A Glimpse of Long Island Life.

Harper's Round Table has always been the greatest source of pleasure to us, and has followed us around in our various wanderings, both here and abroad; always awaited with impatience and devoured with avidity. I have just finished that most delightful serial "For King or Country," and think it one of the finest stories I have ever read. I began it one evening after supper, and became so much excited over it that I could not lay it aside until I had reached the last page. My other favorite serials were "Dorymates," "The Red Mustang," and "The Flamingo Feather."

Roslyn is a quiet little town on the north shore, nestled at the foot of Harbor Hill, the highest elevation on the island. It is on Hempstead Harbor, and looking out across the Sound one can see the hills of Connecticut ten miles away. It is a resort much frequented by tourists in the summer-time, and its scenery is most picturesque. With its rolling meadows, deep glens and recesses, and ridges of hills, one might almost imagine Switzerland on a small scale. We are devotedly fond of the place, having lived here the greater part of our lives, and were quite heart-broken at leaving it to go to Europe in early 1889. My sister and I go to a classical school here, and take the regular college preparatory dose of Latin, Greek, and mathematics, which we enjoy immensely.

We are both ardent disciples of photography, and also struggling young acrobats on the treacherous fiddle-string. During our leisure hours we ride, drive, skate, play tennis, or swim—according to season.

Hilda Ward, L.R.T. Roslyn, N. Y.

Queer Signs of Coming Events.

There is old sign that if the housewife drops her dishcloth, "company" is coming. Did you ever hear of it? Then there are signs about the weather, about luck, and about many similar things. We want to know the signs common with you. Do you live in the South, in Canada, or in the West? Tell the Table briefly a few of the signs you oftenest hear. Those that strike us as the oddest and the funniest we will print, giving credit to the senders of them. Cannot our readers abroad help us on the collection? We hope so.

Kinks.

No. 50.—A Diagonal Acrostic.

Here is as pretty a puzzle as one could wish to see. Its answer is simple, and yet fewer things are harder to construct than this double acrostic. It looks easy—but! You remember the story of the fresh Freshman at college who thought proverbs simple. His professor told him to make a few! In the following the primal diagonal reads downwards, the final one upwards. The five short couplet lines throw light on the cross-words:

Two brothers we are said to be, And children of the year; We come each spring, and always bring Some proof that spring is here. The elder fumes and shakes his plumes That spring should be so coy; But, much more mild, the younger child Sheds copious tears of joy.

1.

In every work-shop, every trade, For imitation chiefly made.

2.

When weary on the desert plain, Rest and refreshment here obtain.

3.

In this the low comedian plays, And seeks to catch the vulgar praise.

4.

Some great event doth indicate The time from which I take my date.

5.

Musician I—when David sung, His lyre to me ofttimes he strung.

No. 51.—Double Progressive Magic Square.

Figures 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256. These numbers have been doubled from one upwards, and the puzzle is to place them in a square of three lines, so that the first multiplied by the second, and the product multiplied by the third each way, horizontally, perpendicularly, and diagonally, will produce the same amount. There are eight answers, all alike.

No. 52.—A Sentence Hunt.

The following sentence, standing alone, is in one of the most familiar of books,

"Neither give place to the devil."

Where is it?

No. 53.—Phonetic Charade.

I am the first half you all are to guess,

I, a poor insect, quite tiny or less.

After me comes the two-syllabled verb

Lovers may do and their parents disturb.

Join us, we make the fleet-footed beast

Lovers should copy and rival; at least,

Would those rash lovers reach safely their goal,

They ought to make use of the speed of my whole.

No. 54.—A Geography Lesson.

1. What town in Norway would you prefer not to drive a shying horse past?

2. What city in Trans-Caucasia runs on wheels?

3. What is the most aristocratic river of Europe?

4. What suburb has Bombay that, if you had it, you would try to get rid of?

5. What city of Afghanistan can one person talk in every part at once?

6. What large river of Bosnia can you not drown in?

7. What town in Sweden could you use on your front-yard fence?

Answers to Kinks.

No. 46.—Charade.

Sun-down-(h)er.—Sundowner; a squatter on government land.

