As they approached the camp they were astonished to hear Jalap Coombs singing in bellowing tones the rollicking old sea chant of "Roll a Man Down!"
"A flying-fish-catcher from old Hong-Kong—
Yo ho! roll a man down—
A flying-fish-catcher comes bowling along;
Give us some time to roll a man down,
Roll a man up and roll a man down,
Give us some time to roll a man down.
From labbord to stabbord away we go—
Yo ho! roll a man down."
Jalap's voice was not musical, but it possessed a mighty volume, and as the quaint sea chorus roared and echoed through the stately forest, the very trees appeared to be listening in silent wonder to the unaccustomed sounds. Even Musky, Luvtuk, big Amook, and the other dogs seemed by their dismal howlings to be expressing either appreciation or disapprobation of the sailor-man's efforts.
The performers in this open-air concert were too deeply intent on their own affairs to pay any heed to the approach of the returning sledge party, who were thus enabled to come within full view of a most extraordinary scene unnoticed. Just beyond the camp, in a semicircle, facing the fire, a dozen dogs, resting on their haunches, lifted both their voices and sharp-pointed noses to the sky. On the opposite side of the fire sat Jalap Coombs holding Nel-te in his arms, rocking him to and fro in time to the chorus that he was pouring forth with the full power of his lungs, and utterly oblivious to everything save his own unusual occupation of putting a baby to sleep.
"Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!" roared Phil and Serge, unable to restrain their mirth a moment longer. "Oh my! Oh my! Oh, Mr. Coombs, you'll be the death of me yet! What ever are you doing? Didn't know you could sing! What a capital nurse you make! What a soft voice for lullabies! The dogs, too! Oh dear! I shall laugh at the thought of this if I live to be a hundred! Don't mind us, though. Keep right on. Please do!"
But the concert was ended. Jalap Coombs sprang to his feet with a startled yell, and dropped the child, who screamed with the fright of his sudden awakening. The dogs, whose harmonious howlings were so abruptly interrupted, slunk away with tails between their legs, and hid themselves in deepest shadows.
"There, there, little chap. Don't be frightened," cried Phil, darting forward and picking up the child, though still shaking with laughter. "It's all right now. Brother Phil will protect you, and not let the big man frighten you any more."
"I frighten him indeed!" retorted Jalap Coombs, indignantly. "He was sleeping quiet and peaceful as a seal pup; and I were just humming a bit of a ditty that useter be sung to me when I were a kid, so's he'd have something pleasant to dream about. Then you young swabs had to come creeping up and yell like a couple of wild hoodoos, and set the dogs to howling and scare the kid, to say nothing of me, which ef I had ye aboard ship I'd masthead ye both till ye larnt manners. Oh, ye may snicker! But I have my opinion all the same of any man as'll wake a sleeping child, specially when he's wore out with crying, all on account of being desarted. And I'm not the only one nuther. There was old Kite Roberson who useter clap a muzzle onto his wife's canary whenever she'd get the kids to sleep, for fear the critter'd bust inter singing. But it's all right. You will know how it is yourselves some day."
Phil, seeing that, for the first time since he had known him, the mate was thoroughly indignant, set out to smooth his ruffled feelings.
"Why, Mr. Coombs," he said, "we didn't mean to startle you, but those wretched dogs kept up such a howling that we couldn't make ourselves heard as we neared camp. I'm sure I don't see how you could think we were laughing at you. It was those absurd dogs, and you'd have laughed yourself if you'd looked up and seen them. I'm sure it was awfully good of you to take so much trouble over this little fellow, and put him so nicely to sleep with your sing— I mean with your humming, though I assure you we didn't hear a hum."
"Waal," replied Jalap Coombs, greatly mollified by Phil's attitude. "I warn't humming very loud, not nigh so loud as I had been at fust. Ye see, I were kinder tapering off so as to lay the kid down, and begin to get supper 'gainst you kim back."
