so closely with his own, that to fire at one would be to fire at both. Completely baffled, the old man threw the weapon on the ground. 66 "Hold! Grandpa!" cried Paul, at his elbow, "I know what I can do!" And the swift feet were off toward the ferry once more. "He is going to try a lasso on the beast- the way he caught the pig that broke out of the pen yesterday," said grandfather to himself; and then he shouted, but too late to be heard, "Don't take the rope that ties the boat, Paul! Don't let the boat loose!" The women, waiting in terror for the report of the musket, saw Paul run past, and thought of him no more until three minutes later, when a cry for help attracted their attention, and Paul was seen to fall headlong over the boat's stern into the deep water. As he rose to the surface he grasped the rudder with one hand, but long before help could arrive, his hold slipped and he disappeared. The old man, running as fast as his stiff limbs could carry him, reached the boat at the same time as the women; but he was less frightened than they. That call had an instant effect. True to his lifesaving instincts, the great dog leaped into the river again, and swimming to the boy, drew him, a heavier burden than the baby, slowly ashore at the spot where the baby had lain. But the baby lay there no longer; for its mother, whom the shriek of distress had also aroused, had snatched it up, as the dog left it, and borne it away in joy and triumph. And as soon as Paul was on land, he stood up and hailed the boat, swinging his arms and shouting: "All right, Grandpa. Carry over the womenfolks, and when I'm ready presently, I'll walk across." He broke into a laugh that startled the echoes, the merriest laugh, those who heard it said, that ever fell on their ears. "The young rascal," cried his grandfather, gayly, while a tear of gratitude stole down his bronzed cheek, " to frighten and fool us so!" 66 "But how fine for him to have fooled the dog!" said the women. The dog did not appear to take the loss of his former prize to heart, as he had now secured a larger and better. In a little while the boat was seen approaching. Paul stood up on his feet, patting the rather astonished dog upon the head, and the pair trotted along shore to meet the ferryman. "We were just going to swim across for sportcan't we, Grandpa ?" cried Paul. But his grandfather thought there had been enough of that kind of sport for one day, and so the boy and his new playmate crossed in the boat. Some hours later a sportsman fully equipped appeared at the ferry, inquiring for a dog answering the description of the one that now, hearing his master's voice, came rushing out of the ferryman's cottage. Both were glad to meet again, and the sportsman, when he had heard the story, expressed his delight that his noble runaway had so well employed his time. NICKNAMES. BY HENRY FREDERIC REDDALL. JUHAMEL THERE are, probably very few young people who have not, at one time or another, helped to christen some companion or acquaintance with a nickname. You single out a peculiarity of person, or a hobby, or a habit, in your friend, and confer on him a nickname that may be absurd, satirical, or honorable and complimentary. Now, this is exactly what your elders, who, as Dryden says, are only "children of a larger growth," have been doing in every period of the world's history. Nicknames applied in derision or affection hundreds of years ago are yet often heard, and are still full of meaning to us. Nicknames are coined every day in the year, and I have no doubt that many of you can at once recall some nicknames that have been conferred on eminent men, and have accompanied them into history. bed him Tintoretto "little dyer," because his father was a dyer, the Italian word for which is tintore. Many similar nicknames might be mentioned. Of sarcastic nicknames there are scores of instances in history and biography. The eminent Doctor Abernethy, of London, wrote a book called "Surgical Observations," and from his invariable habit of advising his patients to read it, he became known as "Doctor My-Book." The brave English Commodore Byron, from the fact that stormy weather nearly always attended him on his voyages, was dubbed by his sailors "Foulweather Jack"; and still another naval officer, Admiral Vernon, because of his custom of wearing a "Grogram" cloak in bad weather, was called "Old Grog." It was this same Admiral Vernon, by the way, who instituted the custom of serving out a mixture of spirits and water to the seamen of the royal navy, a beverage which they called "grog," in memory of its originator. Talleyrand, the French statesman, who was famed alike for his wit and his sarcasm, was at one time Bishop of Autun, and his many enemies jocularly spoke of him as "His Irreverent Reverence." A similar play on words occurs in the case of Lindley Murray, who has been facetiously called the "Ungrammatical Grammarian." Several historical characters, because of the vigorous blows they dealt their foes, or on account of the energy with which they fought some real or fancied abuse, have been called "Hammers." Judas Asmonæus, the Jewish patriot, better known as Judas Maccabæus, was the first to bear this surname. Maccabæus means "the Hammer." The next personage to win this title was Charles, the great Frankish king, grandfather of Charle Let us together glance at a few historic nick- magne, commonly called Charles Martel. Martel names. Quite a number