[to be continued.]
THE ROVERINGS' FOURTH.
BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.
It had been arranged for weeks beforehand, and the whole family were delighted with the novelty of the proposition. Mrs. Rovering suggested it on the evening of Decoration-day, as she and Mr. Rovering and Edward and Edgar sat at the supper table, with patriotic appetites after their long tramp to and from the soldiers' graves.
"I think," Mrs. Rovering began, as she buttered a biscuit for Edgar—"I think we had better commemorate the Fourth in a manner that will not so weary us as to-day has done."
The good lady always made use of those words which it seemed she must have gone to the dictionary and picked out before she began to speak.
"Oh, pa, how many crackers will you give us this year?" burst out Edward.
Mr. Rovering was in the fire-works business, which fact had always been a source of the greatest satisfaction to his sons, and an awful trial to his wife, who every night expected to see him brought home in a scattered condition on a stretcher.
"What do you say to our not participating in the annual picnic, as it always rains, and the silver-plated ware's mislaid, the ants get into the sugar, and the boys into the pond?—what do you say to foregoing the enjoyment of these sylvan delights, and spending the day in town? We should thus have an opportunity of observing to how great an extent explosives are used here, and you could then gauge your manufacture of the articles accordingly. Aha! I have it!" added the inventive lady, after a moment's reflection. "We'll take the line of cars running entirely around the city, and so we'll be sure of viewing all sides of the question."
"The very thing!" exclaimed her husband.
In due course the famous national holiday arrived, and at about nine o'clock in the morning the family sallied forth on their memorable expedition. The two Eds went first, hurling torpedoes as if they were trade-marks, and now and then touching off a cracker, after having assured themselves that there was no policeman near. Then came the father and mother, arm in arm, under a great cotton umbrella, which Mrs. Rovering always insisted should be carried during their excursions, for fear rain might come on and spoil the silk one.
On reaching the corner where they were to take the car, a discussion arose as to which direction they should go.
"It doesn't make a particle of difference, so long as we get off," affirmed Mr. Rovering.
"Well, then," rejoined the originator of the expedition, "let's take whichever car comes first." And this decision would certainly have finally disposed of the matter if at that instant Edward had not shouted, "Oh, ma, here's a car coming up!" and Edgar, "Oh, pa, here's a car coming down!" and if, moreover, these two cars had not arrived at that identical corner at one and the same moment.
They both stopped, and Mr. Rovering cried, "Dear me, Dolly, which shall we take?—which shall we take?" while Edward hopped up and down on the step of one, and Edgar practiced jumping on and off the platform of the other.
"Take the one that isn't a 'bobtail,'" returned Mrs. Rovering, composedly.
"But they're both 'bobtails!'" exclaimed her poor husband, in an agony of apprehension lest the cars should start off, and cause his sons to fall on their pocketfuls of torpedoes.
Finally Mrs. Rovering said, quietly, "We shall ride in the empty one," and this proving to be the up-bound conveyance, they got in and were off.
"Now, Robert," Mrs. Rovering began, as soon as they had recovered from the shock of starting, which had sent them all down on the seat like a row of bricks, "don't make a mistake in putting our fares in the box. Let me see, five, five—yes, both the boys are over five. Have you got it right?"
But sad to relate, Mr. Rovering had not got it right, for, owing to his wife's constant repetition of the word five, he had become so confused as to drop twenty-five cents into the box, thinking there were five in the party.
"Make the driver extricate it for us," suggested Mrs. Rovering; but that individual promptly replied that he couldn't do it, and coolly proceeded to let the money down into the safe before their very eyes. But upon this his passengers raised such an outcry of indignation that the knight of the brake was forced to open the door again, and pacify them by saying they might take the fare from the next passenger. This appeared to be such a brilliant idea that Mrs. Rovering was almost inclined to envy the driver's genius.
These cars, although "bobtails," were drawn by two horses, and therefore went along at quite a respectable rate, but this did not prevent evil-minded youth from hanging on behind in all the blissful enjoyment of a free ride, and the efforts of the driver to dislodge these highway boys amused the two Eds not a little. One of his stratagems was to suddenly brake up the car as though he were going to stop and personally chastise the offenders, while another was to ring the bell and pretend one of his passengers was about to alight.
