and fancied that by secluding herself and courting sleep, she could come out at dinner-time, looking freshly, and so deceive me and her husband.

My only chance of avoiding thought was to keep myself occupied. So, when I found that Georgiana was not coming down, l resolved to go into the city, and inquire where, or how, I  could get work. It had to be done at some time; for I was determined not to be dependent. Why not at once?

I hesitated, at first, thinking that Mr. Talbot might, possibly, relent, and that a note might come from him iu my absence. But my pride whispered, that, in such an event, my triumph would be the greater if I was away. Triumph!” I said to myself, immediately after,  ah! he will never write: there will be no triumph for me; he is inflexible.” And saying this, I went up stairs for my bonnet. I was torn by conflicting emotions: now angry at him for what I called his tyranny and obstinacy, now more than half  convinced that it was I who had been exacting.

I had talked, often and bravely, of what a true woman could do, in spite of the social injustice   that beset her path, if left to provide for herself, I tried, as I walked toward the city, to recall all this and to assure myself that the task before me  was an easy one. I had only to will it, I said, and all difficulties would disappear. There was nothing menial in working for one’s bread:  nothing in the mere act of asking for employment, that should call a blush to the face. But when I reached the place where I had determined  to make my first application, my heart failed me. It was a picture dealer’s, where I hoped to dis¬ pose of a few water-color sketches, which I in¬ tended to paint. But I walked past the store, two or three times, before I could muster courage to go in. When, at last, I did enter, and nervously told my errand, the rough, curt way in which I was told that there was no demand for such things now,” made every vein tingle with alternate shame and indignation. I had to school myself, for more than an hour, before I could venture on a second attempt elsewhere: and here the answer was the same.

I do not, in writing this autobiography, seek to extenuate myself. I ought not, I know, to have been either angry or ashamed. My reason told me so, even then. But we are flesh and blood, not mathematical machines. We feel ths 8tings of pride, we resent insult, and this the more readily, the more unhappy and friendless we are. To be poor is no crime, but, in the world’s eye at least, it is a stigma. To go about, morning after morning, week after week, solicit¬ ing employment, when all avenues are filled, often meeting rudeness and nearly always coldnoss, in no small cross for a woman to bear. - Those who have been accustomed to it, all their lives, feel it to be such. It was worse for me. It was the worse for one proud like I was; for pride was


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278

THE OLD STONE MANSION.

“Do you believe it?” and I looked at her keenly.

“I sometimes think he may be a gambler, or some such thing,” she answered, a little embar¬ rassed. “He don’t act the real gentleman, now does he, Maggy?”

“I don’t think he does.”

“He hasn’t the manner of Arthur. Few have.”

“No. He hasn’t Mr. Despenoer’s manner.”

“I sometimes wish Arthur was not so inti¬ mate with him. I wonder if they ever play.”

“I hope not,” I said, for I saw how distressed the idea made her; and to divert her thoughts, I added, “By-the-bye, where does Mr. Bentley sleep, when he comes here?”

Georgians laughed. I had not heard her laugh so gleefully since she was a child.

“I’m sure I don’t know. I’m keeping house, and don’t know where my guests sleep—isn’t it fbnny? Arthur told me, I remember now, not to trouble myself about it, for that old Jane would settle it all: and I never did trouble myself.” And she laughed again.

The conversation ceased here, but as we sat at the tea-table, that night, Georgiana suddenly looked up, and said to Mr. Despencer,

“Arthur, where does Mr. Bentley Bleep, when he comes here?”

Her husband had his cup raised to his lips, in the very act of drinking. He paused, and looked keenly at me, as if divining where the question originated.

“You don’t answer me,” said Georgiana. “And why do you stare so at Maggy ?”

“Excuse me. I had not heard you. I wasn’t aware I was staring at anybody. What was it you asked?”

I knew well enough that he had heard her. But Georgians, completely deceived, repeated the question.

“Oh! in the front garret to be sure,” he an¬ swered, promptly. “Old Jane has the back one, you know.”