of eminent men are now familiar to us solely by a nickname that, in course of time, has taken the place of their rightful title. Thus, the proper designation of a painter now known as Guercino was Giovanni Francesco Barbieri. But on account of a defect in his sight, he was nicknamed Guercino; that is, "squint-eyed." One of the wickedest of the Roman emperors received from his soldiers a playful nickname on account of the boots he wore. They called him Caligula, "little boots," and by that title he figures in history. And the painter Tintoretto's baptismal name was Robusti; but his fellow-townsmen dub signifies "the Hammer;" and he gained the surname, because of the mighty blows he inflicted with his mace on the heads of the Saracen invaders at the battle of Tours. This victory saved Europe from the Mohammedan power. And in the inscription on the tomb of Edward the First, in Westminster Abbey, he is called "the Hammer of the Scotch," in memory of his many victories over that people. This king in his lifetime was nicknamed "Longshanks." Thomas Cromwell, the English statesman who flourished in the time of Henry the Eighth, was called the "Hammer of Monasteries." By a curious coincidence his illustrious namesake, Oliver Cromwell, was, in the next century, nicknamed number of stars on his epaulettes indicating his rank "the Hammer of Kings." Military commanders have been the recipients of nicknames more generally than any other class. The Duke of Wellington- the "Iron Duke"was invariably alluded to by the troops of the line regiments as Nosey, on account of his enormous nasal feature; and even that stern martinet, Frederic the Great, delighted in the fact that his grim grenadiers called him Old Fritz. The soldiers of Napoleon manifested their regard for their leader by calling him, long after he had outstripped his humble rank, "the Little Corporal"; and Napoleon became the subject of a great many fanciful names and titles, such as: "The Soldier of Democracy"; "Heir of the Republic"; "The Man of Destiny"; "The Nightmare of Europe"; "The Child of the Revolution"; and "The Ogre of Corsica,”—all of which sufficiently explain themselves. The Abbé de Pradt dubbed him " Jupiter Scapin," or "A Scamp Jupiter," in allusion to the strange manner in which nobility and puerility, greed and power, were mingled in his mental make-up. Jupiter was the noblest figure in the old heathen mythology, while Scapin" signifies cunning and knavery. Coming to our own land, we find American life largely given to the coining of nicknames for public men. Every boy knows that General Putnam, the revolutionary hero, and General Jackson, the victor at New Orleans in the war of 1812, were called respectively "Old Put" and "Old Hickory," - the latter having earned his nickname by subsisting unflinchingly on a diet of hickory nuts, to which his troops were at one time reduced during the campaign of 1813. John Randolph, for his haughty manners, was often called "the Lord of Roanoke"; Zachary Taylor was “Old Rough and Ready." Stephen A. Douglas was known as the "Little Giant," and his successful rival, the martyr Lincoln, earned the deserved title of "Honest Abe." And the American soldier is as ready as the European to adopt nicknames for those in authority over him. A recent article by Mr. George F. Williams, published in The Century Magazine, and entitled" Lights and Shadows of Army Life," mentions some nicknames of the Civil War. Almost every general of prominence, it says, had a nickname bestowed upon him by his troops. Some of these names were of a sarcastic nature, but usually they indicated the confidence of the men in their leaders or their admiration for them. General Grant was commonly known over the watch-fires in the Army of the Potomac as "Old United States," from the initials of his name; but sometimes he was called Old Three Stars," that as lieutenant-general. McClellan was endeared to his army as "Little Mac." General Meade, who wore spectacles, was not displeased to learn that the soldiers had named him " Four-eyed George," for he knew it was not intended as a reproach. Burnside, the colonel of the First Rhode Island regiment, rose to the dignity of "Rhody" when he became a general. General Joseph E. Hooker was called "Fighting Joe." Sigel, the German general, was known in the other corps as "Dutchy." General Hancock won the brevet of "Superb," from a remark made by General Meade at Gettysburg, when the Second Corps repulsed a fierce attack upon it. Humphrey, being a distinguished engineer, was invariably styled "Old Mathematics.” General Logan, with his long black hair and dark complexion, was "Black Jack " with his men. Sheridan, the cavalry leader, was "Little Phil," and the troops of General Sherman, whose full name is William Tecumseh Sherman-spoke of him as "Uncle Billy" or as "Old Tecumseh." The sterling nature and steadfast purpose of General George H. Thomas earned for him the significant and familiar name of "Old Reliable." The New York City regiments in the Fifth Corps called General Sykes, "Syksey"; and Rosecrans had his name shortened to Rosey." One General was derisively nicknamed "Old Brains.” General Lew Wallace was "Louisa" to the soldiers under his command; he was a great favorite for his fighting qualities, and the soldiers adopted that inappropriate name for want of a better. General Kearny, who had lost an arm in Mexico, was invariably known in the ranks as "One-armed Phil." General