St. Nicholas/Volume 32/Number 2/League
“A Heading for December.” By Walter E. Huntley, age 16. (Cash Prize.)
TO THE DOUBTFUL COMPETITOR.
Unheeding toil and tears,
Shall find a guerdon set apart
Somewhere among the years.
Once in a while, a long while,—once a year, it may be,—some one writes in or tells us that such good contributions as are published every month in the League cannot be original—that they must be copied from some book or magazine, Our reply is: You must remember that the members of the League are the most intelligent young people in the world. You must remember that many of them have been working and striving for many months, even years, before they obtain recognition, and that such effort means a result which cannot be measured by the standard of a child, however capable, who has made one effort without success. There is a talent for writing and drawing. There is also a gift for learning music. Yet the child who could learn to play the violin even passably with one lesson would be worth going far to see. Also, there are many, even of those who have the greatest talent, whose progress is very slow. The League editor has watched the development of boys and girls whose first efforts were so unpromising that for months there was no warrant for mention in the roll of honor, and has seen the gradual improvement which brought these persevering, resolute aspirants gradually to the highest reward the League has to bestow. Several acknowledgments from such members may be found among the League Letters in this issue.
Of course there aré many of the brightest and most capable children in the world who have no gift for creative art, and who do not wish to acquire skill in photography or to give attention to puzzle-making. Such as these will win recognition in other fields, in their own good time and way. The field of art is not for all. Yet even those who may not possess the honors awarded there cannot but be benefited by the effort to win them. Every sincere effort toward expression in word or line brings the sure reward of new knowledge and mental growth, and is never wasted. Recognition and prizes are precious to those who win them, but in the long, long way of years it is the honest and strong endeavor that upbuilds a nation of nobler women and of braver men.
Once in a while, a long while,—once a year, it may be,—some one who has not read the rules, or who having rend them does not care, does send a copied contribution, and the editor, who cannot see everything that has ever been written and drawn, may accept and publish that contribution. Then there is great unhappiness, for among the fifty thousand League members there are always many—oh, very many—who have seen that picture or poem or story before, and most of these write letters (some of them cross ones) to the League and say, “How can we compete against such unfairness as this?” But it does n’t hurt them half as badly as it hurts the editor, nor so much as it hurts the unfair contributor. For the League career of such a one ends right there. The prize is not sent, and the matter is reported in the League Notes, The copier is certain to be discovered. We know this, for every case that has been brought to our notice has been reported not by one only, but by scores; and this, by the way, is one of the very best reasons we have for knowing that there is not one in a hundred of the contributions published that is not “original,” as endorsed, according to the League rules.
PRIZE WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 60.
In making the awards, contributors’ ages are considered.
Verse. Cash prize, Margaret Minaker (age 16), Gladstone, Manitoba, Can.
Gold badge, Lucile D. Woodling (age 12), 302 Prospect St., Cranford, N. J.
Silver badge, Jessie Freeman Foster' (age 1$), 5535 Lexington Ave.; Chicago, Ill.
Prose. Gold badges, Robert Walsh (age 14), 405 E. 4th St., Newport, Ky., and Anna Loraine Washburn (age 16), 377 Marlborough St., Boston, Mass.
Silver badges, Louise Roberts (age 12), 63 Washington St., Hartford, Conn., and Beatrice Frye (age 13), 4346 W. Belle Pl., St. Louis, Mo.
Drawing. Cash prize, Walter E. Huntley (age 16), 263 Verona Ave., Newark, N. J.
Gold badge, John A. Ross (age 16), 312 E. 14th St, Davenport, Ia.
Silver badges, Phyllis McVicker (age 31), Morristown, N. J.; Helen Gardner Waterman (age 13), cor. Hawthorn and Albatross Sts., San Diego, Cal., and Elsa R. Farnham (age 7), Box 511, Laurium, Mich.
Photography. Gold badge. Phyllis B. Mudie-Cooke (age 16), 65 Queensborough Terrace, Hyde Park, London, W., Eng.
Silver badges, Dorothea Da Ponte Williams (age 17), Godolphin Rd,, Shepherds Bush, London, W,, Eng., and Gladys E. Chamberlain (age 14), 825 Congress St., Portland, Me.
Wild Animal and Bird Photography. First prize “Elk,” by Harold G. Simpson (age 14), 135 Lynda Ave., N., Minneapolis, Minn. Second prize, “Deer”, by Sidney Gamble (age 14), 521 Glenwood Ave., Cincinnati, Ohio. Third prize, “Blue Heron,” by Lawrence Sherman (age 15), 104 Cleveland St., Orange, N. J.
Puzzle-making. Gold badges, Nell G. Semlinger (age 17), 320 North St., San Antonio, Tex., and George H. Chapin (age 16), 26 Laurel Ave., St. Paul, Minn.
Silver badges, Clara Beth Haven (age 15), 162 Main St., Watertown, N. Y., and Elinor Townsend (age 10), Bolivar, Mo.
Puzzle-answers. Gold badges, Mary Ruth Hutchinson (age 17), 412 Gunnison St., Burlington, Ia., and Helen Hoag, 2140 Collinwood Ave., Toledo, Ohio.
Silver badges, Harriet Bingaman (age 15), 704 Chestnut Ave,, Altoona, Pa., and Nettie C. Barnwell (age 15), 213 Grand Ave., Yazoo City, Miss.
THE REWARD OF THE WEST.
By Margaret Minaker (age 16).
(Cash Prize.)