But I had been in the front garret, the morn¬ ing after Mr. Bentley’s first visit, and there was not an article of furniture in it, nor did it look as if anybody had slept on the floor. A tempo¬ rary couch, however, might have been arranged, and removed before I saw the room. Yet I half believed that the whole was an invention of Mr. Despencer’s, and that he had paused to get time to think what to say. I was entirely convinced of this, the day after this conversation, for, when I stole up to the garret, drawn thither by noises l had hoard after I retired, I found that a bed¬ stead, and a few other articles of chamber fur- niture, bad been arranged there; and as I recog- nized one or two of the chairs, which I had seen in Georgian a’s room, I knew that Mr. Despencer, to blind me, had caused the apartment to be fitted up.

i But why should he blind me? Why was there any necessity for a mystery ? My thoughts re- verted to the closed chamber. But even if that was where Mr. Bentley slept, why should there be any attempt to conceal it? What was the tie between him and Georgiana’s husband? It was 1 more than mere friendship, I felt assured. Did they share some dark and terrible Becret to- gether, with which, in some way, the closed chamber was connected?

I had resided with Georgiana about four s months, when Mr. Despencer said, one evening, that he had to visit a neighboring city, and would be gone for a week.

“I would like to take you, Georgy,” he said, addressing his wife, “if Miss Gray will keep house while we’re gone,”

s “Oh! I should bo delighted,” said my cousin, 5 for, poor child! any kindness from her husband almost set her wild.

s I thought immediately of Mr. Bentley, for he had been so marked in his attentions lately, and was so deficient, I believed, in a nice sense of s propriety, that I feared he would take advantage of this absence to annoy me more than ever, j But I hesitated to mention this, my only objec- tion to the proposed arrangement, for I saw how disappointed Georgiana would be. s “ May we count on your keeping house, then?” s said Mr. Despencer.

I still hesitated, but an appealing look from % Georgiana decided me, and I answered in the affirmative. I never saw a happier being than my cousin was, for the rest of that evening.

The next day, when Mr. Despencer had de-

> parted to the city, I frankly told Georgiana, she would oblige me, if Mr. Despenoer would hint to his friend, that, during their absence, he should

dispense with his visits to the mansion.

“Your husband can do it in a way to avoid offence,” I said, in conclusion, “and I don’t want to offend any of his friends.”

Georgiana promised, but added,

> “You don’t seem to like Mr. Bentley any better, I’m sorry to see.”

n “Do you like him better?”

She looked confused. I saw her husband hod been talking her over.

“Oh! yes. Arthur assures me, on his honor, that they never ploy; and Mr. Bentley is really very handsome and very polite.”

I made no answer. Georgiana went on.


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Via HONOLULU

By the Steamers of the

AND THE

S. S. Korea

S. S. Siberia

S. S. Mongolia

S. S. Manchuria

S. S. China

S. S. Doric

S. S. Coptic

S. S. Gaelic

Leave San Francisco alternately, about every ten days, for Honolulu, Yokohama and Hong Kong, calling at Kobe, Nagasaki, and Shanghai, and connecting with steamers for Siberia, Korea; also, for the northern ports oof [sic] China, the Philippine Islands, Straits Settlements, India and Australia.

Direct steamer to Manila every three weeks.

Full information will be furnished by any of the principal railroad offices and tourist agencies in the United States, and prompt attention will be paid to written or telegraphic requests for reservations, information, etc.


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The Tempest, II. i

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,

To excel the golden age.

Seb. 'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon. And,—do you mark me, sir?

Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk

nothing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and

did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen,

who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that

they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling am

nothing to you; so you may continue and laugh

at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given!

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle:

you would lift the moon out of her sphere,

if she would continue in it five weeks without

changing.

Seb. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.

Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure

 170 it: its

foison: plenty

181 sensible: sensitive

nimble: easily excited

188 An: if

flat-long: flat (a blow struck with the flat of a sword)

189 mettle: temper

190 out of her sphere; cf. n.

193 a-bat-fowling: bird hunting at night

195 adventure: risk

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girls, who were nearest the end of the lake, watched Patrick and the old hog in amazement. The boys came down from the far end with a chorus of yells and laughter.

For the Irishman, leaping up with his feet apart, descended on the back of the charging animal, with his face toward her tail!

The porker grunted her displeasure, and Patrick did some grunting, too; but he was not easily scared—nor would he be shaken off. He locked his arms tightly around the animal's body and hugged her neck with his legs, so that she could not bite him.