"Yes, I see," said Phil, almost choking with suppressed laughter. "But how did it happen that you were compelled to act as nurse? The little chap seemed happy enough when we went away."
"So he were, till he found you was gone. Then he begun to pipe his eye and set storm signals, and directly it come on to blow a hurricane with heavy squalls. So I had to stand by. Fust off I thought the masts would surely go; but I took a reef here and there, and kinder got things snugged down, till after a whilt the sky broke, the sun kim out, and fair weather sot in once more."
"Well," said Phil, admiringly, "you certainly acted with the judgment of an A No. 1 seaman, and I don't believe even your esteemed friend Captain Robinson could have done better. We shall call on you whenever our little pilot gets into troubled waters again, and feel that we are placing him in the best possible hands."
At which praise Jalap Coombs was greatly pleased, and said as how he'd be proud at all times to stand by the kid. Thus on the same day that little Nel-te McLeod lost his parents he found a brother and two stanch friends.
"Here, boys, is a piece of legislation which will add a new series of stamps to your collections," said Mr. Copeland, as he glanced up from his morning paper. "The bill transferring the printing of stamps to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing has just become a law, and hereafter Uncle Sam will manufacture his own stamps, as well as his own paper money."
"Why, father, if they make them here, we can see just how it's done!" exclaimed Donald, the eldest of the Copeland boys, who, with his brothers Jack and Ezra, was now experiencing the severest stage of the "stamp fever."
"Huh!" grunted the latter—nicknamed "The Parson," from his old-fashioned ways and a solemn assumption of wisdom. "Perhaps they'll not let you know anything at all about it. Bobby Simonds told me that the big company in New York that has always made 'em is awful particular about letting people see their machinery and things; and Bobby ought to know 'cause his uncle's an engraver there."
"Are they going to make all the stamps here in Washington?" broke in May, the baby of the family. "That'll be nice for you boys,'cause you can get 'em cheaper at the factory, can't you?"
"That's just like a girl," laughed Jack. "Anybody would think they were going to sell stamps by the yard."
"Well, my boy," said Mr. Copeland, "your sister is right, in a sense, as under this act the Post-office Department will buy its stamps wholesale from the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, at a nominal price per thousand, without reference to their face value. I think you also are mistaken, Parson, as the public will doubtless be as free to inspect the manufacture of stamps as they now are to see the process of bank-note-making. When the stamp-printing plant is established, there should be a great deal in it to interest you youngsters. What do you say to a tour of investigation some Saturday?"
Their father's suggestion delighted the children, who waited eagerly for the fulfilment of the promise.
This came on a bright October morning, when the little party climbed the hill beyond the towering Washington Monument, and reached the grim brick building which is known as the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.
Here they were shown into a small reception-room, and kept waiting, with a throng of other sight-seers, until a card from the chief procured for them a special guide through the building. As she led them through a long corridor, this lady explained something of the complete and ingenious system which is in force here to prevent fraud or loss to the government. No visitor is permitted inside the building without one of the guides especially detailed for this service, while the work of each of the hundreds of employé's is so carefully checked and recorded that even the most insignificant error is readily traceable. Ink, paper, the engravers' dies, the printers' plates, are all given out on properly signed receipts, and until all are accounted for, even to the tiniest scrap of paper, the employés who have handled them are not permitted to leave the building; so that only by a widespread plot could all these safeguards be successfully eluded.
The little party was now shown into a very long room, at one end of which was ranged a row of compartments like sentry-boxes. In each of these sat a silent engraver, bent over the small square of steel upon which he was cutting some part of the design for paper money or stamps. The plates from which the stamps were formerly printed are the property of the government, so that the old designs, with a slight modification, are still in use. This modification consists of a trefoil mark placed in the upper corner of the new stamps, which will serve to distinguish them from the old issues printed by the American Bank-note Company. The work of the engravers is necessarily so painstaking and slow that the original dies are considered too expensive to use in the printing-presses. Thus, after the engraver has completed a die, it is subjected to a hardening process, and the design multiplied indefinitely upon soft steel plates by what is known as the transfer-press. The children were shown a long row of these presses, as well as the great vaults where all the designs, dies, and plates are locked up after the day's work. From the silence of the engravers' department they were led into the din and clatter of the press-room below. Here they found the new steam-presses as well as old-fashioned hand-presses in operation, and were able to see every detail of the actual printing of stamps.