The sanguine sunrise, and the air
Cool, with the night-breeze barely gone,
We trod the dewy earth behind the share,
Cleaving the rich, dark soil in furrows long:
Above, a lark poured out his liquid song;
Beneath, the grasses whispered morning prayer,
Slowly we homeward wend our way;
The horses, tired, with drooping head,
Knowing that rest is near them, gently neigh;
And o’er the earth the shadows slowly steal,
Making the land dim, ghostly, and unreal.
So goes the long summer, day by day.
For, mellowed by the sun and rain,
Before us sway with gentle swell
Oceans of shining wealth unmatched by Spain;
Waving and rippling in the breezes bold,
It stretches toward the sky, our field of gold—
Unlimited and boundless, waving grain.
AN EPISODE OF RUSSIAN HISTORY.
By Robert Walsh (age 14).
(Gold Badge.)
One cold morning, during the time when Napoleon made his unsuccessful expedition into Russia, the landlord of the inn of a small village near Moscow was commanded to bring a good meal to three young flippant French officers, evidently brothers. Complying with this request, he soon appeared with a japanned waiter on which he bore a dozen steaming sausages, some potatoes, and s portion of rye bread.
At the sausages the Frenchmen sneered, at the potatoes scowled, and as for the rye bread, one of them took it up aad threw it in a corner, upon which the impudent trio left the hostelry with a most contemptuous look on their countenances.
The innkeeper was very angry, but he took the sausages and potatoes back to the cook, and the bread he placed in a near-by closet.
Who has not heard of the awful disasters that happened to Napoleon’s Grand Army at Moscow? When they arrived there they found a destitute city, which the Russians had burned rather than leave it to the French for winter quarters. Napoleon had nothing to do but retreat; this was the greatest of all disasters. It was marked by a continuous line of dead, which the ghouls robbed, the ravens picked at, while wolves ate, rather than drank, the frozen blood. Thousands were drowned fording rivers. During all this while the indefatigable Cossacks harassed the flanks, and it is said that Ney’s rear-guard was reduced from thirty thousand to thirty men. And yet their worst suffering was said to be the taunt of the enemy: “Could not the French find graves at home?”
A man in ragged uniform tottered up to the landlord with whom our story begins, and with these words fell at his feet exhausted: “Moscow burned—brothers killed—food!”
He was resuscitated, and as his wild eyes met the rye bread he had but a few days since cast aside, he clutched and ate it; and after a good meal the lieutenant of Napoleon marched on, a sadder and wiser man.
“Home Again.” by Phyllis B. Mudie-Cooke, Age 16. (Gold Badge)
CHARITY’S REWARD.
By Lucille D. Woodling (age 12).
(Gold Badge.)
’Mid courtly pomp and ease;
She was the queen of many lands,
Whom princes sought to please.
Her royal favor proved,
But vain the fame of royalty:
She was a queen—unloved,
Amid the great town’s roar,
A woman, lowly born yet high,
Long labored for the poor:
And church bells rang so free,
She many a home made happier—
A queen of charity.
’Mid courtly pomp and ease;
She really rules the people’s hearts—
The queen of charities.
“Home Again.” by Dorothea Da Ponte, Age 17. (Silver Badge)
AN EPISODE OF RUSSIAN HISTORY.
An Incident in Kuropatkin’s Boyhood.
By Anna Loraine Washburn (age 16).
(Gold Badge.)
When Kuropatkin was a boy of about seventeen be was sent to a military academy, In this school the boys had to work very hard, but they were allowed one day each week when they could play to their hearts’ content for twelve hours, on the condition that they would act as gentlemen.
On one of these holidays, Kuropatkin was strolling down the street, when he saw two of his school friends grab the contents of a small candy-shop and run away with them.
The next day while the boys were at their lessons the candy merchant came in and complained. The head officer asked him to pick out the two boys. But, alas! the poor little candy-seller had been too frightened to notice the thieves! faces. All he knew was that two boys wearing the uniform of the school had robbed him, and that a third had seen them do it. In despair the officer sent him away and turned toward the school.
“Boys,” he said, “you have all heard this story. Now I am going to ask of you three questions, which I want you to answer truthfully.” And then, beginning with the first row of expectant boys, he asked each one these questions:
“Did you steal the candy?
“Did you help steal the candy?
“Did you see the others steal the candy?”
They all answered no until it came to Kuropatkin. He denied having done the first two things, but he answered yes to the third. Then, getting up from his seat, he saluted his teacher.
“Sir,” he said, “I know who did the robbery, for I saw them do it, but I shall not tell you. They have already denied any knowledge of the affair. Now," and his voice rang out clear and true, “let them stand up and confess, and be Russians and be men.” ‘Then, saluting again, he stepped back to his place.
A murmur of applause ran through the room, and during it the two culprits stood up and acknowledged their guilt.
After this incident Kuropatkin was treated as a hero by all his friends.
THE WISE MEN’S REWARD.
By Jessie Freeman Foster (age 15).
(Silver Badge.)
Toward the Eastern Star,
Came three wise men through the desert,
To Bethlehem afar.
Their hearts were filled with joy;
They entered through a manger door
To see the Heavenly Boy.
The Babe of Bethlehem,—
And for their gifts so rich and rare
He sweetly smiled on them.
“Elk.” by Harold G. Simpson, Age 14. (First Prize, “Wild-animal Photography.”)
MY REWARD.
By Frances Lubbe Ross (age 13).
Such as honor, wealth, and fame.
Some toil for riches, and others strive
To make themselves a name.
Or a poet writes a verse,
’T is sometimes for love of beauty,
Sometimes to swell his purse.
Is neither riches nor fame;
’T is this: to see in St. Nicholas
“Gold Badge,” and above it—my name!