Butler was styled "Cockeye," for obvious reasons. General Kilpatrick was nicknamed "Kill," and General Custer was called "Ringlets," on account of his long, flowing curls; and so the catalogue might be prolonged indefinitely. Finally, the custom of bestowing nicknames has entered even into the religious life of the world. The famous mediæval scholar, Thomas Aquinas, when a student was called by his mates the Dumb Ox, because of his seeming dullness. His teacher, however, is said to have remarked: “If that ox should begin to bellow, the earth would resound with the noise!" The prediction came true; and in after life, when his talents and attainments spread his fame over all Europe, the offensive nickname was exchanged for such honorable epithets as "The Eagle of Divines" and "The Angelic Doctor." Nearly two thousand years ago, there came to the rich, beautiful, and cultured city of Antioch, in Syria, a band of travel-stained strangers, who had fled their houses to escape the clutches of persecuting enemies. Hardly were these hunted ones settled in the city before they began to teach and to preach; and though of different races, they all delivered the same glad message, and revered the same Name. Numbers of the townsmen forsook their faith in the heathen divinities of Greece and Rome, and followed the heavenly precepts of the new-comers. The men of Antioch were famed for their ready wit in bestowing appropriate nicknames; even the Emperor Julian was not secure from their jests, and the philosopher Apollonius was driven from the city by the merciless raillery of the inhabitants. It would have been strange, then, if a name had not been found to fling at those of the new belief. So, thoughtlessly enough, and half in ridicule, half in contempt, the volatile populace called the new community "Christians," after Him in whose name they taught and performed works of mercy. But ere many years passed, the epithet that was at first intended as a term of reproach became a name full of glorious and joyful meaning to the world. And here is one more instance, showing how powerful for good a mere nickname may become. In 1739, a few students in the old English university of Oxford formed themselves into a club, pledged themselves to a closer observance of college discipline than had prevailed before that time, and afterward united in works of practical piety and benevolence. They were the objects of the unsparing ridicule of both students and tutors, and were dubbed in derision "The Holy Club," "Bible Moths," and "Bible Bigots." But what incensed their lawless fellow-students most was their strict attention to the rules laid down by the university authorities; and so, to express their hatred and contempt, they called them " Methodists." This name stuck, and the "club" proved to be the germ of one of the greatest religious denominations of modern times. SEVENTH PAPER. THE WINTER CAMP IN NORTH HUDSON'S BAY. WE have spoken of all the games and sports, the troubles and labors of the little ones of far-away Eskimo land, and even chronicled some of the doings of the small boys who had had interesting adventures of their own, and now, I suppose, you might like to hear how we white men lived in the Arctic regions, when with all these Eskimo people and their children, and, especially, how we passed the winter with them. I have already told you how they built their curious little houses of snow for winter dwellings, and how much they looked like the half of a huge egg-shell resting on the side of a hill covered with snow. Now, in order to make these houses of snow,- igloos, as the makers call them, the snow must be of a certain hardness and texture, so that the blocks - or huge snow-bricks, if you would so call them will hold together when handling them, and after they are in the walls of the white building. It must have been quite cold so as to freeze the snow into a sort of homogeneous mass, and it must have been packed down by the wind a good deal to make it compact and solid. The first snow of the coming winter does not make good strong snow-blocks for the igloos, however deep it may fall, and from the time there is enough of it, the Eskimo often have to wait three or four weeks before it is fit for building. As it gets too cold in their summer sealskin tents before this time comes, the natives generally build preliminary houses of ice, which, singular as it may seem, are much warmer than the tents, but not as comfortable as the houses of snow. When the ice has formed to about six inches in thickness on some lake close by, they cut out their big slabs of ice for the sides of the house. Imagine an ordinary-sized house-door to be a slab of ice about six inches thick; then take a half-dozen to a dozen of these doors, and place them in a circle, joining them edge to edge, but leaning in slightly, and you will have formed your curious house of ice. Over this circular pen of ice- which you can imitate on a small scale with a circular row of upright dominoes on their ends and joined edge to edge- the summer sealskin tent is lashed across poles for a roof, and the ice-house is complete. By and by, this roof, sagging with snow, may be taken off and a dome of snow put on, which gives more height and consequently more comfort. In the picture at top of this page, which represents our first winter camp in North Hudson's Bay, the houses of ice-slabs surmounted by a dome *Copyright, by Frederick Schwatka, 1885. |