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Algorithms for Intelligent Systems
Series Editors: Jagdish Chand Bansal · Kusum Deep · Atulya K. Nagar

Dipti Singh
Amit K. Awasthi
Ivan Zelinka
Kusum Deep Editors

Proceedings
of International
Conference
on Scientific and
Natural Computing
Proceedings of SNC 2021
Algorithms for Intelligent Systems

Series Editors
Jagdish Chand Bansal, Department of Mathematics, South Asian University,
New Delhi, Delhi, India
Kusum Deep, Department of Mathematics, Indian Institute of Technology Roorkee,
Roorkee, Uttarakhand, India
Atulya K. Nagar, School of Mathematics, Computer Science and Engineering,
Liverpool Hope University, Liverpool, UK
This book series publishes research on the analysis and development of algorithms for
intelligent systems with their applications to various real world problems. It covers
research related to autonomous agents, multi-agent systems, behavioral modeling,
reinforcement learning, game theory, mechanism design, machine learning, meta-
heuristic search, optimization, planning and scheduling, artificial neural networks,
evolutionary computation, swarm intelligence and other algorithms for intelligent
systems.
The book series includes recent advancements, modification and applications of
the artificial neural networks, evolutionary computation, swarm intelligence, artifi-
cial immune systems, fuzzy system, autonomous and multi agent systems, machine
learning and other intelligent systems related areas. The material will be benefi-
cial for the graduate students, post-graduate students as well as the researchers who
want a broader view of advances in algorithms for intelligent systems. The contents
will also be useful to the researchers from other fields who have no knowledge of
the power of intelligent systems, e.g. the researchers in the field of bioinformatics,
biochemists, mechanical and chemical engineers, economists, musicians and medical
practitioners.
The series publishes monographs, edited volumes, advanced textbooks and
selected proceedings.

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/16171

Dipti Singh · Amit K. Awasthi · Ivan Zelinka ·
Kusum Deep
Editors

Proceedings of International
Conference on Scientific
and Natural Computing
Proceedings of SNC 2021
Editors
Dipti Singh Amit K. Awasthi
Department of Applied Mathematics Head, Department of Applied Mathematics
Gautam Buddha University Gautam Buddha University
Greater Noida, India Greater Noida, India

Ivan Zelinka Kusum Deep

Faculty of Electrical Engineering Department of Mathematics
and Computer Science Indian Institute of Technology Roorkee
Technical University of Ostrava Roorkee, India
Ostrava, Czech Republic

ISSN 2524-7565 ISSN 2524-7573 (electronic)

Algorithms for Intelligent Systems
ISBN 978-981-16-1527-6 ISBN 978-981-16-1528-3 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-1528-3

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore
Pte Ltd. 2021
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse
of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and
transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar
or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or
the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any
errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd.
The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721,
Singapore
Preface

This book comprises the outcomes of the International Conference on Scientific and
Natural Computing, SNC 2021, which provides a platform for researchers, academi-
cians, engineers, and practitioners to present and discuss their innovative, inter-
esting ideas in order to stimulate and expand the horizon of their research. The book
presents the latest developments and challenges in the area of soft computing like
Genetic Algorithm, Self-Organizing Migrating Algorithm, Particle Swarm Optimiza-
tion, Biogeography-based Evolutionary Algorithms, Artificial Neural Network, Grey
Wolf Optimization, Chaotic Atom Search Optimization, etc. and its applications in
the various interdisciplinary areas including weather forecasting, image registration,
order reduction, power point tracking, disaster management, etc.

Greater Noida, India Dipti Singh

Greater Noida, India Amit K. Awasthi
Ostrava, Czech Republic Ivan Zelinka
Roorkee, India Kusum Deep