The creature kept up a deafening squealing, while out of the bush rushed Dandy, the farmer's dog. The boys came sweeping in from the lake to join in the sport—sport to everybody but the pig and Patrick! But Dandy got into the scrimmage first.

True to his instinct, the dog attempted to seize


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Rh the hog by the ear, but miscalculated and caught Patrick by the calf of the leg!

"Moses and all the children of Israel!" bawled the Irishman. Tis not fair to set two bastes onto wan! Call off yer dawg, Otto, or it's the death of him I'll be when I git rid of the hog."

But just then the poor hog got rid of him. She lay down and Patrick tumbled off, kicking at the dog. Dandy seemed much surprised to discover that he had locked his teeth on the wrong individual!

The boys were convulsed with laughter; but the girls were afraid that the Irishman had been seriously hurt. And, from the squealing of the hog, they were positive that she was suffering.

However, Mr. Sitz and Otto appeared, and tied the legs of the struggling beast, and so bore her away. They had already trapped her litter of young ones, and Patrick limped after his master and Otto, vowing vengeance against both the hog and the dog.

So the boys took turns in keeping up the fire on the shore, for although it was a clear day, the wind continued cold and blew hard. They were all glad to hover around the blaze, now and then; and especially so when they ate their luncheons.


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82 Eve had prepared a great can of chocolate and the girls had all brought well-filled lunch boxes. Bobby was hovering about Laura's as soon as it was opened.

"Mammy Jinny's made you something nice, I know," she said. "Dear me, I'm so hungry! I wish I was like the Mississippi River."

"What's that for?" demanded Prettyman Sweet, who overheard her. "Like the Mississippi? Fawncy!"

"Then I'd have three mouths," exclaimed Bobby, immediately filling the mouth she did possess.

"My word! that wouldn't be so bad an idea, would it?" proclaimed Purt, who was a good deal of a gourmand himself.

"I don't think much of this jam pie," complained Chet, holding up a wedge that he had taken from his sister's basket.

"That's not jam pie!" exclaimed Laura. "Whoever heard of jam pie?"

"Yep. This is it," declared Chet "The crusts are jammed right together. There ain't enough filling."

The wind increased toward the end of the day and it was hard to skate against it; but the young folk had a lot of fun sailing down the length of the pond with their coats spread for sails.


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Rh "That was a great scheme you suggested about the kite the other day, Laura," declared Lance Darby. "It was as good as an aeroplane."

"What would be the matter with hitching the kite to our scooter?" suggested Chet, who overheard him.

The two chums owned a small iceboat which went, on Lake Luna, by the name of "scooter."

"Say, old man! I've got a better scheme than that!" cried Lance, suddenly.

"What say?"

"Let's combine a flying machine with an iceboat and beat out everybody on the lake this winter?"

"Wow!" shouted his chum. "Now, you've been skating with Mother Wit and have caught her inventive genius—it's contagious. Gee! what an idea!"

"That's all right. Wait till you hear my scheme," said Lance, wagging his head.

"It ought to work fine," said Bobby Hargrew, with serious face. "All you will have to do when you are sailing along the ice and come to open water will be to turn a switch and jump right into the air. Save getting your feet wet."

"Laugh all you want to," said Lance, threateningly. "When we get it done you girls will be glad enough to ride in it."


text:
Page:Girls of Central High on the Stage.djvu/94

84 "Not I!" cried Nellie Agnew. "I wouldn't ride on your old scooter as it is. And to combine a flying machine and iceboat—whew! I guess not."

The boys became enthusiastic, however, and they talked about it all the way home. Lance, however, kept the important idea regarding the new invention for Chet Belding's private ear.

Jess Morse enjoyed the outing that Saturday, as she always enjoyed such fun when with the Beldings; but, after all her mind was on her play. She almost lived that play nowadays!

And, to tell the truth, she began to neglect some of her studies in her concentration of mind upon "The Spring Road." Her mother praised it warmly.

"To think that I should have a daughter who may turn out to be a real genius!" cried Mrs. Morse. "Although it is so hard to get a play accepted by a first-class producer."

"No. I don't want to be a genius," said Jess shaking her head. "But I do want awfully to win that prize."

"Such a sordid child," said her mother, playfully. "I cannot imagine one's putting such emphasis on mere money. It isn't genius, after all, I fear. Our friends would call you eminently


text:
Page:Girls of Central High on the Stage.djvu/95

Rh practical, I suppose," and the irresponsible lady sighed.