The hand-presses are worked by a plate-printer and one assistant, the printer first inking and polishing the engraved plate over a series of small gas-jets, after which it is placed on the press. His assistant now lays a dampened sheet of paper upon the plate, the printer gives the press a turn, and a sheet of bright new stamps is drawn out at the other side. This work is done quickly and accurately, but it is a very slow process compared with that of the steam-presses, which turn out sheets of four hundred stamps each at the rate of one hundred thousand stamps an hour. The steam-presses carry four plates on an endless chain around the sides of a large square, in the circuit of which the plates are automatically heated to the proper temperature, inked, wiped off, and printed. The blank paper is laid on the plates by one assistant, while a second helper takes out the printed sheet. The printer in charge of the press has the most difficult part of the work, which consists in polishing the plate with his bare palms after it has been mechanically inked. This must be done so delicately as to leave neither too much nor too little ink upon the plate, but only just enough to give a clean, fine impression.
The presses clattered and clanked, and the children watched with breathless interest while a great stack of the dampened paper disappeared rapidly, sheet by sheet, through the press, reappearing again to be stacked in a second neat pile in the form of thousands upon thousands of new red two-cent stamps.
Besides the ordinary issues, the young investigators were much interested in seeing the printing of revenue stamps, of the long-strip stamps for cigar-boxes, and other tobacco stamps, and particularly the new two-cent stamps for playing-cards.
Having watched to their entire satisfaction the various movements of the great presses, the children began to feel that the object of their visit had been realized, and that there was nothing more to see. They were therefore somewhat surprised to learn that the printing of the stamps is merely the beginning of the work upon them, and that a number of very important things must happen to these small squares of red, blue, brown, and purple before they are ready to be sold through the little window in the post-office. After they are printed the sheets must be dried and pressed out, gummed, dried and pressed again, the sheets perforated and cut apart, trimmed, and, in addition, carefully counted before and after each of these operations.
In the early days of postage-stamps, and for several years after they first came into use, two serious difficulties presented themselves—i.e., the gumming and separating of the stamps. For a time a thick muddy mucilage was used, which curled up the sheets in a very inconvenient way. Then, again, before the ingenious device of perforation was hit upon, it was necessary to cut the stamps apart with a pair of scissors. Imagine a post-master in these busy days supplying his customers by the scissors method!
Fortunately a clever Frenchman conceived the plan of punching a series of small holes between the stamps, and his invention was promptly introduced into this country. The children were now eager to see the finishing processes of stamp-making, and so followed their guide into a large room, where they were greeted by a rush of warm air. Here their guide showed them the method of gumming the stamps and the curious apparatus used for the purpose. Along the entire length of the room, with a narrow passage between, are ranged a series of wooden boxes, quite sixty feet in length. These are heated by steam, and through each box passes a sort of double endless chain. The sheets are fed, face down, into this queer machine, and passed under a roller, which allows the escape of just enough gum to coat the sheet thinly and evenly. The sheet is now caught on the endless chain by two automatic clamps, and carried into the long hot-box. It takes only a few moments for the journey through, but the sheets appear at the other end perfectly dried, and ready to be trimmed and perforated.
As the method of gumming stamps used by the various bank-note companies has been a carefully guarded and secret process, the Bureau of Engraving and Printing has been forced to invent its own machine for this purpose. The sheets are gummed at the rate of about eighteen a minute, which is certainly a vast improvement over the old method of putting on the gum by hand with a brush.