v
Contents

1 Salp Swarm Algorithm for Multimodal Image Registration . . . . . . . 1

Sanjeev Saxena and Mausumi Pohit
2 Multi-objective Chaotic Atom Search Optimization
for Epistasis Detection in Genome-Wide Association Studies . . . . . . 11
S. Priya and R. Manavalan
3 A New Algorithm for Color-Image Encryption Using
3D-Lorenz Chaotic Map and Random Modulus
Decomposition in Transform Domain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
Anand B. Joshi, Dhanesh Kumar, Sonali Singh, and Keerti Srivastava
4 Optimal Capacity and Location of DGs in Radial Distribution
Network Using Novel Harris Hawks Optimization Algorithm . . . . . . 37
Moumita Ghosh, B. Tudu, and K. K. Mandal
5 Model Order Reduction Using Grey Wolf Optimization
and Pade Approximation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Pranay Bhadauria and Nidhi Singh
6 Modeling the Effect of Malicious Objects in Sensor Networks
and Its Control by Anti-Malicious Software . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
Shyam Sundar, Ram Naresh, Amit K. Awasthi, and Atul Chaturvedi
7 Application of Artificial Neural Network in Maximum Power
Point Tracking for Different Radiation and Temperature . . . . . . . . . 73
Dilip Yadav and Nidhi Singh
8 Real Coded Genetic Algorithm for Selecting Optimal
Machining Conditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
Pinkey Chauhan
9 Biogeography-Based Optimization Algorithm for Solving
Emergency Vehicle Routing Problem in Sudden Disaster . . . . . . . . . . 101
Vanita Garg, Anjali Singh, and Divesh Garg

vii
viii Contents

10 Shoring-Based Formwork Optimization Using SOMGA

for Multi-Storey Buildings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
Shilpa Pal, Dipti Singh, and Piyush Vidyarthi
11 Numerical Simulation of Heavy Rainfall Using Weather
Research and Forecast (WRF) System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
Sushil Kumar, Bhanumati Panda, and P. V. S. Raju
12 Parameter Estimation of VIC-RAPID Hydrological Model
Using Self-adaptive Differential Evolution Algorithm . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
Saswata Nandi and Manne Janga Reddy
13 Numerical Simulation of Landfall Position and Intensity
of Very Severe Cyclonic Storm ‘Vardah’ Over Bay of Bengal
Using ARW Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Pushpendra Johari, Sushil Kumar, A. Routray, and Indu Jain
14 Fuzzy-AHP-Based Indexing Model for Performance
Assessment of Highways and Expressways . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Rohit Sharma, Prateek Roshan, and Shobha Ram
15 Quality Factors Prioritization of Ready-Mix Concrete
and Site-Mix Concrete: A Case Study in Indian Context . . . . . . . . . . 179
Amartya Sinha, Nishant Singh, Girish Kumar, and Shilpa Pal
16 Study on Optimization of Unreliable Server Queueing
Systems: A PSO Based Survey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
Radhika Agarwal, Divya Agarwal, and Shweta Upadhyaya
17 Brain Tumor Detection Through MRI Using Image
Thresholding and GUI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
Aditi Verma, M. A. Ansari, Rajat Mehrotra, Pragati Tripathi,
and Shadan Alam
18 A Study on Retrial G-Queues Under Different Scenarios:
A Review . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
Geetika Malik, Shweta Upadhyaya, and Richa Sharma
19 Assessment of the Basic Education System of Myanmar
Through the Data Envelopment Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
Ankita Panwar, Marlar Tin, and Millie Pant
20 Discrete Cosine Transform with Matrix Technique
for a Fractional-order Riesz Differentiator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233
Hari Pratap and Amit Ujlayan
21 Analysis and Design of Memristor Emulator and Its
Application in FM Demodulator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
Zeba Mustaqueem and Abdul Quaiyum Ansari
Contents ix

22 Optimization of Culture Conditions for EPS Production

in Lactobacillus rhamnosus MTCC 5462 Through Taguchi
Design Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
Archana Bhati, Anil Kumar Baghel, and Barkha Singhal
23 Assessment of Biochemical Methane Potential in Anaerobic
Biodegradation of Industrial Food Waste . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
Athar Hussain, Khayati Gaur, and Richa Madan
24 Analysing Distance Measures in Topsis: A Python-Based Tool . . . . . 275
Swasti Arya, Mihika Chitranshi, and Yograj Singh
25 Removal of Chromium from Synthetic Wastewater Using
Synthesized Low-Cost Adsorbents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
Athar Hussain, Deepesh Tiwari, and Zafar Heider
26 Some New Results on the Deformable Fractional Calculus
Using D’Alambert Approach and Mittag-Leffler Function . . . . . . . . 311
Priyanka Ahuja, Amit Ujlayan, Fahed Zulfeqarr, and Mohit Arya

Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319

About the Editors

Dr. Dipti Singh is currently working as an Assistant Professor at Department of

Applied Mathematics, Gautam Buddha University, Greater Noida. She received her
M.Sc(2002) and Ph.d(2007) degrees from Indian Institute of Technology, Roorkee.
She has more than 30 papers in reffered journals of high impact factor/International
conferences. She has contributed chapters in many books and also has one Edited
book “Problem Solving and Uncertainty Modeling through Optimization and Soft
Computing Applications”, DOI:10.4018/978-1-4666-9885-7, to her credit. She has
supervised 2 Ph.D thesis, 7 M.sc and 9 M.tech Dissertations. She is life member of
Operations Research Society of India, Soft Computing Research Society of India
and also Member of International Research Group Unconventional Algorithms and
Computing, Czech (NAVY), University of Ostrava. She is the advisory board member
of series of International Conference on Soft Computing for Problems Solving
(SocProS). Her research interests include Optimization Techniques, Nature Inspired
Algorithms, Computational Intelligence, and their application to real life engineering
problems.

Dr. Amit K. Awasthi is working as an Assistant Professor at Gautam Buddha

University. He achieved Gold Medal in M. Sc. in Mathematics (1999) from M.
J. P. Rohilkhand University, Bareilly. He received his Ph.D. in 2007 from Dr. B.R.
Ambedkar University, Agra, in Cryptology. His main areas of research interests
include Cryptography, Security Protocols, and Coding Theory. He has published
more than 30 papers in international journal/conference/Cryptography Archives. He
co-edited a volume of LNICST from Springer. He got the certificate for the most
cited international research paper from (ESI). He was also appraised by By Else-
vier Publishing (New York) for Significant contribution to the scientific community.
Where he has served as associate editor in computer and electrical engineering.
Currently, he is also serving for the Elsevier journal - computer standard and Inter-
face. He is a member of Indian Mathematical Society, Group for Cryptographic
Research, Cryptography Research Society of India, and Computer Society of India.

xi
xii About the Editors

Ivan Zelinka is currently working at the Technical University of Ostrava (VSB-

TU), Faculty of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science. He graduated conse-
quently at Technical University in Brno (1995 – MSc.), UTB in Zlin (2001 – PhD)
and again at Technical University in Brno (2004 – assoc. prof.) and VSB-TU (2010 -
professor). Before academic career, he was an employed like TELECOM technician,
computer specialist (HW+SW) and Commercial Bank (computer and LAN super-
visor). During his career at UTB, he proposed and opened more than 10 different
lectures series. He also has been invited for lectures at numerous universities in
different EU countries as well as keynote and/or tutorial speaker. The field of his
expertise if mainly on AI, unconventional algorithms and cybersecurity. He is and
was responsible supervisor of numerous grant of fundamental research of Czech grant
agency GAČR, co-supervisor of grant FRVŠ - Laboratory of parallel computing. He
was also working on numerous grants and two EU project like a member of the
team (FP5 - RESTORM) and supervisor (FP7 - PROMOEVO) of the Czech team
and supervisor of international (security of mobile devices, Czech - Vietnam) and
national applied research (founded by TACR agency). Currently, he is a professor
at the Department of Computer Science and in total, he has been the supervisor
of more than 50 MSc. and 25 Bc. diploma thesis. Ivan Zelinka is also supervisor
of doctoral students including students from the abroad and a guarantor of magister
study programme (Cybersecurity) and doctoral programme (Computer sciences). He
was awarded by Siemens Award for his PhD thesis, as well as by journal Software
news for his book about artificial intelligence. Ivan Zelinka is a member of British
Computer Society, Editor in chief of Springer book series: Emergence, Complexity
and Computation, Editorial board of Saint Petersburg State University Studies in
Mathematics, a few international program committees of various conferences and
international journals. He is the author of journal articles as well as of books in Czech
and English language and one of three founders of TC IEEE on big data. He is also
head of research group NAVY.

Dr. Kusum Deep is a full Professor, with the Department of Mathematics, Indian
Institute of Technology Roorkee, India and Visiting Professor, Liverpool Hope
University, UK and University of Technology Sydney, Australia. With B.Sc Hons &
M.Sc Hons. School from Centre for Advanced Studies, Panjab University, Chandi-
garh, she is an M.Phil Gold Medalist. She earned her PhD from UOR (now IIT
Roorkee) in 1988. She has been a national scholarship holder and a Post Doctoral
from Loughborough University, UK assisted by International Bursary funded by
Commission of European Communities, Brussels. She has won numerous awards like
Khosla Research Award, UGC Career Award, Starred Performer of IITR Faculty, best
paper awards by Railway Bulletin of Indian Railways, special facilitation in memory
of late Prof. M. C. Puri, AIAP Excellence Award. She has authored two books,
supervised 20 PhDs, and published 125 research papers. She is a Senior Member
of ORSI, CSI, IMS and ISIM. She is the Executive Editor of International Journal
of Swarm Intelligence, Inderscience. She is Associate Editor of Swarm and Evolu-
tionary Algorithms, Elsevier and is on the editorial board of many journals. She is
the Founder President of Soft Computing Research Society, India. She is the General
About the Editors xiii