But if Jess had no impractical thoughts regarding why she wished to win the prize, she made the mistake, just the same, of letting Miss Carrington catch her two or three times in recitation hour. Gee Gee was down on her like a hawk.

"Miss Morse, what does this mean?" demanded the stern teacher, eyeing Jess with particular grimness through her thick spectacles.

She had called the culprit to her desk just before the noon recess and now showed her the enormity of her offenses.

"You are falling back. There is something on your mind beside your textbooks, that is very sure, Miss Morse. I cannot lay it to athletics at present, I suppose, for there seems to be a slight let-up in the activities of you young ladies in that direction," and she smiled her very scornfullest smile. Miss Carrington abhorred athletics.

"But we have another matter interfering with the placid current of our school life. Are you, Miss Morse, one of the young ladies who are attempting to write a play?"

"Ye—yes, ma'am," stammered Jess, blushing to her ears.


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Page:Girls of Central High on the Stage.djvu/96

86 "Ah! so I thought. I believe I can pick out all these playwrights by a reference to their recitation papers. And this afternoon comes our mid-term examination. Let me tell you, Miss Morse, that you must do better this afternoon, or I shall take your case up with Mr. Sharp."

She was folding and tying with a narrow ribbon some papers as she spoke, and her eyes snapped behind her glasses.

"These are the questions in my hands now, Miss Morse," said Gee. "And let me tell you, they are searching ones. Be prepared, Miss—be prepared!"

And she popped them into the top drawer on the right-hand side of her desk. But before she could shut down the roll top and so lock the desk, Miss Gould appeared at the door of the room and beckoned to Miss Carrington. The latter rose hurriedly and departed, leaving her desk open. And likewise leaving Jess Morse, her hungry eyes fixed upon that drawer in which the examination questions lay!

Just a peep at those papers might have helped Jess a whole lot in the coming hour of trial.


text:
Page:Papers of William Shakespeare Hall, 1861–1895.pdf/105

 DEC. 15.

Went to Bay; & at last on board. Butcher told me all goods &c were landed belonging to station except 1 bag of potatoes. Returned to W's.

DEC. 16.

sent dray for box, & waited for papers &c, when it could not be found.

DEC. 17.

Came home. by way of station, Tucker & Albert, since he came home on the 14 th, having been at work on building & odd jobs, & Lewington employed with drays for Mr. Taylor since the 14th.

DEC. 18.

Sunday. Dogs went out hunting by themselves, & A hearing them, brought in a very fine kangaroo.

DEC. 19.

Building. A after cattle.

DEC. 20.

The same. A saw all the cattle. Harry (native) shot 9 ducks & teal. "Aurifera" arrived.

DEC. 21.

The same. Lewington came home having carted Mr. T's goods to W's. After Albert brought in horses, (self) started for Bay to assist in unloading "Aurifera", telling A & L to follow as soon as possible with team.


text: The Girls of Central High on the Stage/Chapter 10


text: Index:The National geographic magazine, volume 1.djvu


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/83

83 your iPhone doesn't save it that way.

So I have told this committee already there are two gentlemen who I didn't know the names of that were Oath Keeper volunteers. They were at the bottom of the stack of my security detail. And when I say my security detail, it could apply to me as a person or whatever group I was with, I do not recall this exchange. And the red flag to me here is that there are two different names Ali Akbar and Ali Alexandra cannot occupy the same space on an iPhone.

 * BY

Mr. Alexander, on Exhibit 22, do you see the little picture next to the Ali Akbar character. Is that your face or is it your position that that's not your face?

That is a picture of me. That's a publicly available picture of me from Georgia in the 2000s.

So sitting here you have no memory of this and it is your position that it is not you on that text chain?

My position is what I stated.

No, no. I'm asking you, yes or no, is it your position that it is not you on the text chain in Exhibit 22?

My position is that I do not recall this text exchange, that there were two Oath Keepers given to me at the bottom of my security stack. If these are the two gentlemen, then I will have to take someone else's word for it. I don't remember. I'm getting their names. I meet a lot of people, I met tens of thousands of people on the 5th and 6th, me personally. And I would just like to finish. But the discrepancy of evidence, like this wouldn't be admitted to court. You have my name is Ali Akbar here.