When the children were weary of watching the funny little brass fingers move along and hurry the sheets off into the hot-box, they turned to a corner where a workman was busy over a series of vats and buckets mixing the gum, which looked very clean and nice, and is made of dextrine, a vegetable product. The guide now showed them how the gummed sheets are pressed smooth for perforation, and then led them into a room where a score or more of odd little machines were in swift operation. Each machine is tended by two workwomen, most of whom wear fantastic caps of paper to shade their eyes, as the sheets must be fed into the machines with absolute accuracy in order that the perforations shall come in the right place. Each sheet has register lines printed in the margin, which must be adjusted exactly under a black thread fastened across the feeding-table. A quick whir of the wheels puts a neat line of pin-holes lengthwise between the stamps, cutting the sheet in half at the same time. The next machine perforates the sheet crosswise, and again cuts it in two, so that the sheets are now divided up into the regulation size of one hundred stamps each.
The children thought the minute disks of paper punched out by the perforators too insignificant to be considered, and were accordingly much surprised to learn that the sheets again have to be smoothed out, under great pressure, to reduce their bulk and remove the "burr" caused by the perforation.
After inspecting the final process of making up the stamps into packages, to be mailed to the postmasters all over the country, the children were taken by their father to the office of the chief of the bureau. Here they received a cordial welcome, and learned many interesting and curious details about stamps and stamp-making. About 3,000,000,000 stamps are annually furnished the Post-office Department by the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, at the rate of five cents a thousand. Ninety per cent. of these are the two-cent stamps, and according to the last Post-office report the revenue from the sale of stamps is a little over $6,000,000 a month.
"By-the-way," observed the chief, "you young people should be very much interested in the Report of the Third Assistant Postmaster-General for 1893, which contains a carefully prepared and elaborately descriptive list of every stamp and postal card issued by the United States government. It must seem hard to you stamp collectors that the most beautiful stamps issued—the newspaper and periodical stamps—are not permitted to be sold to the public. One of the chief reasons for this is that the values of these small squares of paper run up to such high figures, viz., $24, $36, $48, and $60, that they would offer a great field in counterfeiters if generally circulated. There are some queer denominations among these stamps, notably the $1.92 stamp, which is about to be discontinued, and some very pretty colors. That reminds me—did they show you our ink-mills in your tour of inspection?"
Mr. Copeland explained that they had not seen the mills, so the children had the pleasure of being escorted by the chief himself into the grimy region which is seldom penetrated by the public. Here they saw the colors ground and mixed in small mills, from which the workmen—smeared from top to toe in a rainbow of colors—gathered the thick greasy ink by the bucketful. About one hundred thousand pounds of dry color is used annually for the two-cent stamps alone, the color being mixed with an equal quantity of burnt linseed oil, making two hundred thousand pounds of ink. Of course a large percentage of this color is lost in inking and polishing the plate.
The tour was now ended, and leaving the oily little wheels to their ceaseless grinding, the children, with a grateful good-by to their new friend, went home with their young heads full of the interesting things they had seen in Uncle Sam's stamp factory.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
Girls who are terrified by thunder and lightning lose a great deal of enjoyment during the summer, when we have storms as well as sunshine. It may not be quite possible for every one to help being afraid when the sky is black with clouds and the lightning's flash, but it is within the power of most people to control the expression of fright. Once or twice having resolutely refrained from showing your terror, you will be surprised and pleased to find the terror itself lessening.
I know persons who go through life in a sort of bondage to fear of various kinds. They tremble and turn pale, or grow hysterical and cry, when the dark clouds gather and the thunders roll. There is a pretty German hymn which begins,
"It thunders, but I tremble not,
My trust is firm in God,
His arm of strength I've ever sought
Through all the way I've trod."