AN EPISODE OF RUSSIAN HISTORY.—THE FOUNDING OF ST. PETERSBURG.
By Beatrice Frye (age 13).
(Silver Badge.)
Peter the Great was the founder of St. Petersburg. The site selected for the city was a miserable marsh half under water. A few solitary fishermen inhabited it, and were barely able to get a living. These fishermen pointed out to Peter an old tree with a mark on it showing to what perilous height the waters sometimes rose, thereby showing him what a dangerous location it was for a city. Peter ordered the tree to be cut down.
This enterprise of Peter’s was almost impossible, but Peter was not easily daunted. He ordered multitudes of workmen from the different parts of his empire to come and work for him. They had no tools, but had to dig the soil with sticks or with their hands, and carried the earth away in their caps or aprons.
Within a year thirty thousand houses were built on the marsh. Beneath those houses were the bones of many wretched laborers who had died during the dreadful toil. But it mattered not to the Czar. He only said, One must break eggs to make an omelet.
Peter then commanded people to come from different parts of his empire to reside in this city. Men in all kinds of trades were transported by force to St. Petersburg. Every boat that entered the harbor was to bring a certain quantity of unhewn stones.
The little house where Peter lived was built largely by his own hands, and is now inclosed within an outer structure. His house was built of logs, and consisted of only three rooms—a dining-room, bedroom, and kitchen.
Thus St. Petersburg was built and peopled by Peter the Great. It is but just that the city should bear his name.
“Blue Heron.” by Lawrence Sherman, Age 15. (Third Prize, “Wild-bird Photograph.”
Lost or damaged League buttons will be replace free on application. This rule does not apply to the prize badges
“Deer.” by Sidney Gamble, Age 14. (Second Prize, “Wild-animal Photograph.”)
AN EPISODE OF RUSSIAN HISTORY.
By Louise Roberts (age 12).
(Silver Badge.)
One day Nicholas I was walking in the Summer Gardens at St. Petersburg, when he met an actor whose acting he had seen and liked. He stopped and complimented the Frenchman on it, and the actor, much pleased, replied. Now it was not permitted to speak to the emperor in the public gardens, so as soon as the Czar had passed on a policeman arrested the actor. His protestations that the emperor spoke first were of no avail. He was put in prison.
Nicholas went that night to see him act, but he was not there.
No one could give him any explanation as to the cause of his not being there; so the emperor remained unsatisfied.
The next day the actor was set free.
In some way Nicholas heard of it and sent for him. The Czar asked him what he could do to make up for the action of the police.
“Never speak to me in the public gardens again,” said the man; and his request was granted.
The next day Nicholas sent him money equivalent to a whole month’s salary.
A REWARD FOR BEING BAD.
By Marjorie Vershoyle Betts (page 15).
“She laughs at me.” (see poem.)
And surely teacher ought to know:
She said it, too.
I can never can do sums or spell—
The right way is so hard to tell,
I think, don’t you?
I said, “My fav’rite magazine
Is published there.”
But teacher frowned and cried, “How bad!”
Perhaps she wanted me to add,
“In Union Square.”
She answers all her questions well,
And never tries.
She langhs at me and seldom works
At things: just slips along, and shirks—
And gets the prize.
No matter how I toil away;
So I ’d be glad
If some one of their own accord
Would kindly offer a reward
For being bad!
Winners of prize badges should preserve them very carefully. If lost they cannot be replaced.
AN INCIDENT IN RUSSIAN HISTORY.
By Elizabeth Toof (age 13).
Peter the Great was born in 1672 and died in 1725. Though he lived in a very wild and romantic time, he did many things which were of lasting benefit to his country. One of these was to plan and build the first Russian boat, at Moscow.
Many years after its completion, when the Russian navy was established, this little vessel was taken a barge to St. Petersburg, where it was received with great ceremony.
The next day it was removed from the barge and rowed out into the bay, with the Emperor and several of the high officials on board. Not far away was the entire Russian feet, arranged in the form of a semicircle. So the little vessel went back and forth across the bay, and was saluted by the discharge of three hundred guns each time it approached the fleet, and heartily cheered by the crowd on the shore.
That night the Little Grandfather, as it was so significantly called, was put into the dock at St. Petersburg, where it remained for some time.
“Home again.” by Gladys E. Chamberlain, (Silver Badge.)
THE BEST REWARD.
By Catharine H. Straker (page 17).
Were fair young princes, strong and tall,
Who ’d free a princess they adored,
And win her as their just reward.
That makes the pupil win a prize;
It ’s just the one that stands the test
Of his exam, and does his best.
CROWN JEWELS OF RUSSIA.
By Ray Murray (age 13).
In the city of St. Petersburg, near the Alexander Column, stands the Winter Palace, one of the largest buildings in the world, and during the greater part of the year it is the residence of the Czar.
It is superbly situated, for close beside it rolls the river Neva, like flood of silver.
In one of the rooms of the Winter Palace, guarded night and day, are kept the crown jewels of Russia. It would be difficult to imagine anything more significent than the imperial crown. It is in the form of a dome, the summit of which consists of a cross of large diamonds resting on an immense ruby. This ruby, with its cross, is poised on arches of diamonds, whose bases rest upon a circle of twenty-eight other diamonds, that clasp the brow of the emperor, “The crown of the empress also contains no less than one hundred_ splendid diamonds, and is, perhaps, the most beautiful mass of these precious stones ever formed into a single ornament.
The chief of the superb collection is the Orloff diamond, which sparkles on the summit of the imperial scepter. Its history is as interesting as the stone is dazzling.