I totally understand.

I just want to finish. No, I would like to finish.


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/84

84 I don't want to interrupt you. This is important, because this isn't court. And I respect that there is a lot of prep and I really do respect that—

No, it's not prep, this is me.

I get that, but it is important that this is not court. And I don't want you to waste a lot of time, and, frankly, lawyers' fees, on objecting to things that aren't relevant to our situation. I just need to know are you saying here today that you don't believe that's you having that conversation, is it your position that's not me. That's a yes or no.

My position is that I do not recall this text exchange.

. Thank you.

 * BY

Before I go on, who is Mr. Nathan Martin?

Nathan Martin is a friend of mine that I've known, I think, for a decade and he's not really a big Trump fan. And when Stop the Steal was growing faster than I could by myself kind of coordinate, he volunteered to help coordinate some of that stuff, or I recruited him to help coordinate some of that stuff, because he's really good at logistics. And he runs, like, a travel agency so we were able to book stuff through him.

So he helps you, like, book travel for various events?

Yeah.

Did he book your travel—actually, did he book other people in Stop the Steal's travel as well, in addition to you?

Like I said, Stop the Steal is me. But if I asked him to book someone else, he would book it.

Okay. So can you go to Exhibit 21 then.

And go to the third page of Exhibit 21. So you've already said you stayed at the JW Marriott on January 6th. The first name on the third page appears to say Akbar/Ali.


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/85

85 This would be you staying at the JW Marriott, right? And it is double-sided?

Okay.

I'm sorry.

Yes.

Okay. And we mentioned in the text message from Stephen Brown earlier about personal security. There is that Tom Burgess name under the Stop the Steal room block. So did he stay in your—you're not going to deny that he stayed in your room block, right?

According to these records, that seems to be what it suggests.

Okay. And if you go to two pages ahead, there is going to be a Jeff Morelock, correct?

Two pages? I'm sorry.

In the same exhibit, there is an individual in the Stop the Steal room block named Jeff Morelock—

This paperwork says that he was staying in the same room with this Tom Burgess.

Okay. So let's he go back to Exhibit 14—not 14, sorry. I misspoke. Let's go back to Exhibit 22, the one you were just saying you cannot confirm whether that is you. The room block listings we just looked at is consistent with Stephen Brown saying "room needed for Ali PSD guys at the JW in the name of Jeff Morelock and Tom Burgess," correct?

That's what you've shown me, yes.

So let's go back to Exhibit 18 in the Signal chat. Do you know who OK Gator 1 is?

No. That's someone who works with Stewart Rhodes. At first I thought


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/86

86 OK meant Oklahoma, but I like your description better, Oath Keepers.

And you so you didn't know the name Kelly Meggs?

Kelly Meggs?

Who?

Kelly Meggs. You didn't know that name?

Yes.

That name is not ringing a bell at all and I don't see it on this sheet.

Okay. What about, did you know Mr. Don Seikerman, he's on this chat on the bottom.

No, I don't. I'm not familiar with that name right now, and I don't remember ever being familiar with that name.

Do you still have these Signal chats?

I don't believe so.

Okay. Let's go to Exhibit 12, so it appears on January 4th that Mr. Stephen Brown forwarded you a list and he says, "This is the list of PSD we have working with us and their names/nicknames from Signal.

Mr. Kamenar. Sorry. What exhibit is this?

Mr. . This is 12.

 * BY

Is your email address?

That is my email address.

And Nathan Martin, would refer probably I am assuming to the Nathan Martin you just discussed who does did your logistics for Stop the Steal?

Yeah, he did some of the logistics. I believe that is his email address.


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/87

87 And do you recall receiving this email?

I do not recall receiving this email. And I can tell you why I don't recall it.

Why don't recall it?

January 4th, 2021 at 5:55 p.m. I was in Georgia, helping out in the runoff. I don't know that I ever saw this email. I was working on run off, helping out with events on the 5th and the 6th, doing Georgia logistics, and trying to get my butt D.C. the 7 next morning by 6 a.m. So I don't recall ever seeing this email. And, you know, I see here it says "Gator Kelly Meggs." When you said it the first time I thought Kelly was a woman. And this suggests that it's a guy.

 * BY

Can I ask you something? Does that mean that you would have allowed Stephen Brown and Nathan Martin to coordinate this with you on your behalf while were you busy in Georgia?