Chair of series of International Conference on Soft Computing for Problems Solving

(SocProS). Her research interests are Evolutionary Algorithms, Swarm Intelligence
and nature inspired optimization techniques and their applications.
Chapter 1
Salp Swarm Algorithm for Multimodal
Image Registration

Sanjeev Saxena and Mausumi Pohit

1 Introduction

Registration of different modality images can provide very useful information about
a scene. For example, infrared (IR) image possesses distinct reflective properties
and hence can be used for crop analysis from satellite images as healthy vegeta-
tion reflects more energy in IR region than that in visible region and hence appears
brighter whereas, water body appears darker in infrared image [1]. In medical field,
the magnetic resonance (MR) images and computer tomography (CT) images provide
different information for the same body part, which is very helpful for patient diag-
nosis. There are numerous applications of IR and visible image registration like
vehicular traffic movement assessment, texture classification, security surveillance,
remote-sensing application, land covers study, crop/vegetation study, urban area
planning, etc.
Image registration techniques are fundamentally based on an optimization
process, which searches the n-dimensional space of geometric transformations. The
solution is an n-element vector having the parameter values of the registration trans-
formation. The search is guided by a similarity metric, a function that measures
the degree of resemblance between the input images after the alignment [2, 3]. The
presence of noise, discretization of images, illumination difference makes it diffi-
cult to apply the traditional numerical method approach to optimization. However,

S. Saxena (B)
Department of Electronics and Communication Engineering, Amity University, Noida, Uttar
Pradesh, India
e-mail: [email protected]
M. Pohit
School of Vocational Studies & Applied Sciences, Gautam Buddha University, Greater Noida,
India

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 1
D. Singh et al. (eds.), Proceedings of International Conference on Scientific
and Natural Computing, Algorithms for Intelligent Systems,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-1528-3_1
2 S. Saxena and M. Pohit

a number of metaheuristic algorithms have been reported in the literature to solve

complex real-world problems of image processing [4].
Swarm-based algorithms are a class of metaheuristic algorithms, which have
become very popular due to their simplicity and ease of implementation. These algo-
rithms basically mimic the social behavior of the species present in nature. Many
new algorithms have been reported in the last few years. Since a single algorithm
cannot be the best algorithm for all practical applications [5], the improvement in the
existing algorithms and the proposal of new algorithms are a new emerging area of
research. Salp Swarm Algorithm (SSA) is a recently proposed algorithm [6] for the
optimization of single and multi-objective functions. SSA is based on the swarming
behavior of salps in the ocean. Since its inception, SSA has been successfully applied
in various real-world optimization problems [7–10] but according to the information
available, it has not been used yet in multimodal image registration problems.
The paper is organized into the following sections. Section 2 explains the
concept of mutual information function as applicable to image registration. Section 3
described the proposed SSA algorithm for image registration. In Sect. 4, the results
of the experiment are presented. Section 5 discusses the conclusion of our study.

2 Mutual Information-Based Image Registration

Image registration is a process in which an image captured from a sensor is aligned

with a reference image in the database [1]. The alignment between two images
is specified as a spatial transformation, mapping the content of one image to the
corresponding area of the other. If T and R are the images used for image registration,
then the registration problem can be described by the following equation:
    
T (X, Y ) = R t X , Y (1)

where (X, Y ) and (X´, Y´ ) are the corresponding coordinates in T and R and t is
the geometric transformation function. Transformation function can be different for
different types of misalignment. In the present study, only two types of transforma-
tions are considered, viz., translation and rotation. The transformation function for
the mutually translated and rotated images is given as,
⎡ ⎤
cosθ sinθ t X
t(X, Y, θ ) = ⎣ −sinθ cosθ tY ⎦ (2)
0 0 1

where tX and tY are the translational misalignment parameters in X and Y directions,

respectively, and θ is the rotational misalignment parameter. Precise information of
the parameters is required for correct image registration.
1 Salp Swarm Algorithm for Multimodal Image Registration 3