I advise all of you who need the advice to remember that God rules in the heavens, and His hand sends the storms. Trust in God when you are afraid—really trust, and you will grow calm and be happy. Another grain of comfort may be found in the fact that when you see the bright zig-zagging flash and hear the rumbling thunder, the danger for you is over. You will never see or hear the electric current which hurts or kills. It is far too swift to wait and warn you in that way.
Many of us have some pet aversion, which goes far to make us cowards in one direction, even if in other conditions and situations we are brave. I have seen women almost faint at the sight of a poor little scurrying mouse, and have heard others scream at a bat or a beetle. I confess to a very great dislike on my own part to things with wings and with stings, especially those which fly in at the window when the lamp is lighted, and buzz and fizz and snap and pounce and bounce. But I would be ashamed of myself if I could not keep from shrieking in the presence of these innocent little marauders. Depend upon it, girls, we can display a cool front and wear a brave face if we choose to do so, let what happen. It is all a question of will.
Numbers of travellers never get the full meed of pleasure when on a journey because they carry too great a load of care. They fancy that this or that will happen. They are distressed because of accidents which may possibly occur. They make the friends with them uncomfortable because they suggest dreadfully unpleasant catastrophes as just around the corner. When you think of it, this behavior is both stupid and silly. Trains and boats are in the hands, as a rule, of competent and responsible persons, who wish to take their passengers and freight safe to the journey's end. You, being neither captain, nor engineer, nor conductor, are called upon to feel no concern in the matter.
I wish I could impress on every young girl the beauty and dignity of simple, quiet courage. Not recklessness, nor indifference to danger, but a gentle acceptance of every situation, and a rising above fear. Fear is the feeling of a slave. It fetters one's mind, and makes one's body clumsy and awkward. The Bible says, "Fear hath torment." It is usually ignoble, not the appropriate sentiment for bright, capable, kind-hearted, and winning girls like you. Resolve to put fear under your feet, and walk through the world with hearts superior to it in its every form and phase.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Stamp and Coin Collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Stamp Department.
One of the first requisites of any science is to know its terms. Stamp-collecting is now not only a hobby, but an exact science as well.
Formerly little note was taken of the condition of stamps, but to-day the smallest details are important. You have doubtless noticed that almost all stamps issued during the past thirty years have "scalloped" edges. These are perforations made to enable persons using stamps to detach one or more without using scissors. Previous to 1856 all stamps were printed on sheets of paper, and had to be cut off one by one with a knife or scissors. These are known as "unperforated." Many experiments were made to do away with the necessity of using scissors, and we illustrate the different methods used. Gradually all nations have adopted the "regular" perforations, which consist of a series of holes punched out along all four edges of each stamp. Now this difference between perforated and unperforated stamps makes not a little difference in the prices asked. For instance, the 24c. U.S. of 1851 unperforated would be cheap at $100, whereas the same stamp perforated is worth $2.50 only. The Victoria twopenny of 1867 is worth $1.50 perforated, while $25 is asked for the unperforated. So none of the Round Table collectors should trim the edges of any stamps they may have. Next week we will illustrate the scale of regular perforations.
The so-called error of the 5c. red-brown U.S. 1890 issue in the color of the 4c. dark brown has been demonstrated to be a changeling, by a very simple chemical test. The dealer who offered these stamps for sale at $30 each has notified the thirty-seven people who bought copies at that price that their money will be returned on demand.
I would advise all collectors to keep all the different shades of the U.S. stamps which they get at little or no expense, but to avoid paying any extra for shades of current or late stamps.
A Penrose Scull.—The common stamps of the U.S. are worth about $50 to $100 per million if in good condition. The 10c. brown is quoted at 10c.
Buckskin.—This is not the place to quote arguments in favor of stamp-collecting. Most boys, and many men, find great pleasure in this pursuit. Ask one of them to tell you of its pleasures.
H. W.—There are two varieties of Baltimore and Ohio Telegraph stamps. One is worth $2 each, the regular perforated are worth 65c. per set.