It formed at one time the eye of an idol in a temple of India. A French soldier, pretending to have been converted to the native religion, gained access to the idol’s temple one dark night, and, by some surgical operation best known to himself, deprived the deity of its bright eye and fled with the prize.
After passing through several bands it was finally purchased, for over half a million of dollars, by the famous Count Orloff, who laid it at the feet of Catharine II as the mast magnificent jewel in the world.
“Home again.” by Fred Bryle, age 15.
CHRISTMAS-TIME.
By Wilkie Gilholm (page 16).
And loops from ail the snowy eaves her glittering swords and bright,
Oh, then we look for Christimas day—the day to most hearts dear,
When sacred birth spread o’er the earth good will to men, and cheer.
While from the church the Christmas bells their carols sweetly ring.
Adown the stairs with merry laugh comes all the household band—
White-locks and rosy Dimple-cheek, hand clasping close in hand.
Soon strips the groaning branches of their wondrous, generous crop.
While grown-ups all receive the gifts which grown-up folks enjoy,
The drum and doll, gay sled and skate, delight each girl and boy.
Plum-pudding and the veal mince-pie support you hand in hand.
Oh, then the laughing repartee, the true and jolly fun;
No day is there like Christmas day, the real old-fashioned one!
To try Dutch Roll, the Outside Edge, and learn theFigure Fight;
Whilst grown folks harnessed up the horse, with sleigh-bells all a-chime,
And even the horses seemed to feel that it was Christmas-time!
“A Heading for December.” by John A. Ross, age 16 (Gold Badge.)
AN EPISODE OF RUSSIAN HISTORY IN GERMANY.
By Phillip C. Gifford (age 12).
Near the little town of Eisenach in northern Germany, on a high forest-covered hill, stands the majestic old castle of the Wartburg. In the splendid Hoftburg is a glass drinking-vessel, mended in many places, which the guide pointed out to us, and cold as its romantic story. When Peter the Great started from Russia in 1697 to make a tour of all the principal cities of Germany and Holland and a visit to London, so that he could see for himself how other nations built ship forged metals, and made war, he wished to travel incognito. But the very first man he met at Zaandam had been in Russia working as a smith, and the Czar haying a striking face he was recognized at once. He took lodgings with a man by the name of Kist in two little rooms and a loft, in which he prayed morning and night. While he stayed in Zaandam he built a 60-gun ship.
On his homeward journey he made no attempt at secrecy. He was entertained by the King of England and the Emperor of Germany. He stopped at the Wartburg to see the Elector. At the feast given in his honor, he drank out of this glass and then threw it upon the floor, saying no one should drink from the glass that he had drunk from.
But the pieces were gathered and mended after he was gone, and are now shown as an interesting relic of his visit to Germany.
“Home again.” by Philip S. Ordway, age 17.
THE MAN WITH NO REWARD.
By Harold R. Norris (page 11).
So patient all the day,
Oh, what reward does he receive,
Along his weary way?
Who never works at all;
But yet he worketh just as hard
As the lord up at the hall.
THE STORY OF OLEG’S DEATH.
By Ward S. Greene (age 11).
Oleg was ruler of Russia, For a long time he had asked his wizards and magicians, “By whom is it fated that I shall die?”
And one of his magicians said that his horse would be the cause of his death.
So he ordered them to take care of the horse, but never to bring it to him again. So many years passed, and be did not ride his horse, bot went among the Greeks.
Then he returned and stayed at Kief for four years, and in the fifth year he called his oldest groom and asked him where his horse was. And the groom said that it was dead.
Then Oleg laughed and said, “The wizard spoke falsely; the horse is dead, and I am alive.”
And he went to the place where the skull and bones of the horse lay unburied.
And he said, “How can a skull he the cause of my death?”
So he planted his foot on the skull, and out darted a snake and bit him, so that he fell sick and died. They buried him on the mountain called Stchekovitsa, and his grave is there to this day.
THE STORY OF CHRISTMAS.
By Dorothy Stott (age 11).
“My playmate.” by Phyllis McVickar, age 11.
Watching their flocks of sheep,
Had grown very, very weary,
And closed their eyes in sleep,
Of many angels’ voices:
“Peace on earth, good will to men!
Oh, all the world rejoices!”
The shepherds looked bemazed;
They hardly could believe ’t was true,
That sight on which they gazed.
“Our Saviour-King is here;
Oh, go, ye shepherds, to the place
Where the star shines bright and clear”
In a manger, lying there,
Sleeping sweetly and peacefully
’Neath his watchful mother's care.
And we children love to hear
The story of the Christ-child
Which has grown to us so dear.
A RUSSIAN EPISODE.
By Faith Goss (age 10).
Some years ago my great-aunt Elizabeth, who lives in Russia, wrote to us and said in one of the prisons some state prisoners were kept.
On the Fourth of July the people saw floating on the breeze red, white, and blue rags in the prison windows. The tags had been torn from their clothing.
The officials were very much surprised to see the rags.
The prisoners wished to show the Russians that they loved a country of liberty.
The prisoners communicated together by tapping on the water-pipes.
“My playmate.” by Robert Edmand Jones, age 16.
MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN HISTORY.
By Zena Parker (page 14).
Many years ago, in 1769, when our beautiful State of Tennessee contained nothing but vast forests, winding rivers, and savage tribes of Indians, a little body of settlers crossed the boundary and made their camp by the banks of the Cumberland River.
Ir required brave men to thus face the hardships of a life in the wilds of the forests—a life that, too, was constantly threatened. with danger from the Indians. But these men were brave. Was it not the Tennessee pioneers who fought and won the battle of King’s Mountain? And, best of all, this party was led by one of the bravest and best men that ever lived—James Robertson, “Father of Tennessee.”