Intensity-based image registration is usually based on two separate measures,

based on either Correlation or Mutual Information (MI) [11]. For multimodal image
registration, where correlation techniques cannot be used, MI provides superior
results [12]. MI is a measure of similarity between two images. If two images to
be registered have no common part between them, value of MI is zero; whereas, if a
substantial part is common between the two images, value of MI is high. Mutual infor-
mation between two images T and R depends on the individual and joint probabilities
of the two images to be registered and is defined as,

M(T, R) = H (T ) + H (R) − H (T, R) (3)

where H(T) and H(R) are the entropy of the individual images and is given by,

H (T ) = −i pT (i) log pT (i) (4a)

and,

H (R) = − j p R ( j) log p R ( j) (4b)

pT (i) and p R ( j) being the measure of the occurrence of the ith and jth grey levels
respectively. For G discrete grey values, H(T) and H(R) are the sum of individual
grey level probabilities. H (T, R) is defined as the joint entropy for images T and R
and can be obtained by the following equation:

H (T, R) = −i, j pT,R (i, j) log pT,R (i, j) (5)

P is defined as the joint probability distribution of the two images. In the context
of image registration problem, M (T, R) can be defined as a measure of information
common to both images. The problem of multimodal image registration can be
summarized as the maximization of the mutual information between two images. The
Salp Swarm algorithm (SSA) uses MI as the optimization function, which should be
maximized between two images. The next section explains this process.

3 Salp Swarm Algorithm for Image Registration

Salp Swarm Algorithm (SSA) is a nature-inspired algorithm based on swarm intelli-

gence originally proposed by Mirjalili et al. [6]. SSA is based on the unique swarming
behavior of Salps where they form a chain-like structure. The chain of salps has one
leader and the rest are followers whose movement is guided by the leader. The goal
of the swarm is to search for food, which exists somewhere in the search space. The
leader is the one who is nearest to the food and leads the rest of the swarm towards
it. The ultimate goal of the swarm is to converge on the food.
Other documents randomly have
different content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Harper's Young People, July
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 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other
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Title: Harper's Young People, July 4, 1882

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, JULY 4,
1882 ***
 THROUGH THE TUNNEL.
INDEPENDENCE-DAY.
BURNING THE "TORO."
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.
PERIL AND PRIVATION.
THE LITTLE PATIENT.
A FOURTH-OF-JULY WARNING.
ONE NIGHT.
THE OLD, OLD STORY.
OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New