But on this occasion there were two boys who persisted in sticking on in spite of everything, and at last they so exasperated the poor driver that he threw down his reins, and rushed around to the rear platform with his whip raised.
Now it so happened that the two Eds had been long waiting for this opportunity, and as the man cut the air with his lash—and the air only, for the young rascals were already half a block away—Edward and Edgar simultaneously threw down six torpedoes apiece on the front platform, the effects of which were to send the horses off at a gallop, with the lines about their feet, and the driver tearing after them in vain.
"Whoa!" shouted Mr. Rovering and the boys.
"Which—where—what shall we do?" groaned Mrs. Rovering, sinking back on the seat, and covering her face with her hands.
"Stop 'em, somebody. And oh, boys, why did you start 'em?" and Mr. Rovering remained standing motionless on the platform, casting longing looks at the reins trailing in the street.
"Remember," exclaimed Mrs. Rovering, "we're on the continuous line, and so we'll keep on going round and round, and never stop! Oh, why did you ever force me to set out upon this unhappy expedition?"
At this Mr. Rovering grew almost beside himself with despair; and determined on doing something, he seized the two Eds, and extracting from their pockets every torpedo he could find, flung the latter, in the heat of his passion, out of the window, which naturally resulted in a report much louder than the first one, and thus materially quickened the pace of the poor, bewildered animals.
And now a new danger arose. What if they should catch up to the car ahead?
But, luckily for all concerned, the stables of the company were not far off, and when the horses reached the car-house they slowed up, and the Roverings were rescued.
"But why didn't you put on the brake?" asked the superintendent.
Sure enough, why hadn't they?
HOW TO BUILD A STEAM-YACHT.
Most of you boys know enough about boats to have built your sloop and schooner yacht, and perhaps a canoe; now why not go a little farther, and build a steam-yacht? Don't worry about your engine, boiler, and propeller; these can be bought complete at a low figure—an engine that will reverse, stop, and send your boat ahead at the rate of two miles an hour.
After taking a good look at the plates, and having made up your mind that you are equal to the task, go and see your friend the carpenter, and tell him you want a piece of white pine, free of knots, grain running lengthwise, well seasoned, thirty inches long, seven wide, and six deep. I speak of white pine, for the reason that it is easy to get, inexpensive, and cuts easily. Plane the four sides smooth; mark a centre line, AB, on both top and bottom.
PLATE I.
PLATE II.
The centre of your block must now be marked at right angles to the line AB on top and bottom; carry this line down the sides as well. This is the line marked X in Plates I. and II. Now for the first cutting of the block—the sheer line SH on Plate I. The dotted lines marked from 1 to 10 must be drawn, beginning at 1, just one inch from the left-hand end of block, No. 2 three inches from this, and so on, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10; the last number will be just two inches from the right-hand end. These are to be marked on top and on both sides. These lines are very important, as the shape of your boat depends upon them. With a pair of compasses take distances from the line AB, Plate I., at numbers 1 to 10 respectively, to the line marked SH, and join the points with a straight-edge. This is your sheer. Work from the bow to about the centre of the block, and then from the stern; if you attempt to cut from end to end, you will certainly split off too much. Finish this sheer line with a spokeshave. The lines having been cut off the top of the block, draw them again on your new surface, as well as the line X and the centre line AB.
PLATE III.
PLATE IV.
Now for Plate II. This gives the shape on deck. Using your compasses again, take the distances from the line AB on the subdivisions from stem to stern, and join with a curved rule, making the line HL. Before cutting away the sides of the block, look at Plate IV.; this gives the shape of the boat amidships. At the line X on deck it is but six inches wide, but it gradually widens to seven inches. Cut away with a draw-knife from 6 on the line MN to L, Plate II., and from 5 on MN to H, striking the line HL at 8 in the former, and at 3 in the latter case. The other side must be cut in the same way. The block had better be put in a bench vise to do this. You have now your boat in the rough. With a spokeshave round up the sides of the hull to HL. Turn your boat over, and cut with a saw three and three-quarter inches from the left-hand end, to a depth of three inches, and split off with a chisel.