The settlers at once set to work, and Robertson was the help and inspiration of all of them. If any one was discouraged, it was Robertson who patiently helped and persuaded him to try again; if there was anything too dangerous for any one else to do it was James Robertson who did it.
They built forts and cabins, and prepared in every way for their families to come. Finally they came; but they had not been there very long when troubles with the Indians begun, “The settlers fought bravely through many attacks; but one day they discovered, to their consternation, that their ammunition was almost out. What were they to do? It meant almost certain death to go to the next settlement for more, as the Indians were on the alert and killed every one they could who encroached on their hunting-grounds.
But Robertson was always willing to go on the dangerous errands. How could he mind risking his life, when he might be successful in getting the ammunition, and thus keep his people from a horrible death?
He armed himself with the little shot he had left, bade farewell to his friends, and set out on his perilous journey.
Robertson returned safely from his expedition, to the great joy of the settlers, for they had nearly given up hope; and his timely arrival saved the people from an Indian massacre.
It was that great bravery und courage in all emergencies that won for Robertson in the years to come positions of great importance, commanding unfailing love and trust from his people; and we look back to those perilous days with much admiration and reverence for the courageous “Father of Tennessee.”
“A Heading for December.” by Helen Gardner Waterman, age 13. (Silver Badge
A COWARD.
By Pearl F. Kellogg (page 14).
It was Johnny’s birthday, and he had received several nice presents. First, there was a fine new baseball which papa. had given him; then, there was a silver-mounted clothes-brush from mama, a fascinating game from sister Nell, and, lastly, there were two peculiarly luminous green marbles which baby Dorothy had insisted upon purchasing for him.
When Johnny went to bed he laid his presents on the bureau instead of putting them away, as a good boy should have done. This very fact was the cause of his downfall, Johnny turned out the light and laid his tousled head on the pillow; but thoughts of his birthday danced through his head and he could not go to sleep, (One never can go to sleep on one’s birthday.) All redoubtable methods of enticing sleep had failed, and Johnny gave up in despair. His eyes began to rove around the room, which was faintly lighted by the shimmering Silver moonlight. Suddenly he perceived two great green eyes staring at him from the ghostly shadow. At first he thought it was all a terrible dream; but as the eyes continued to stare he realized that he was wide awake, and he uttered a scream of terror.
When his frightened mother had reached the room and turned on the light, she found a terror-stricken little boy with his head tightly wrapped in the bed-covers. After Johnny had satisfied himself that the terrible something had departed, he told his mother the cause of his scream.
”Now what do you suppose it was, mama?” questioned Johnny, when he had ended.
For a moment his mother appeared deep in thought and did not answer. Presently, however, a little twinkle came into her eyes, and Johnny knew that she hed “supposed.”
”Johnny, where did you put your presents?” she asked.
“On the bureau. Why?”—as his mother stepped toward the bureau. For answer she held up the two green marbles which had been baby Dorothy’s gift to him, For a moment Johnny did not comprehend; but, when he did, such peals of uglier arose that sister Nell came rushing down the stairs to see what was the matter. Of course Nell told all Johnny’s schoolmates of his scare, and they never ceased to tease him about those marbles.
“A Heading for December.” by S. F. McNeill, age 14.
A BRAVE COWARD.
By Ethel Pickard (page 15).
A lonely boy stood watching a crowd of bathers who were swimming in the water on a warm summer day. Suddenly a boy called out, “Why don’t you come too, Charlie?”
"Oh, I don’t wish to swim to-day,” he answered, whereupon some of the swimmers gave a loud laugh, and one said: “You ’re a coward, Charlie.” The boy turned away, stung by their taunts. He could not deny it, for he was greatly afraid of water, and never had the courage to enter it. Two of the girl bathers were the daughters of a wealthy English general who had recently distinguished himself in the Boer War. Charlie greatly admired the girls, who had traveled extensively in Europe but were now boarding at his home. The girls, however, who had seen much of soldier life, derided him as a coward, and teased him continually.
That night Charlie, who had been studying at a late hour, fell asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by a loud report, and opened his eyes to find his room filled with smoke. Opening the door, he was greatly alarmed to find the hall filled with flames. Running to the window, he was about to jump when be suddenly remembered the English girls. Their room was in a wing of the House, and all their means of escape cut off. Putting his coat over his head, he resolutely opened his door and, almost choked with smoke, at last reached the girls’ room. Their door was open, and they were lying on the threshold, overcome with smoke. Hastily picking one up, he again ran the gantlet of flames. He threw the girl out of the window into willing hands below, and returned for her sister. Many minutes elapsed before he came again to his window. His head had been cut open by a falling rafter, and his hair and clothes were burning in spots. Hurriedly throwing the girl out of the window, he then jumped himself, and that was the last he remembered for many days; for, although the girls were unhurt, yet Charlie was badly injured, and remained in the hospital many weeks.
The English government, hearing of his brave deed, sent him a paper thanking him to which Queen Victoria’s name was signed, and that is now his most treasured possession.
“My playmates.” by John D. Butler, age 14.
League Notes and Letters.
A number of League members have written to say that they would like to correspond with other young people of the. For a time we published these requests, but our space is so limited and the requests became so numerous that we have been obliged to omit this interesting feature.
Requests still come for a competition in musical competition. This also we are obliged to forgo, for want of space. To publish even a very short score would require a half-page of St. Nicholas, and most musical contributions would need much more room.
The following League members will exchange stamps and souvenir post-cards: Zayda R. Williams, Box 611, Geneva, Ohio, Sidney Robinson, 240 River Ave., Ft. Rouge, Winnipeg, Can,, Lois, Williams, 921 Carrollton Ave., New Orleans, La., and Bernice Marks, Box 346, Lake Placid, N.Y.