Arthur L. Evans.—The 10c. green is worth 6c. The 6c. and 8c. Columbians can still be bought at face in many post-offices.
Philatus.
On Monday black, at four o'clock,
The key is turned in the school-room lock,
And I've given old Time a terrible knock,
For the head of the Week is broken.
At four of a Tuesday afternoon,
The hour that cometh none too soon,
I strap my books to a merry tune,
For the neck of the Week is broken.
As the four glad strokes on Wednesday ring,
My cap in the air I gayly fling,
And homeward run as I loudly sing,
"The grip of the Week is broken."
Ah, welcome the sound of the Thursday's four,
And the joyous thought of "but one day more
That opens and shuts the school-room door,"
For the back of the Week is broken.
But sweeter than story in prose or rhyme
The musical notes of the Friday chime,
For the Week lies dead in the arms of Time,
And the school-boy's chains are broken.
L. H. Bruce.
"Now while the lords and their followers were gathered in the great church," the Story-teller said, as Jack and Mollie began to show some curiosity as to what this miracle for which Merlin hoped might be, "there was discovered in the church-yard near the altar a great black stone, about four feet square, on the middle of which stood a steel anvil a foot in height. Thrust into this, with its shining point visible, was a beautiful sword, and about it, written in letters of gold, were these words:
"Who put it there?" asked Jack.
"I don't know," said the Story-teller. "It was there, and that is all I know about it, and the people when they saw it were full of wonder, and marvelled greatly to read the words written about it. I imagine, however, that Merlin and the Archbishop had something to do with it, for when the people went into the church, and told the Archbishop what they had seen, he did not appear to be at all surprised, but commanded all to remain within the church and not to touch the sword until the service was over. The people and the gathered knights and all their followers obeyed the Archbishop's command, for they did not dare do otherwise; but, when the service was over, they all rushed out into the church-yard to see the stone and the anvil, with the wonderful sword stuck into it. And then, when the lords had read the golden inscription upon the stone, each made an effort to pull the sword out of its anvil-sheath, but not one of them could do it. They pulled and tugged and pulled and tugged, but it was all in vain. They neither broke nor budged it, and the Archbishop of Canterbury said it was evident that none of those present could claim to be the rightful King. He added that he believed that the right one would yet be discovered, and suggested that ten of the best knights of the land should be made a guard of honor to watch over the sword until New-Year's day, when any one who wished might come and in the presence of all make the effort to pull it from the anvil. This was agreed to, and it was decided to have a great tournament upon the coming New-Year's day, after which the trial should be made. This kept the knights and their followers in London, for it was important that all should be present at the trial, success in which meant so much, not only to the successful man, but to the whole kingdom as well."
"Didn't Merlin try to pull it out?" asked Mollie. "If he put it in, I should think he could have pulled it out, and then he could have been King himself."
"Possibly; but I imagine he didn't want to be King, for one thing, and, for another, he had been too good a friend to Arthur, and to Uther, his father, to wish to betray them. The Chronicles do not say whether he tried it or not, but if he did, he failed; and so the week between Christmas and New-Year's went by without any one's having moved the sword; and the lords made their preparations for the tournament, and many of them, I have no doubt, spent a great deal of their time getting their muscle up in the hope of winning the crown.
"On the New-Year's day all again assembled in the church, and, after the service, proceeded to the field where the tournament was to take place. Sir Ector, followed by his son, Sir Kaye, who had himself been made a knight, and Arthur, rode with them, when it was discovered that Sir Kaye had left his sword behind him at his father's lodging. Summoning Arthur, he requested him to return to the house and get it for him. This Arthur readily consented to do, for he was fond of Kaye, whom, as we have already seen, he supposed to be his own brother. Turning his horse about, he rode full speed back to the lodgings; but when he arrived there he found every one had gone to the tournament, and he could not find his foster-brother's sword. For a moment he was perplexed. He knew it would never do for Sir Kaye to be found at a tournament without his sword, for the sword was the sign of his knighthood, and a knight who had lost it would have been considered unworthy of the honor which had been bestowed upon him. Suddenly Arthur bethought him of the sword in the anvil, and without much hope that he should succeed where so many others had failed, he resolved to make the effort to loosen it anyhow, and in case of success to carry it to Sir Kaye.