No. 47.—For Mathematicians.

He receives all his book debts except $2 in $5 of $15,000, and all except $1.25 in $5 of $6000. His loss corresponds to 2-5 of $15,000 plus 1-4 of $6000 or $7500 in all. Had he received all his book debts he could have paid $5.25 on every $5 he owed. As it is, he can only pay $4 on every $5. Therefore the loss of each $1.25 on each $5 he owes corresponds to the total loss of $7500, and so

As $1.25:$7500::$5:$30,000. Amount he owes, $30,000. This is propounder's solution.

No. 48.—Word Square.

TAFFY

AWARE

FATAL

FRANK

YELKS

No. 49.—Easy Riddle in Prose.

Valuable as a curiosity to any museum. The five pebbles. The one pebble with which David killed Goliath.

A Sailing Trip and a War-Ship.

Last April a friend of my father's told me that a party from Bluffton were going to "Paris Island" to see the man-of-war Indiana, and asked me if I would like to go. I went. We had to ride five miles in wagons, and then we got into a large sail-boat. It was a cold and rough day, and some of the girls got seasick. But other boys and girls and myself had a delightful time. We arrived at our journey's end in four hours, and proceeded to a friend's house.

The dry dock in which the ship lay is a hole thirty-five feet deep, four hundred feet long, and about seventy feet broad, and has steps going down three sides of it. The other end is the gate, which is very large and oblong. It has rigging inside of it, which opens or closes it at will. A pump working all the time keeps the dock dry. We went on board the Indiana, and a marine explained everything to us. The small cannons fire twenty-five times in a minute, and some others sixty or sixty-five times in a minute. The large cannons are in turrets, which can be turned around on a pivot, enabling them to be fired in any direction. We saw some torpedoes which, the marine said, cost twenty-five hundred dollars apiece.

The ship's kitchen is large and cool. There were some sailors cooking, and some were washing clothes. Others were sewing, reading, writing, and talking. Then we went through the petty officers' quarter, which was a kind of long hall, on each side of which were small rooms, and all along this hall sailors were asleep in all kinds of positions. We went to a lower deck in the boat, and our guide showed us where they telegraph to all parts of the ship. There were two rows of boxlike instruments, and in the middle of each was a button. The sailors wore navy-blue blouses and pantaloons and Tam o' Shanters that were trimmed with white braid. The marines' suits were trimmed with gold braid. Instead of Tam o' Shanters they had caps. We went also to see Fort Charles. The moats are three feet deep and five feet broad. They are very thickly overgrown with scrub-oak. We picked up a few shells on the beach as mementos of our trip to the Indiana. I would like a few correspondents.

Emily Mittell. Bluffton, S. C.

Books for a Girls' Chapter.

I have organized a little club of five girls, three thirteen-year-olds, one ten, and one eleven years. We call it the Iris Club, in honor of Juno's hand-maiden between the earth and sky; and also in honor of her, our colors are purple and white. Our dues for the first month are ten cents, and after that five cents. We are going to give these dues to the Home for Friendless Children. I thought it would be nice to take up some noted work which all would enjoy—the oldest as well as the youngest. I love Dickens, but his works are so lengthy, and the plot so long in evolving, that the younger ones might lose interest. Can you suggest a list of books?

Adelaide L. W. Ermentrout. Reading, Pa.

Ellen Douglas Deland's Oakleigh, The Wide, Wide World, which is a standard, but which you may have read, and Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney's books—all of them.

Amateur Illustrator's Outfit.

"What utensils are needed by an amateur illustrator, and where can they be obtained? J. S."

Corning, N. Y.

Illustrations are made in two ways—pen-drawing, and what is called "wash." For the former get good Bristol board, a bottle of drawing-ink, and some small steel pens. The outfit will cost half a dollar, perhaps, and can be had from a dealer in artists' materials, or your bookseller may have them. If he has not, he can get them for you. To draw in wash use ivory black and Chinese white. The drawing is a water-color, and the picture is made with the lights and shades of the background, the ink, and the white. Use water-color paper and small sable brushes—half a dozen assorted sizes. You can get the outfit by sending to the address given in any advertisement. These are all the utensils you need. The rest comes by practice and study.