Contributors should consider the League audience as well as the subjects given. Thousands of St. Nicholas readers enjoy the League departnent, even when they are not contributor, and if we can furnish entertainment for this audience we are making a long step toward success, the larger field of art.
My dear St. Nicholas: I wish to thank you for the gold badge which I received
I think that the badge itself is very beautiful, but to, me that which it represents—the hard work, the long time of waiting, and now the honor—is more than the badge itself.
I am very much interested in the League, and can truly say that you are one of my best friends.
I love to read the stories in the magazine, and like especially well most of the continued stories and the long stories complete in one number.
Wishing you success in the future. I remain,
Mary Salmon.
Dear St. Nicholas: I thank you very much for printing my story in the pages of St. Nicholas devoted to the League. It is such an encouragement to me. I began writing far St. Nicholas last January, and have not missed sending in my contribution (always prose) a single time since. My efforts have been rewarded each time by having my name on the roll of honor. I have now mounted the first round in the long ladder to literary success I have had my work printed in a good magazine. I shall persevere in my efforts, writing, if possible, each month until at some future date (it may be in the far future) either I shall have won first place twice, thus entitling me to the cash prize, or I shall have proven to the satisfaction of myself and friends that it is an impossibility.
Again thanking you for thus encouraging me, I remain,
Helen J. Simpson
by Robert W. Foulke, age 17.
Dear St. Nicholas: My grandmother received as a wedding present a large tract of land-which she turned into a park. As there were lots of weeping willows, it was quite a beautiful place. She made two lakes and one pool, One lake was double or cut in two by a dam of rocks with gates. In each lake there was an island full of flowers and plants. The other was a larger lake and lengthened into a channel which ended in a pool shaded by willows. There was a small pool with a rock castle ia the center. Grandma put over a hundred goldfish in the center lake, She was, given some beautiful swans, who live on the boundary river. She bought some fifteen black ducks, and they live on the river also.
There is a large house for the fantail turbit and other kinds of doves. She used to have an owl and some squirrels. She was offered a bear, but she did n’t accept it.
There are flowers all over and it is an altogether lovely place.
Leah Louise Stock (age 11).
Dear St. Nicholas: My gold badge came last night and I think it is a perfect beauty. I was so surprised when I saw I had won it, as I had never had anything higher than roll of honor No. 2 from the League before.
I shall certainly keep on trying in the hopes of winning a silver badge also, and possibly even a cash prize.
Agnes R. Lane.
Dear St. Nicholas: My gold badge arrived to-day; and the happiness of that moment in which I realized it was wholly mine I shall never forget.
During the seventeen months I have been a League member I have not missed a competition; yet six of those times 1 have known the utmost discouragement, not even reaching the honor roll. And this is my reward.
Greatly as I thank you for the encouragement you have given me, I thank you much more sincerely for the discouragements: for each defeat only renewed my ardor and made me more determined to win.
I almost envy the newer, members who still have their prizes to work for when I think that can never rewin my gold badge.
Thanking you once more for my prize, I remain,
Blanche Leeming.
Dear St. Nicholas: About a month ago our neighbors heard a queer noise in their kitchen, and they thought it was a rat and a few nights ago they heard a noise in the ceiling. and saw two pieces of plaster and am ivy leaf fall from above them. They saw a flying-squirrel come down from a crack by a sliding door. They captured it and put it in a cage. They think it was living in the walls all that time. After it eats it washes its paws, and it curls its long, flat nail over its eyes when it goes to sleep. It was a great little pet, especially as they are rather scarce around here.
Dear St. Nicholas: Three years I ’ve been working for that which I received last Saturday—the silver badge; so. perhaps youcan realize to some extent how overjoyed I was to get it.
Although I have contributed very irregularly at times, I ’vealways been greatly interested in the League.
As I was looking over the St. Nicholas for October, I was very much disappointed not to find my name on the roll of honor: but I kept on looking at the magazine, and oh, I was so delightfully surprised to see my poem! Wishing you a long and prosperous life,
Frances Benedict.
Dear St. Nicholas: The badge which came day before yesterday has certainly pleased me very much. It is so pretty! and, now that I have won that, I will work harder and try for something better.
I appreciate the picture, in the October number of the St. Nicholas, entitled “An Incident in Real Life,” greatly, since I myself have so often started to arrange my numbers, and two or three hours later suddenly realize that the whole afternoon is gone.
Thanking you again for the badge, I remain,
Mildred C. Jones.
Other interesting and appreciative letters have been received from Burwell Newton Kilbourne, Mary Thompson, J. Curran Rogers, Margaret Flint, Hugh Spencer, W. R. De Lappe, Marion W. Pond, Mildred Stanley Fleck, Sophronia M. Cooper, Elma Joffrion, Catherine E. Campbell, W. Clinton Brown, Mary Henderson Ryan, Eleanor Myers, Ruth G. Lyon, Valerie Marbury, Dorothy G. Gibson, Helen Whitman, Marie Armstrong, Marie Holt Greene, William S. Innis, and Elizabeth Marvin.
Chapters.
During the holidays is good time to form League Chapters, also for old chapters to elect new officers for the coming year. League Chapters should have many pleasant meetings between Christmas and New Year’s and after.” Winter is the time for getting together whether for work or play, and the League means both. Don’t make your meetings all work or all play. Reading, games, and refreshments—that is a good program, and is subject to all sorts of variations, because the reading may he of any sort, the games may be just what you like, and the refreshments whatever you happen to find easy to get. Nobody will be dissatisfied, we are sure, after an evening or an afternoon of employment and recreation.