"So he rode to the church-yard, and found it as deserted as Sir Ector's lodgings had been. The ten knights who had been left to guard the sword, like every one else in London, had gone to the tournament. Dismounting from his horse, Arthur strode into the yard, and grasping the handle of the sword as firmly as he could, pulled at it fiercely, when, to his surprise and delight, it came out of the anvil. Without stopping to think of all that this meant for him, he remounted his steed, and rode hastily back to Sir Kaye, to whom he handed the weapon.
"The instant Sir Kaye looked at it he knew it to be the sword of the stone, and putting his spurs to his horse, he dashed to where his father stood, and, showing him the glittering blade, told him that it was the sword of the stone, and said,
"'I must be King of this land!'
"But Sir Ector was cautious, so he questioned Kaye closely as to how he had come by the weapon, and he made him go with him and Arthur back to the church and swear to what he said; and Sir Kaye told him the whole story—how he had left his own sword at home and had sent Arthur back for it; how Arthur had gone there, and not finding any one, had bethought him of the sword in the anvil, and had taken it, though no one had witnessed the act."
"Whereupon Sir Ector made Arthur return the sword to the anvil, and himself tried to pull it out, but it would not come; and then he made Sir Kaye try it, and still it would not come; and then bidding Arthur make an effort, the boy did so, and it came out easily, at which both Sir Kaye and his father knelt before Arthur, and hailed him as the man who should be rightful King of England."
With the New England Interscholastic games next Saturday the season of track and field athletics—as far as school leagues are concerned—will practically come to a close. The season has been a most successful one. Records have been broken on every hand, even in events where it was supposed that many a year must go by before that performance could be bettered. This excellent showing is the natural result of the hard training and constant energy of the hundreds of runners and jumpers in the schools; and the ever-increasing number of contestants all over the country proves that track and field sports have secured a firm foothold, and now deserve to be recognized as equal in importance to both football and baseball. In the vicinity of New York, at least, there are fully twice as many who indulge in track athletics as there are baseball and football players. In other regions I think the proportions are more nearly equal. The growth of these sports has been very rapid. In almost every centre there is an Interscholastic Association or League, and the daily newspapers, not only of the East but of the West, have been printing reports of scholastic meets for the past two months. The work of the school athletes has decidedly become a factor in amateur sport. In some of the school leagues there are better men than the colleges can boast of.
The annual meeting of the Inter-collegiate Athletic Association at the Berkeley Oval, usually characterized as the "Mott Haven games," because they were first held at Mott Haven, brings together the best college athletic talent from all parts of this broad country. This year a team from the University of California travelled three thousand miles overland to contest for the championship on that day. Besides them, an unknown runner with a rapid gait and a queer cap came out of the West, and left the crack sprinters of the East straining and striving behind him, while he, with a broad smile, pocketed two gold medals, and carried them back to Iowa. I don't believe there was ever any better sport at Olympia, and if the colleges can be so successful in these things, and can draw men to compete at these games from every point of the compass, why should not the schools follow their example, and form one great Interscholastic Association, and have a big meeting once a year? There is no reason why they should not. I can think of hardly a single obstacle in the way of the formation of such a league. All that is needed is that some energetic individual or individuals, or some enthusiastic and sporting spirited Athletic Association take the matter in hand and put it through. Once started, the routine of organization would roll along as if on wheels.
