"Voyage of Discovery" Awards.
The Table offered to divide $50 in money among the ten members of the Order who sent that number of best answers to twenty-seven questions which were written into jingle descriptive of a Journey taken by the "three wise men of Gotham who went to sea in a bowl." There were some riddles in the story, as that at a certain hotel in France the party wasgiven a queer dish, described in a charade. But most of the questions were such as these: "'Find a writer's tool in a Danish port"—Co-pen(17)-hagen—and "convenient coin in a Russian mart"—Ar-change(13)-l. Here are all the answers:
1, La-brad-or and Winni-peg; 2, Ba-ham-a; 3, Au-gust-a; 4, Hi-malay-a; 5, Cam-peach-y; 6, La-dog-a; 7, C-hin-a; 8, Arti-choke; 9, Pen-saco-la; 10, Ar-chip-elago; 11, S-imp-lon and Little Saint Bernard (dog); 13, Mada-gas-car; 14, C-helm-sford; 15, K-hart-oum; 16, Draft, Draught, Draft; 18, Mis-sou-ri; 19, Ma-rat-hon; 20, Co-top-axi; 21, Cotop-ax-i; 22, Wis-Cass-et, Franklin-ville, Lincoln-ville, and Pitt-ston; 23, C-asp-ian; 24, As-par-a-gus; 25, Tar-sus and Man-Chester; 26, Villa-franc-a; and 27, Wig-ht.
Three solvers found all of the answers, and we send them, with our congratulations, $7 each. Their names are: Paul B. Pitkin, Ohio; and Frederic W. Darling and Joslyn Z. Smith, New York. Margaret Fendall James, New Jersey, erred in one question, but she gave a better answered six others of the best ten, and we send her $5. The following six failed on one question each—not always the same one—and we award them $4 each: Mary G. Smith, Minnesota; Arthur M. Anderson, New Jersey; William C. Thayer, Michigan; Edith Starr Churchman, New Jersey; Gertrude G. Wilcox, Massachusetts; and Louise McKinney, Florida.
Winners who live near New York are asked to wait a few days for their prizes, to give time for this number to reach distant competitors. It is most pleasant for all to see awards in the paper, and hardly fair if some know in advance, as they would do were we to send prizes in advance of the paper's publication.
A Visit to a Mountain Palace.
One glorious September morning found us all awake bright and early, for at last, the day of our long-talked-of trip to Biltmore had arrived. Just as the sun rose from behind Glassy Mountain with merry good-byes we climbed into our coach, and rolled away down the avenue. The few miles from "Clovernook" to the queer little place called Buena Vista were soon covered, and we got a view of Asheville. But my eager eyes sought Biltmore. Miles away, up on the mountain-top, I caught a glimpse of gleaming white towers—the palace in the mountains.
We drove into the town of Biltmore, which, when finished, will seem like one of those cities built by the old kings for their amusement. On one side of the way costly buildings surrounded by asphalt walks and gardens; on the other side, manufacturing concerns. A turn in the road brought miles of the estate in view. Everywhere we looked hundreds of men were at work. Over the grassy hills roam the fine cattle, and here is the dairy farm, and there the nursery. At this point we came into the grand drive, which is only half completed. Trees of every variety border it.
Frowning down on us from a great height was what seemed to be a castle on the Rhine, vine-clad and impressive. By the winding road we reached the farther side of the palace; driving through a massive stone-vaulted hallway, on either side of which are the elegant stables, we passed out into a circular court. Across this and through another archway, and a palace of great architectural beauty rose before us. I was dazed at first, and can only remember a few things. The house seems to rise up around a semi-court paved in marble, in the centre of which is a fountain from Pompeii. The walls are carved in life-size statues. Dragons appear to hiss at us from above. Italian sculptors are at work everywhere. Even the ceilings are being carved in some rooms. My attention was called to a grand pavilion and terrace opposite the gardens, guarded by huge Assyrian monsters. Up marble steps and along another pavilion we could see the west side of the place. It reminded me of the Chateau of Chantilly, with its marble terrace and steps leading down to an arbor. Steps on the right lead to the greenhouses and gardens; to the left, beautiful little lakes.
The scenery from here is most beautiful. There are mountains for fifty miles around. At our feet the Swannanoa and French Broad rivers meet. No trees surround the palace. Mr. Vanderbilt expects to make this a winter house and wants the sunshine. I have built my "castles in the air," and just before we started homeward, as I stood there drinking in the beauty, I wondered if Mr. Vanderbilt dreamed in his boyhood days of such a place. We all dream, I suppose, but few can realize our dreams. At ten o'clock, we reached what now seemed plain "Clovernook." It looked so bright and homelike that we sang from our hearts—
"'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."