Plate IV. gives the lines of the hull from the centre, to bow and stern. Make careful and separate tracings of the curves marked from 1 to 10 and X, paste on thin pieces of wood, cut them out with a knife or jig-saw, and number them. Cut away the sides of the hull, testing with your patterns at the respective subdivisions, and finish with a spokeshave. Be careful near the stern-post of the swell where the shaft comes through. In cutting the bow take the pattern of the curve BK, Plate I., and shape accordingly. Now you may begin to dig out the hull. Fit your boat firmly to a table, or put it in a bench vise; but be careful not to mar the sides. Allow half an inch inside of the deck line for the thickness of the sides. Don't go too deep, but between the numbers 7 and 4 get the right depth or bed for your engine and boiler; place a straight-edge across the boat at these points, and get just the depth; the width necessary you will see in Plate V.
PLATE V.
Plate II. For the deck use white pine one-eighth of an inch thick, straight-grained, and free from knots. Follow the line DL in cutting the deck. Allow the deck to project one-eighth of an inch all around; this will serve as a beading around the hull. Section of vessel Plate V. shows this at BD.
Plate III. shows deck finished, planking, top of cabin, bitts, etc. Mark the planking with an awl and straight-edge—not too deep, however, or you will split your deck. The double lines in the opening of the deck, Plate II., represent a coping to fit the cabin on, and at the same time to strengthen it. Make it of pine one-sixteenth of an inch thick, and fasten with good-sized pins having points clipped off diagonally by nippers or scissors: a better nail you will not want; use these wherever it is necessary.
The motive power consists of a single oscillating cylinder, half-inch bore, one-inch stroke; copper boiler, with lamp, shaft, and propeller; which will cost you ten dollars. A double oscillating engine costs fifteen dollars. The engine is controlled from the top of the cabin. The lever, if pressed to the right, will start the engine ahead; if left vertical, will stop, and to the left, will reverse it. What more can you want than that? The lamp holds just so much alcohol, and when that is burned out, the water in the boiler is used too. Never refill the lamp without doing the same to the boiler. The boiler is to be filled through the safety-valve, and provided with three steam-taps; these will show the height of water in the boiler. The coupling or connection between the shaft and engine is made so that you may take engine and boiler out, and use them for anything else.
There are three things we've forgotten, the stem, stern-post, and keel. Use the pattern you made for your bow, and cut out one-eighth inch stuff for your cut-water, or stem; the dotted lines at BK, Plate I., will show the shape; fasten on with cut pins. The stern-post, with the exception of the swell for the shaft, should be about the same thickness, and fitted in as shown in Plate I. The keel should be of lead, tapering from half an inch in the centre to one-eighth at the bow and stern: cut a small hole at Z, and let the rudder-post rest in it. Now fasten in your engine; two screws through the bed-plate will do it. Try the boat in water; if she is down by the stern, tack a piece of sheet lead in the bow inside. Nail your deck in with cut pins. Use one-eighth inch strips one-half inch high for the gunwale as far as the rounding of the stern; this must be cut out of a solid piece. Finish the gunwale with a top piece of Spanish cedar lapping over on either side of it.
Your cabin may be made of Spanish cedar one and a half inches high, one-eighth thick; make this wide enough to fit outside of the coping; your sheer pattern will give the necessary curve to fit it to the deck. The pilot-house is made separate, two inches high. Before putting the cabin together, cut all openings, windows, etc., and mark with an awl the panellings and plank lines. The doors are simply marked in, not cut out.
Leave the front windows in the pilot-house unglazed, so as to serve as ventilators for the lamp. The top of the cabin overlaps the sides one-eighth of an inch all around. Cut a hatch in the cabin roof abaft the steam-drum; this is intended to oil the engine through, and try the steam-taps, without taking off the whole of the cabin. The cabin is kept in place by the funnel, which slips off just above the roof. The slit in the cabin top just back of the hatch is where your engine lever comes through. The bitts, B, fore and aft, are made of Spanish cedar, running through the deck to the hull. Your tiller may be made of steel wire running through the head of the rudder-post, which is made of iron wire; the man who makes your engine will do this for you.
MODEL OF A STEAM-YACHT.
OLD TIMES IN THE COLONIES.