It is not necessary that every school in the country should be asked to join at the outset. On the contrary, I would suggest that the greater Association under discussion be made up of the various I.S.A.A.'s now existing, and that the big annual games be a contest among the winners of the annual games of the individual associations. This scheme commends itself, because only the best men from every locality could compete at the meeting, and the number of entries could in that manner be limited. We have all had experience with a superfluity of contestants, and we know what interminable trial heats mean. If the movement to form a general Interscholastic Association should be started in New York, there would be no lack of leagues already in good standing to call upon for membership. There are the New York and the Long Island I.S.A.A.'s right here. Near by we have the New England I.S.A.A., the Western Massachusetts I.S.A.A., the Maine I.S.A.A., the Connecticut I.S.A.A., the Pennsylvania Inter-academic A.A., the Dartmouth I.S.A.A., and the New York State I.S.A.A. of Syracuse. In addition to these there are many others that I need not mention here. A large and influential league in the West is the Academic Athletic League of the Pacific Coast, of whose prowess on track and field I have had occasion to speak of many times in this Department.
Of course, one of the first questions that would arise upon the organization of such an Interscholastic Association would be, Where shall the annual meeting be held? The answer to that is simply, hold it where it will be most convenient for the greatest number of schools interested. It would not be advisable to hold the meeting in a different city each year, for the Portland and Bangor athletes would not care to journey to Philadelphia, neither would the Pennsylvanians care to travel up into Maine. New York is a central location, but in many respects it would be a poor place for a meeting of the kind under consideration. The ideal spot, to my mind, would be New Haven. This for two reasons principally. It is half-way between Boston and Philadelphia, which are the centres of the New England and Pennsylvania districts; and it is also about equally distant from New York and Hartford, which are the homes of the N.Y. & L.I.I.S.A.A's, and the Connecticut I.S.A.A. The second good reason is that Yale University is situated at New Haven, and I have no doubt that the authorities of college athletics there would only be too happy to offer the use of the Yale field, and to do considerable work toward the management of the games.
Even if the college men felt that they could not devote their time to the management of an Interscholastic meeting—which I greatly doubt, for it would be to their interest to do so—there are three large schools in New Haven, members of the Connecticut I.S.A.A., which would certainly see that business committees were appointed, and competent men set to work for the successful carrying out of the enterprise. But I believe the athletic authorities of Yale would be so glad of the opportunity to help and assist the school athletes that they would even go so far as to offer a cup to be contested for.
But I have run a little ahead of my subject. What we are all most interested in now is the first step; the rest can easily be arranged afterward. It is too late to think of holding a general Interscholastic meeting this spring, but it is none too early to begin to think of holding one next year. Preparations for such an important event require much time. If there is anything that Harper's Round Table can do to further the success of the plan, or if there is any work that I can perform in my small way toward the carrying out of any idea that may be formulated, it shall be done. I hope these few words on the subject will appeal to the athletes of the schools, and I shall be only too glad to hear from them, and, if possible, to give space to their suggestions.
| Event. | Winner—5 points. | ||||
| 100-yard dash | Jones, P.C. | 10-4/5 | sec. | ||
| 120-yard hurdle | Branson, P.C. | 18-3/5 | " | ||
| Half-mile run | Gage, H. | 2 | m. | 17-1/2 | " |
| Mile bicycle | Whetstone, De L. | 3 | " | 7 | " |
| 440-yard run | Jones, P.C. | 58-2/5 | " | ||
| 220-yard hurdle | Branson, P.C. | 29-4/5 | " | ||
| 220-yard dash | Jones, P.C. | 24-3/5 | " | ||
| Mile run | Thackara, G. | 5 | " | 23 | " |
| Half-mile walk | Lippincott, De L. | 4 | " | 5 | " |
| Running high jump | Rorer, P.C. | 5 | ft. | 2-1/2 | in. |
| Running broad jump | Branson.P.C. | 19 | " | 7 | " |
| Putting shot | Watts, C. | 33 | " | 4-1/2 | " |
| Standing broad jump | Flavell, G. | 9 | " | 7 | " |
| Pole-vault | Hanson, P.C. | 9 | " | 2-1/2 | " |