A Query in Natural History.

Adelaide L. W. Ermentrout asks: "Can any one interested in natural history tell me the name of the queer object which I am going to describe? It is a worm about one inch long and one-fourth of an inch in diameter. The body is brown, but over the back is a patch of green bordered with white. In the centre of this patch is a brown spot. At each end of the body are two horns covered with bristles, and around the body are tufts of bristles like fringe on a cushion. At one end, under the body, is a little head with which it feels its way. There are two tiny eyes at the sides. Its under side has little holes in three parallel rows, by which, I suppose, it clings. It is a hideous creature. What is it, where does it come from, and what does it develop into?"

A Startling Experiment.

Not long ago I went to the American Institute Fair, in New York, and went through a most mysterious performance. At one end of the hall was the "illustrated" X rays. To see this wonder, you pay ten cents and put your hand in front of a tube and peep through an instrument which looks like a stereoscope. At first you see nothing but a dark object; then, as if by magic, a faint outline of the hand appears, and then—horrors—you see the bones—the actual bones—of your own hand with all their ugliness!

This is a most wonderful experiment, and, if possible, I would advise all those who can, to "see the bones of your own hand." Some timid persons may shrink from this ghastly sight, but I firmly believe that they would learn something by seeing this marvellous scientific experiment.

Fred. W. Pangborn, Jun. Hackensack, N. J.

The Lesson of a Life.

The late George du Maurier was an example of a man who worked his way to fame and fortune. True, when just turned sixty he had a wonderful "run of luck," but it is to be remembered that his genius had been present all the long up-hill years before sixty. The trouble was, the world would not see it.

Daniel Webster, upon the conclusion of the greatest effort of his life, that wonderful speech in the United States Senate, was congratulated on being able to make such a speech off-hand. Asked if it really was extempore, as it appeared, he replied, "Yes, but I have been all my life preparing it."

It was much this way with the late novelist. Du Maurier wrote and the world applauded. Quite simple. Quite easy. Not so. Du Maurier studied for many, many years, and faced discouragements that would have sent weaker men to the wall. Like Webster, his effort at last seemed almost "extempore" in spite of the fact that his custom was to write, rewrite, tear up, write again and change; but he had been all his life a student, a patient toiler, piling up a capital of experience, not knowing whether he should ever be able to realize any thing from it or not. In spite of Du Maurier's phenomenal success near the close of his life, his personal history is a lesson to young persons in this: That the price of success must be paid, just as the price must be paid for land, for gold, or for anything else of value.

"Chinese" by the Way of South Africa.

From distant South Africa comes the following. It is not quite new, if it did come so far, but we print it, partly because it always stimulates, and partly to oblige the sender, J. G. Tanté, who is a young stamp-collector of that distant place where we have so many other Round Table members—Somerset East, Cape Colony, South Africa. Here is the story:

A Chinaman died, leaving his property by will to his three sons as follows: "To Fuen-huen, the eldest, one-half thereof; to Nu-pin, his second son, one-third thereof; and to Ding-bat, his youngest, one-ninth thereof."

When the property was inventoried, it was found to consist of nothing more nor less than seventeen elephants, and it puzzled these three heirs how to divide the property according to the terms of the will without chopping up seventeen elephants, and thereby seriously impairing their value. Finally they applied to a wise neighbor, Suen-punk, for advice. Suen-punk had an elephant of his own. He drove it into the yard with the seventeen, and said:

"Now we will suppose that your father left these eighteen elephants. Fuen-huen, take your half and depart." So Fuen-huen took nine elephants and went his way.

"Now, Nu-pin," said the wise man, "take your third and go." So Nu-pin took six elephants and travelled.

"Now, Ding-bat," said the wise man, "take your ninth and begone." So Ding-bat took two elephants and vamosed. Then Suen-punk took his own elephant and drove him home again.

Query: Was the property divided according to the terms of the will?

When office work has tried the nerves And taxed both hands and brain, A quick, cool wash with Ivory serves To soothe and ease the strain.

Copyright, 1896, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.