BY CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN.
No. II.
CHAMPLAIN AND THE IROQUOIS.
It was a long while ago, in 1535, that Jacques Cartier, of France, discovered the St. Lawrence River. He sailed up the mighty stream to the Indian village of Hochelaga—a cluster of wigwams at the foot of a hill which he named Mount Royal, but which time has changed to Montreal. Seventy-four years rolled away before any other white man visited the spot. In 1609, Samuel Champlain, an officer in the French navy, sailed up the great river. He was a brave adventurer, who was ever taking long looks ahead, and dreaming of what might be in the future—how the unexplored wilderness of America might become a New France. He had built houses at Quebec, and was on his way to discover what might be beyond.
He treated the Indians kindly, gave them presents, and made them his friends. There were many tribes, but all the Indians east of the Mississippi, and between Lake Superior and the Ohio, were divided into two great families, the Algonquins and the Iroquois. The Indians along the St. Lawrence, the Ottawa, and Lake Huron were Algonquins. The Iroquois lived in New York. They were the Mohawks, Onondagas, Oneidas, Senecas, and Cayugas. They called themselves the Five Nations. They had corn fields, and lived in towns. Their language was different from that of the Algonquins, with whom they were ever at war.
The wild flowers were in bloom in June, 1609, when Samuel Champlain sailed up the St. Lawrence to join a war party against the Iroquois. He had resolved to make the Algonquins his allies, and through them, and with the aid of the Jesuit priests, he would lay the foundations of the empire of New France.
The war party sailed up the Richelieu, or the St. John, carried their canoes past the rapids, launched them once more, and came out into the lake which bears the name of the intrepid explorer. Two Frenchmen accompanied Champlain, and there were twenty-four canoes, carrying sixty warriors, who had put on their feathers, and filled their quivers with arrows.
The woods were full of game, and the lake was swarming with fish, so that there was no lack of provisions. At daybreak they hauled their canoes up on the beach, and secreted themselves, so that no Iroquois might discern them; but when the sun went down they launched their canoes, and stole on in silence over the peaceful waters.
It was ten o'clock in the evening. They were near Crown Point, when they heard the dip of other paddles, and beheld a fleet of Iroquois canoes moving northward. A whoop wilder than the howling of a pack of wolves rent the air, and the Iroquois pulled for the shore to prepare for battle. They hacked down trees with their stone hatchets, and built a barricade.
Both parties danced, sang, howled, and yelled through the night, boasting of what they would do.
"We will fight you at daybreak," came from one side.
"You are cowards, and don't dare to fight," was the answer.
The morning sunlight streamed up the eastern sky, revealing the outline of the Green Mountains, and driving the darkness from the wilderness. The air was calm and peaceful as the Algonquins and Iroquois ranged themselves for battle. Many times had they met, and the great world had been no better—nor perhaps any worse—for their fighting; but this was to be a momentous conflict, affecting the welfare of the people of America through all succeeding ages.
Champlain put on a steel breastplate, and an iron casque to protect his head, with a plume waving from the burnished metal, buckled on his sword, loaded his arquebuse, or gun with a bell-shaped muzzle, putting in four balls. The other two Frenchmen put on their breastplates and loaded their guns, but all three kept themselves concealed from the Iroquois.
The Iroquois had shields of hide stretched on hoop for defensive armor. Like the Algonquins, they had bows, arrows, and tomahawks.
The Algonquins were only sixty-four, while the Iroquois were more than two hundred. In splendid order, which was the admiration of Champlain, the Iroquois advanced to wipe out the Algonquins at a blow.
The Algonquins opened their ranks, and the Iroquois beheld Champlain—a being in human form, with the sunlight gleaming from his breast. They were transfixed with astonishment at the apparition. They see him pointing something at them. There is a lightning flash—a cloud—a roar. A chief falls dead, and one of the warriors is wounded.
The Iroquois are astounded. For a moment the air is filled with their arrows. Another lightning flash, a third, and they flee in terror, running swifter than the deer, to escape from beings which fight with lightning flashes and hurl invisible thunder-bolts! They were shots which are still echoing down the ages.
A BATTLE THAT LASTED BUT A MINUTE.