It could, because as I've testified to this committee, this is like such a volunteer organic effort. We are not getting our marching orders from Trump or the RNC. And so there's a lot of labor of love which requires a lot of delegation. And I trust Steve Brown, Stephen Brown and Nathan Martin to be professionals and to do the right thing. And they are both Christian and I'm a Christian. And I don't—I don't mess around with details like this when I don't have to. And sometimes, I'll fly into a conversation and then I'm out, but that's why they have group conversations, so that other people can take it—take it from me.

I just wanted to clarify because I think earlier you said you were the one person for Stop the Steal, so for them to do this, you believe they had your authority to act on your behalf to make these arrangements without your knowledge—without you seeing this, they could make these arrangements.


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/88

88 I'm the only person with Stop the Steal, LLC. I didn't give anybody else a directorship or officership, or—and no one else was really given political making powers. So logistics stuff I rely on people I pay, or volunteers who have that in their talent stack.

 * BY

So just humor me, there appears to be what 20 or so names in the list that Mr. Brown forwards to you on January 4th. Is that right? And you can take time to look it over.

That's what this email kind of shows. And it's an email that I don't recall seeing. I probably—this is probably in my inbox as unread. And I don't—I don't recall seeing this, but I also don't see anything wrong with it, so.

Why would I need that many security folks for January 6th?

Well, I think I've testified on the record already that I needed two at least with my party. And then we just needed bodies for the perimeter of Lot 8 so that it didn't get out of control, because you're not allowed rope lines. So this is about you don't have equipment, what do you have? You have human bodies.

So these folks were supposed to, like, kind of protect the perimeter of Lot 8 on January 6th?

That's what I've tasked Stephen Brown with, and that's why they are coordinating together.

And these are the Oath Keepers that you talked to Mr. Rhodes about from November of 2020 when you met him in Atlanta—

I'm sorry. I missed it because of the cough.

These individuals, these are all Oath Keepers, and I'm presuming this is coming from your relationship Mr. Rhodes from November of 2020?

Oh, no. No, that would be the wrong presumption. I don't have anything


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/89

89 to do with the Oath Keepers. They are a veterans group that has volunteered services for other speakers associated with me and me. And so, I can't confirm this list the people for you, because I'm not a part of their organization. And the only reason I would think that we would need these names is because, you know—and look, some of them are missing names. So it is kind of weird to me, it's like that's not my—that's—I needed people to watch my stage. If they were Oath Keepers, or if they were Moms for America or whatever, we needed people as a perimeter, because we didn't have a rope line. And you have a lot of speakers, and we have a video camera.

I even talked about how it's unlikely that we're going have a large crowd, they will be doing other stuff or other permits. And we have a video where we do a tight shot of everyone and we'll release those videos, so what these people are is about video equipment, staging. And we can call that security—I don't even know what PSD means. So if somebody wants to inform me on what that means, that will help contextualize this, too.


text:
Page:CTRL0000034607 - Deposition of Ali Alexander, (Dec. 9, 2021).pdf/90

90 [1:40 p.m.]

 * BY :

So if I were to ask Mr. Martin why he reached out to Oath Keepers, it's your testimony here today that he would say you didn't direct him to do so?

What I just answered was that me and Stewart Rhodes did not come up with this list together, and I can't vet it. And I didn't talk to you know, I don't recall talking to Stewart about this stuff.

I'm not focusing so much on the list. I'm focusing on why Mr. Martin sent you this list. Did you direct Mr. Martin to go get Oath Keepers for security?

This email doesn't say that.

I'm not asking about the email. I'm asking, if I were to ask Mr. Martin did you direct him to go to Oath Keepers for security, would he say no?

You'd have to ask him what he recalls. I can't—

I'm asking what your testimony is today.

I don't have testimony on what he'll say.

Did you direct him to go get Oath Keepers for your security?

You said that Nathan Martin sent this email.

Yes or no, yes or no, did you direct Mr. Martin to go get—

I don't—I don't recall.

You do not recall. Okay.

Yeah, I've testified to that.

Thank you.

So let's look at this list. Are you aware that Kelly Meggs, Connie Meggs, Caleb Berry, Kenneth Harrelson, David Moerschel, Jeremy Brown, Graydon Young, Jason Dolan,