Three years ago the Table received a letter from a young friend resident in Brousse, Turkey in Asia, a city on the opposite side of the Marmora Sea from Constantinople. It was written in a funny jumble of English, German, and perhaps a few French and Turkish words thrown in, and enclosed a small handful of Turkish stamps. We replied to it, sending some Columbian stamps, and asking the writer to tell us about his home, his school, the fruits, etc. That our letter was understood we are not sure, but after three years we received a second letter, the contents of which, in so far as we are able to read them, follow. In accordance with the writer's injunction we omit his name, although he gives it to us. This secrecy vividly reveals a condition of life quite difficult for Americans to appreciate.
Brousse, 7 Janvir, 1896.
Sirs:—I have recive your lettre at 1892, with the timbers. I have recive timbres Americain, and thank you of them. You ask me somme knews of Turc. You have herd of cors that since 1893 the Turc Sultan cach many Armenians in Constantinople and kille them, and gave them very much trobles. At las' the Sultan tho't he kille alles the Armenians in Turkai. So he atak furst in Sassoun alle blerc vois, with alle kinds of badnes. Sins that time we alle hat tho't he woldn't do any more so, but this year he maik just his mind to kille alle piples.
We have in Armeni very much villeges, and much wicked soldat of Turc. The soldat herd the Sultan said alle Armens to be kille, so they kille young mens first, then children, then old piples, take alle money and maik much trobles. So many villeges burnt I don't know nemes—Harpoot, Kayseri, Abbikir, Sevaz, Trabson, and most richest citys Armen. The Turc Sultan so pleased at alle many deths, he maik new pachas of Turcs who do killing.
Somme time, soldat do not kille quick, but take Armeni to moske and say, "Pray to Mehmet," and alle time keck poor Armeni so they not tell whether prayin' or not. Then they cut nos off, and this winter blood of many Armeni was on the snow. I here my friends say sixty thousand Armeni ded.
Now that we are alle our hards broken, we have a good many (multitude) orphens, who comme to Constantinople by our Patriarch Armeni. We are oblige to feed and dress them, which a great burden on us alle is. And we must dress alle in secret from Turc, bicos he dus not wich it. The winter is very cold, and in one haus is fifty piples, alle, I am told, without dresses. We in Constantinople alle sending dresses and money to Armeni Beyble Hausse. The piples there are much kind, and we love them bicos they help our piples.
In my furst lettre I am very sorry to give you bad news, but we hope Jisus will saife us, when I shall right you good news. If you will rite the repons of my lettre, plese don't right it to Brousse, and don't send it to Turkisch post, bicos if the Turcs see my naim right by Inglich rightinks, they open the lettre, find me and put me in prisen. Send repons, plese, to Inglich post restant, or to Beyble Hausse, or direct to Mrs. T. A. Baldwin, Brousse. I think that I have much mistaiks made. Have I? Then exqus them. My love to alle yung piples.
P. S.—You must not right at alle my name in the lettre. Again I say, exqus me. I have right so (en desordre). Recive mes sinsere salutation.
Stars and Planets.
Upon inquiry, I have found the answer to the question, "Why does a star twinkle while a planet shines clear and steady?" to be as follows:
A planet is an appreciable disk, generally of considerable magnitude; it is owing to the large size of the body that we behold its reflected light clear and steady. A star, on the other hand, no matter how large it may appear, is nothing more than a self-luminous point—a point, you understand; therefore, any object floating in the air between it and the earth will intercept its light for an instant, and thereby cause a "twinkle." Again, on its way to us the light of a star passes through media of varying densities; it is refracted—bent out of its course—and turned aside for an instant from our eyes. This occurring many, many times per minute makes the star appear to twinkle to an observer on the earth. There are many other ways of explaining the phenomenon, the majority of which, however, are hypothetical and involved. One of the more commonly accepted theories is that storms occurring in the atmosphere of the star cause its photosphere, or luminous envelope, to transmit to us light of varying intensity.
Our knowledge concerning the stars, as a professor of chemistry in our college recently informed his class, has resulted in the following revision of the old nursery rhyme:
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
I know exactly what you are,
For with my spectroscopic ken
I know you're naught but hydrogen;
Twinkling there so very bright,
In the distant realms of light."
Simon Theodore Stern.
New York City.
The Game of Kinkajou.
Shuffleboard is an admirable game. It calls forth much skill, and were it not for the bad uses to which it is often put would be more generally enjoyed. The regulation shuffleboard occupies considerable space, but if you would enjoy a miniature game, dubbed Kinkajou, your board is to be found on the well-polished surface of the dining table, which, by-the-way, must be rectangular. Fourteen inches from each end draw a light line with chalk. Your "weights" are half-dollars, three for each player. Two or four may play. The prime object of the game is to so slide the pieces that (1) they will touch the chalk-line—scoring 5, or (2) reach the space within the line and the end of the table—scoring 10, or (3) overlap the end of the table or the sides within the line—scoring 25.
Two players, A and B, are at either end of the table, say. They play in turn, each sliding his pieces to his opponent's end. If A slides his first piece so that it all but reaches the line, he will try to strike the first piece with his second, and "shove" it to one of the three positions, if possible, placing the second piece also in one of them. With his third piece he may choose to try the slim chance of shoving to score 25.
With two at the table there is no opportunity for playing on one's opponent; but where four are playing there is a field for really scientific plays. Supposing A, B, C, and D are at the table, and that A and B, C and D are partners. A and C occupy one end, B and D the other. A's and B's pieces are turned "heads," C's and D's "tails," by way of distinction. A begins the game by sliding her pieces. For example, she has succeeded in placing two within and one without the line. C, who is A's antagonist, tries first to displace the latter's right-hand piece within the line, and succeeds in sending it off the table, his own piece remaining on the 10 space. C's second piece is aimed for A's outside one, with the intention of sending it also clear of the table. This is done, and C's piece remains on the line. C, for his last slide, sends his piece toward A's left-hand piece within the line, but ingloriously misses it, while his own piece falls off the table. The score of the first "slide" is now taken, resulting in 15 for C's and 10 for A's side. B and D now slide their pieces, and at the end of the tenth slide the scores are compared.
A still more elaborate game of partners may be played where the four are seated together at one end of the table. In this game a score-keeper must seat himself at the opposite end to catch the pieces and to point out by whom each is played. Partners do not sit together. The plays are made in turn, beginning at the left hand. Thus, if the order were A, C, B, D, C would have A's pieces to play on, B would have C's, with an eye to his partner's (A's) pieces, while D would have A's and B's, with D's to care for. At the end of D's play the score of each side is carefully taken.
The writer has whiled away many a half-hour with this little game, which combines in a small way billiards and "curling," and he hopes that though not a "Round" Table game, it, nevertheless, will be enjoyed by many a Lancelot or Elaine.