The battle has lasted a minute, but the Iroquois never will forget it. More intense their hate of the Algonquins; and it is the beginning of their implacable enmity to the French: an enmity which is to increase as time goes on, and which will make them the allies of the English through the great struggle which is to take place between France and England—between two races, two languages, two religions, and two civilizations—for supremacy upon this continent.
Seven years passed. Champlain had been back to France, and had returned. He was still thinking of the great empire France would one day control in the Western World. He made his way with a dozen Frenchmen up the Ottawa, past Lake Nippising, to Lake Huron, then turned south to Lake Ontario, sailed along the eastern shore with a great war party of Hurons, to attack their old enemies—the Senecas, tribe of the Iroquois.
It was October. The woods were bright with crimson and magenta hues. The Iroquois had planted corn and pumpkins, and were gathering the harvest when the Hurons burst upon them. They fled to their fortified town on the shore of Lake Canandaigua. It was inclosed by trunks of trees thirty feet high set in the ground. There was a gallery on which they could stand and fire or throw stones upon their assailants.
The Iroquois were the terror of every tribe east of the Mississippi. If Champlain could but conquer them, he would make the power of France felt to the Gulf of Mexico.
All night long the Hurons worked, building a tower of timber upon which the Frenchmen could stand, and pick off with their guns those inside the walls.
Two hundred warriors, with shouts and yells, amid a volley of arrows, drag the tower into position. The Iroquois swarm upon the walls, and the fight begins—the Frenchmen firing from the top of the tower, the Iroquois sending back arrows.
The Hurons light torches, and run up to the palisade with armfuls of dry sticks, and set them on fire; but the Iroquois run with calabashes of water, mount the gallery, and extinguish the flames. Each warrior yells at the top of his voice. They are crazed with excitement. For every whoop of the Hurons, the Iroquois give an angry yell of defiance. Arrows and stones fly. The Iroquois drop one by one before the unseen thunder-bolts from the men in the tower, but seventeen warriors go down before the arrows of the Iroquois. An arrow wounds Champlain in one knee, another pierces his leg. For three hours the fight goes on, when the Hurons, crest-fallen and disheartened, retreat to their camp. They linger five days, and then retire to their canoes, carrying Champlain on a litter all the way to Lake Ontario. The Iroquois steal upon them in their retreat, letting fly volleys of arrows, and yelling like hyenas over the defeat of the Hurons. They have discovered that the white men with their guns, after all, are not invincible.
HUMPTY DUMPTY AND THE MAGIC FIRE-CRACKERS.
BY AGNES CARR.
Humpty Dumpty looked very sober one July morning, as he sat on his mother's door-step, his usually good-natured face screwed into a dozen wrinkles, and his button-hole of a mouth drawn down at the corners in the most dismal manner imaginable.
What could be the matter with the merry lad? For he was known far and wide for his fun and jollity.
So thought Mother Goose as she came up the village street.
"Why, Humpty Dumpty, what has happened to you? have you had another fall?" asked Mother Goose.
"No, Mother Goose, it is not a fall this time, but something worse, for I haven't a penny in the world, nor likely to have, and to-morrow is the Fourth of July, when all the boys and girls will have pistols, gunpowder, and fire-works, while I shall not even be able to get one fire-cracker."
"That is a misfortune for a boy, truly," said Mother Goose, "and I wish I could help you, with all my heart, though I don't see how. But stay! I had forgotten;" and diving to the bottom of a capacious pocket, she drew forth a small box, and from it produced three diminutive fire-crackers.
"They are not much," she said, "but such as they are, you are welcome to them, and at least you will not be crackerless. They were given to me, years ago, by the Man in the Moon, when he came down on that trip to Norridge (of which you have learned in your history), and staid overnight at my house, and were part of a pack presented to him by the Man in the South, who dislikes anything that suggests fire. He said they were magic, and you must always make a wish before setting them off."
"Oh, thank you, Mother Goose; they are much better than none at all," said Humpty Dumpty, gratefully; and he looked quite happy once more, as the good old lady nodded "good-by," and proceeded on her way, while the gander waved a yellow webbed foot in farewell.
