he secure them or not, he is alike unsuccessful. But he who "loves high" is king in his own right, though he "live low." His plans may be abortive, but himself is From the grapes of sorrow he shall press the wine of life.- Gala Days.

sure.

. . .

D

ว

ODGE, MARY ELIZABETH MAPES, an American juvenile writer and editor; born at New York, January 26, 1838; died at Tannersville, N. Y., August 21, 1905. Her husband, William Dodge, was a lawyer in New York; upon whose death Mrs. Dodge, having from a child displayed a taste for literary composition, began to write for a living. Her Irvington Stories, published in 1864, brought her into prominence as a writer for the young. This volume was followed by Hans Brinker; or, The Silver Skates (1865), a story of life in Holland, which was awarded a prize of fifteen hundred francs by the French Academy, and was soon translated into several European languages. She was a co-editor with Harriet Beecher Stowe and Donald G. Mitchell, of Hearth and Home; and upon the establishment of St. Nicholas in 1873, she became its editor. She had already published A Few Friends, and How They Amused Themselves (1868); and in 1874 she brought out Rhymes and Jingles, which was followed by Theophilus and Others (1876); Along the Way (1879); Donald and Dorothy (1883); The Land of Pluck (1894); Baby Days (1903); and Rhymes and Jingles (1904). Among the periodicals which have published her contributions are Harper's, the Atlantic, Century, and

Scribner, in the latter of which appeared, in 1870, her Miss Maloney on the Chinese Question.

THE DAY OF THE SKATING RACE.

The 20th of December came at last, bringing with it the perfection of winter weather. All over the level landscape lay the warm sunlight. It tried its power on lake, canal, and river; but the ice flashed defiance and showed no signs of melting. The very weather-cocks stood still to enjoy the sight. This gave the windmills a holiday. Nearly all the past week they had been whirling briskly; now, being rather out of breath, they rocked lazily in the clear, still air. Catch a windmill working when the weather-cocks have nothing to do! There was an end to grinding, crushing, and sawing for that day.

It was a good thing for the millers near Brock. Long before noon they concluded to take in their sails, and go to the race. Everybody would be there-already the north side of the frozen Y was bordered with eager spectators; the news of the great skating-match had travelled far and wide. Men, women, and children in holiday attire were flocking toward the spot. Some wore furs and wintry cloaks or shawls; but many consulting their feelings rather than the almanac, were dressed as for an October day.

The site selected for the race was a faultless plain of ice near Amsterdam, on that great arm of the Zuyder Zee, which Dutchmen of course must call the Eye. The townspeople turned out in large numbers. Strangers in the city deemed it a fine chance to see what was to be seen. Many a peasant from the northward had wisely chosen the 20th as the day for the next city-trading. It seemed that everybody, young and old, who had wheels, skates, or feet at command, had hastened to the scene.

There were the gentry in their coaches, dressed like Parisians, fresh from the Boulevards; Amsterdam children in charity uniforms; girl. from the Roman Catholic Orphan House, in sable gowns and white head-bands; boys from the Burgher Asylum, with their black tights and short-skirted harlequin coats. There were old-fashVOL. VIII-13

ioned gentlemen in cocked hats and velvet knee-breeches; old-fashioned ladies, too, in stiff, quilted skirts and bodies of dazzling brocade. These were accompanied by servants bearing foot-stoves and cloaks. There were the peasant folk arrayed in every possible Dutch costume: Shy young rustics in brazen buckles; simple village maidens concealing their flaxen hair under fillets of gold; women whose long narrow aprons were stiff with embroidery; women with short, corkscrew curls hanging over their foreheads; women with shaved heads and closefitting caps, and women in striped skirts and windmill bonnets. Men in leather, in homespun, in velvet and broadcloth; burghers in model European attire, and burghers in short jackets, wide trousers, and steeple crowned hats. There were beautiful Friesland girls in wooden shoes and coarse petticoats, with solid gold crescents encircling their heads, finished at each temple with a golden rosette, and hung with lace a century old. Some wore necklaces, pendants, and ear-rings of the purest gold. Many were content with gilt or even with brass; but it was not an uncommon thing for a Friesland woman to have all the family treasures in her head-gear. More than one rustic lass displayed the value of two thousand guilders upon her head that day. Scattered through the crowd were peasants from the Island of Marken, with sabots, black stockings, and the widest of breeches; also women from Marken with short, blue petticoats, and black jackets gayly figured in front. They wore red sleeves, white aprons, and a cap like a bishop's mitre over their golden hair. The children often were as quaint and odd-looking as their elders. In short onethird of the crowd seemed to have stepped bodily from a collection of Dutch paintings.

Everywhere could be seen tall women, and stumpy men, lively faced girls, and youths whose expression never changed from sunrise to sunset. There seemed to be at least one specimen from every known town in Holland. There were Utrecht water-bearers, Gouda cheese-makers, Delft pottery-men, Schiedam distillers, Amsterdam diamond-cutters, Rotterdam merchants, dried up herringpackers, and two sleepy-eyed shepherds from Texel.