“Playmates.”
by Irene Gaylord Farnham, age 12.
“A Heading for December.” by Elsa R. Farnham, age 7. (Silver Badge)
Badges and instruction leaflets will be sent upon request to all desiring to join the League and to organize chapters. It is not necessity to be a subscriber to the magazine to belong to the League,
As a matter of convenience, the secretary of each chapter should be authorized to receive subscriptions from any one desiring to subscribe for St. Nicholas.
New League Chapters.
No. 767. Blanche Goode, President; Jeannette Philips, Secretary; five members. Address, 1018½ Fourth Ave., Rock Island, Ill.
No. 768. Carleton Washburne, Secretary; eight members. Address, 135 Lexington Ave., Elkhart, Ind. Meetings Friday. No dues. Light refreshments.
No. 769. Mabel Reed, President; Catharine Wellman, Secretary; ten members. Address 254 Lafayette St. Salem, N. J.
No. 770. Mary Gove, President; Rachel Wyse, Secretary; three members, Address, 254 Lafayette St. Salem, Mass.
No. 771. “Rainbow Chapter” Emily Thomas, President; Orlando Richards, Secretary; nineteen members. Address, West Haven, Conn.
No. 772. Jennie Morgan, President; Agnes Finnegan, Secretary; nineteen members. Address, Sarnac Lake, N. Y.
“My Playmate.” by Ruth Parshall Brown, age 12.No. 773. Margaret Davidson, President; Helen Irvine, Secretary; four members. Address, New Brighton, N. J.
No. 774. “The Seaside Club.” Ruth Bartlett. President; Martha Batchelder, Secretary; four members. Address, Box 38, Hampton Falls, N. H.
No. 778. “M. C.” Eugene Lieder, President; John Buyer, Secretary: four members. Address, 152 Leonard St, Brooklyn, N. Y.
The Roll of Honor.
No. 1. A list of those whose work would have been published had space permitted.
No.. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to honorable mention and encouragement.
“My Playmate.” by Vieva
Fisher, age 10.
VERSE 1.
- Naomi Hale Cook
- Mabel E. Fletcher
- Natalie D. Worts
- Alleine Langford
- Constance Fuller
- Beulah H. Ridgeway
- Emily Rose Burt
- Edith J. Minaker
- Josephine Potter Davis
- Daisy Errington Brettel
- Catherine Montgomery
- Ray Randall
- Dorothy Ebersole
- Margaret Greg
- Katherine Gibson
VERSE 2.
- Florence Smith
- Esther Hopkins
- Dorothy Childs Cross
- Donald S. MacBride
- Elisabeth Spicer
- Florence Isabel Miller
- Elizabeth Chase Burt
- Charlotte E. Norris
- Mary F. Van Wormer
PROSE 1.
- Allen F. Brewer
- Thomas McCarthy
- Madeleine Dillay
- Sophronia Moore Cooper
- Katharine A. Pottor
- Rufus Willard Putnam
- Vera Demens
- Frank Hertell
- Mary A. Woods
- Margaret Dow
- Clara Bucher Shanafelt
- George Switzer
- Mary Pemberton Nourse
- Dorothy Cooke
- Freda Philips
- Katherine McD. Palmer
- Phyllis M. Clarke
- Robert Emmet Dundon
- Elizabeth R. Marvin
PROSE 2.
- Francisca Blaauw
- Edmund R. Brown
- Ivy Varian Walshe
- Harriette Kyler Pease
- Mary Louise Smith
- Willams G. Maupin
- Volant Vashon Ballard
- Marjorie Gabaiu
- Helen E. Patron
- Blanche Bloch
- Jeannette Schift
- Edwina J. O’Brien
- Leonora Branch
- Alvin McAlunan
- Lester Babcock
- Helen W. Kennedy
- Helen J. Simpson
- Henry B. Dillard
- Alice I. Misenheimer
- Mary Gove
- Leigh Stevens
- R. Goldschmidt
- Helen M. Barton
- Bessie Coat
DRAWINGS 1.
- Helen K. Bromm
- Jessie C. Shaw
- Alice Josephine Goss
- Richard F. Babcock
- May Frasher
- Elizabeth Otis
- Guy Holman
- Shirley Alice Willis
- Margaret A. Dobson
- Harold J. Breul
- Helen Ryan
- Muriel Jensen
- Helen Mertzanoff
- Isabel G. Howell
- Dorothy C. Sturgis
- Elinor Colby
- Lawrence Seton Striker
- Marie Atkinson
- Hilda Kohr
- Marjorie Newcomb Wilson
- Margaret Lantz Daniell
- Dorothy Ochtman
- Sophie Langdon Mott
- A. Victor Egbert
DRAWINGS 2.
- Nellie G, Parry Price
- Harriette Barney Burt
- James Frank Dulin
- Alice Sullivan
- Margery Fulton
- Emily W. Browne
- Ella Preston
- Rita Wood
- Marjorie Hubbell
- Anne Constance Nourse
- Cora L. Merrill
- Edith Park
- Gladys L’E. Moore
- Mary Ellen Willard
- Harry I. Tiffany
- Elizabeth A. Gest
- Olaf Mann
- Alice Esther Treat
- Carl Gustav Werner
- Ethel Messervy
- Cordner H. Smith
- Mildred Willard
- Gertrude Elizabeth Allen
- H. Ideva Hughes
- Shirley A. Rich
- Phyllis Nanson
- Emilie C. Flagg
- Ellen C. Griffith
- Alice B. Nicholson
- Kathyn A. Nicholson
- Lois D. Wilcox
- Dorothea M. Dexter
- Helen M. Brown
- Charles J. Novy
- Aline J. Dreyfus
- Ester Dell Lewis
- Gettine Vroom
- William W. Westring, Jr.