"I will set off one cracker before breakfast, one at noon, and one to-night," thought Humpty Dumpty, as he tumbled out of bed bright and early next morning; "as I have so few, I must make them go as far as possible."
So as soon as he was dressed he ran into the yard and prepared to salute the "Glorious Fourth."
"Mother Goose said I must make a wish first, so here goes: I wish for a pop-gun, and no end of fire-crackers and torpedoes: now shoot away."
Touching the string with a match, there was a sharp report, and Humpty Dumpty was obliged to dodge, for the air was instantly filled with flying objects. A square package hit him on the nose, a round one landed in his open mouth, while a pop-gun thumped him rudely on the back; and by the time the cracker had burned itself out, he was standing in mute amazement, gazing upon the fulfillment of his wish far beyond his wildest expectations.
"Oh, jolly!" was his first comment, and he soon found courage to stuff his pockets with the crackers and torpedoes until they stood out like balloons, and made him look fatter than ever, when he walked down toward the green, popping at every cat and dog on the way, the envy and admiration of every other boy in Gooseneck.
Humpty Dumpty was a generous lad, however, and shared his treasures with all his friends, although he would not tell where he got them; and by noon every cracker and torpedo was a thing of the past, and each boy had had a "pop" with the pop-gun.
Meanwhile Humpty Dumpty had been thinking of his second wish, and at last decided to share it with Bo-peep, of whom he was very fond, and for that purpose asked the little shepherdess to walk with him to the large oak-tree on the edge of the village, and while resting in the shade of its green boughs said,
"If you could have whatever you wished for, what would you choose, Bo-peep?"
"Oh, some blue ribbons, and candy," said Bo-peep, "bolivars, and chocolate drops, and such things."
"Then wish for them, and fire off this," said Humpty Dumpty, handing her a cracker.
Bo-peep looked surprised, but did as she was bid; but to the boy's surprise and disappointment, it only "fizzed," and went out.
"It is a poor one," said Bo-peep.
"We will make a squib of it," said Humpty Dumpty; and he quickly broke it in two, and applied a match; and what a squib it was!—for in place of the usual stream of fire, there issued forth a shower of such sugar-plums and bonbons as neither of the children had ever even dreamed of, and yards and yards of blue ribbon, the very color of the summer sky.
Bo-peep clasped her hands, and sat down suddenly on the grass, but Humpty Dumpty calmly heaped her lap with goodies, and twined the ribbon in her sunny hair, and round the neck of her favorite lamb, which had followed them from the village, and while they regaled themselves with the confections under the oak-tree, told her of the wonderful gift given him by dear old Mother Goose.
That afternoon the good people of Gooseneck were startled out of their accustomed quiet by an invitation from Humpty Dumpty to an exhibition of fire-works that evening on the village green; and John Stout, Nimble Dick, and a number of other boys were engaged to build a platform for the occasion.
"The boy must have gone out of his mind," said Mrs. Dumpty, when she heard the news. "I'm afraid that last fall has affected his brain;" and all the villagers shook their heads doubtfully.
They were all on hand, however, at the appointed time, Mother Goose occupying a reserved seat in front; and loud was the laugh and many the jokes made on Humpty Dumpty when he appeared on the platform carrying in his chubby hand one small fire-cracker.
"Have we all come here to see a fat boy set off that little squib?" they asked.
"Wait," said Mother Goose.
And in a few moments their ridicule was turned to wonder; for as the cracker went off, a confused medley of rockets, pin-wheels, Roman candles, blue-lights, and other fire-works fell with a loud noise upon the stage.
"Magic!" "magic!" sounded on all sides, but changed to ohs! and ahs! as a beautiful rocket flew through the air, and burst into a hundred golden balls.
Oh, that was a Fourth of July long to be remembered, for such fire-works had never been seen in Gooseneck before; and when the last piece of all was displayed, showing a figure of Mother Goose herself, surrounded by a rainbow and a shower of silver stars, the delight of the spectators knew no bounds, and cheers for Humpty Dumpty rent the air.
He came forward, his round face all aglow with pleasure, as he bowed and said, "Your thanks, my friends, do not belong to me, but to our beloved Mother Goose, who, to make a poor boy happy, gave him her three magic fire-crackers."