- Margaret McKeon
- Bessie Weight
- Helena B. Flynn
- Virginia Witmor
- Charlotte A. Nicholson
- Elizabeth White
“End of November.” by Alexandra Bradshaw, age 16.
“Good night—time to hibernate.”
- Mary A. Pirong
- Guy Wellington
- Katherine Mary Keeler
- Elizabeth Keeler
- Gladys Nelson
- Archie MacKinnon
- G. B. Markle
- Beulah A. Belcher
- Anna Zollars
- Anne Furman Goldsmith
- Phœbe Underwood
- Charlotte Cook
- Honor Gallsworthy
- Catherine Warner
- Georgina Wood
- Eleanor Frances Welsh
- Esther Naomi Brown
- Margaret Booraem
- Hilda Rowena Bronson
- Kate Fishel
- Mary Taft Atwater
- Lelia Y. Remnitz
- Hazel Bakewell
- Robert H. Gibson
- Florence G. Mackey
- Margery Gardner
- Susan J. Appleton
- Mary Baxter Ellis,
- Rachel Wyse
- Helen Hill Newby
- Prudence Ross
- Dorothy Holt
- Eleanor Keeler
- Kathleen MeKeag
- James A. Crouse
- L. M. Blackford, Jr.
- Vernon Dodge
- Grace Wardwell
- Adelaide Nicbols
- Katharine Leeming
- Mildred Curran-Smith
PHOTOGRAPHS 1.
- Tyler H. Bliss
- Lydia A. Stetson
- S. M. Janney, Jr.
- George Merritt Jr.
- Anna M. McKechnie
- Piero Colonna
- T. Beach Platt
- Irene F. Wetmore
- Claire Brundage
- Mary W. Woodman
- Elsie Wormser
- John W. Beatty, Jr.
- Janie J. Polk
- Clifford Standinger
- Joseph Wharton Lippincott
- Harry J. Polk
PHOTOGRAPHS 2.
- Florence R. T. Smith
- Ruth H. Caldwell
- Mary E. Glessner
- Hugo Graf
- Constance Williams
- Canema Bowers
- J. Raymond Hampson
- Rose G. Wood
- Grace Povenmire
- Dorothy V. Gresham
- George Hill
- Walter Schilling
- Marion D. Freeman
- George Grady, Jr.
- Charlotte Greenbaum
- May H. Peabody
- Eleanor Phillips
- H. Erest Rell
- Marion P. Reynolds
- Walter Moore
- Elizabeth Thacher
- Donald Armour
- Stewart Bowers
- Rene Guillon
- Mary Wadsworth
- Mildred R. Betts
- Bradley L. Coley
- Vera Mae Tyler
- Dunton Hamlin
- Ellen Soumarchoff Elston
- Helen Whitman
- Christina B. Fisher
- C. Mortimer Wilmerding
- Helen Goodall
- John B. Lowry
- George B. Watts
- Beth P. Dean
- R. Barton Parker
- Katharine Wardsworth
PUZZLES 1.
- Katharine King
- Elizabeth Beal Berry
- Benjamin L. Miller
- Doris Hackbusch
- Madge Oakley
- Clarence Gamble
- Edna Chapman
- Grace F. Anderson
- Erwin Janowitz
- Estelle J. Ellisson
- Joseph Wells Jr.
- Marion Thomas
- E. Adelaide Hahn
- “Two Puzzlers”
- Gywyneth Penuethome
- Nesta Penuethorne
- Marion Toulnmin
PUZZLES 2.
- Alice Knowles
- Walker Ely Swift
- William McAdams
- Margaret Flint
- Harry W. Hazard, Jr.
- Alice D. Karr
- Eleanor L, Halpin
- Louisa Henderson
- Floumoy A. Hopkins
- Juanita Read Harmar
- Augusta Kilpatricle
- Alice A. Perkins
by Lewise Seymour, age 14.
NOTICE.
The St. Nicholas League is an organization of St. Nicholas readers for the purpose of mental improvement, good-fellowship, and the more kindly consideration of our animal friends. The membership is free, and any reader of the magazine, whether a subscriber or not, may obtain the League badge and instruction leaflet on application.
PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 63.
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges each month for the best poems, stories, drawings, photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winners who shall again win first place, This does not include “Wild Animal and Bird Photograph" prize-winners.
Competition No. 63 will close December 20 (for foreign members December 25). The awards will be announced and prize contributions published in St. Nicholas for March.
Verse. ‘To contain not more than twenty-four lines. Title: (o contain the word “Hero.”
Prose. Article or story of not more than four hundred words to relate to some episode in Greek history.
Photograph. Any size, interior or exterior, mounted or unmounted; no blue prints or negatives. Subject, “A Gloomy Day.”
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash (not color), interior or exterior. Two subjects, “My Favorite Subject” (from life) and a Heading or Tailpiece for March.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the answer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle-answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. Must be indorsed.
Wild Animal or Bird Photograph. To encourage the pursuing of game with a camera instead of a gun. For the best photograph of a wild animal or bird taken in its natural home: First Prize, five dollars and League gold badge. Second Prize, three dollars and League gold badge, Third Prize, League gold badge.
RULES.
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and leaflet, which will be sent on application.
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 things must not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself—if a manuscript, on the upper margin; if a picture, on the margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper only, A contributor may send but one contribution a month—not one of each kind, but one only. Address:
The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.