vol. iii.—no. 140. price four cents.
York.
Tuesday; July 4, $1.50 per Year, in
Copyright, 1882, by Harper & Brothers.
1882. Advance.
"ORDER ARMS!"
 THROUGH THE TUNNEL.
BY EDWARD I. STEVENSON.
"Halloa, the house! Jedediah! Jedediah Petry! Mrs. Jedediah! Cadmus! Are you all deaf
this morning? Come, come!"
Dr. Flaxman stood up in his old chaise before the door of the last white cottage in
Wicketiquok village, and shouted until he was purple in the face. The nine-o'clock June
sun shone bright upon the closed green blinds. A broom and a watering-pot rested in the
open doorway; but the broom and the pot seemed to be the only members of the Petry
family ready to receive an early morning call. No marvel that Dr. Flaxman grew impatient,
said several things to himself, and was just making ready to get out of the chaise and tie
his new horse, when all at once a boy came running around the house corner, calling:
"Good-morning, Doctor. Did you call?"
"Did I call?" echoed the Doctor, cuttingly. "Well, Cadmus Petry, I should rather say that I
did. Are you the only member of the family up at this time o' day? Cadmus, I want your
father."
"Can't have him, Doctor," replied the lad. "Pop's gone up to Lafayette by the early train."
"There, now!" exclaimed the Doctor, appearing much disturbed by this answer. "So I've
missed him, after all my trouble! Well, where's your mother?"
"Gone with father. I'm keeping house for 'em. They won't come back before evening.
They were going to take dinner at Grandfather Fish's in the town, and then go to Lawyer
Gable's, on some important business, they said; something about buying some more
land, I believe."
"That's just it, Cadmus," said Dr. Flaxman, looking still more vexed and perplexed. He ran
his sharp eye all over the boy from head to foot, and then continued: "Look a-here,
Cadmus. You're a pretty smart youngster, and I think you'll have to help me—eh?"
"Yes, sir," replied Cadmus, quietly.
"Your father is going to buy a part of a farm to-day up in Lafayette, and he's getting it a
good deal on my advice. He asked me to go and look at it and make some inquiries, and
I did. Now I've got a letter here, my boy, that just alters my whole judgment of the
matter. I wouldn't have your father make that bargain without first seeing this letter for
anything you can think of. It came this morning. Now couldn't you go right up to
Lafayette, catch your father and mother before they go to the lawyer's office, and give
him this letter—without fail? I can't go myself, because Judge Kenipe's so low since
yesterday; but I'll send a telegram ahead of you to tell your father to wait until you
come."
Cadmus's face was puckered as he stood thinking. "You see, there's no train from here
now, Doctor, until afternoon, and that'll be too late. The express don't stop, going
through our village. Hello! I'll walk down to the Junction, and get on her there. She has
to stop there always. That'll do it. Give me the letter, Doctor."
Dr. Flaxman looked greatly relieved. He laughed, and held it out of the chaise, with a
regular battery of directions. "Now recollect, I depend on you, Cadmus," he added,
switching his black horse, and moving away. "I'll send the dispatch. You've more than an
hour to get down to the Junction. Got money enough for your fare? All right. Good-by."
And the chaise rattled off.
Cadmus darted into the house, and locked that up securely. A moment later he was
striding manfully down the road, bound for Rippler's Junction, a couple of miles below the
village. Presently the daisy-bordered road crept alongside the level railway. A freight train,
steaming and rumbling along, seemed to offer Cadmus a noisy hint, so he soon
transferred himself to the track (a thing he had been soundly lectured for doing before
this morning), and tramped along on the uneven ties, whistling as he rounded curves,
like a locomotive itself—only locomotives don't, as a general thing, whistle "Captain
Jinks." Soon Rippler's Mountain rose up in the distance before him. The railroad passed
directly through this by a tunnel. At the other end of it lay Rippler's Junction, whither
Cadmus was bound to catch that 10.15 express. A wagon-road ran smoothly over the top
of the mountain, and came down into the town, and that was at his service. But Cadmus,
hastening along toward the great black hole in the hill-side, and fancying himself to be in
a much greater hurry than occasion at all required, began to ask himself why, if the
railroad went through the mountain instead of over it, he, Cadmus Petry, shouldn't save
time by doing the same thing.
Had not those dozen lectures as to walking on the railroad been given him? Hadn't
Cadmus heard that even an old and experienced "hand" dislikes nothing worse than
walking through a tunnel—had rather even do a regular job of repairing in it? Did not
everybody know that the Rippler's Junction Tunnel was uncommonly narrow, close, and
continually shot by freight, coal, or passenger trains? To meet such in quarters so dark
and dangerous requires, indeed, a very cool head and steady nerves. There comes to
every man or boy a time in his life when he does a foolish or a rash thing. This was such
a moment for Cadmus Petry. The great hole loomed up before him in the hill's rocky side.
He looked up. Over his head, nailed to the side of the brick facing, was a black sign-
board, on which, in white letters, Cadmus read the following encouraging words:

—DANGER!—

ALL PERSONS ARE POSITIVELY FORBIDDEN

TO WALK THROUGH THIS TUNNEL.

ALL PERSONS DISOBEYING THIS CAUTION

WILL RISK LIFE AND LIMB.

 —DANGER!—

The lad hesitated, wavered, then gave his head a rather defiant toss, and exclaiming, half
aloud, "Sorry; but I'm in a hurry, and I can save ten minutes by you," walked forward
into the smoky gloom before him, leaving sunlight and safety behind his back.
Cadmus was at first rather surprised to find his novel journey less odd and disagreeable
than he had anticipated. There was very little smoke in the tunnel at so short a distance
from one of its mouths. Daylight straggled in behind the boy's back, lighting up the road-
bed with a gray distinctness. It brought out deep black shadows along the jagged walls
of rock, and turned the rails before him to polished silver ribbons. Cadmus walked inward
as fast as he could; occasionally he ran. By-and-by he noticed a curious sight upon
turning his head. Far behind him lay the entrance by which he had come in, now
dwindled to a third of its size, and with the air and landscape outside of it become a
bright orange—an effect sometimes noticeable if one is well within the interior of a tunnel
and looks outward. But the light amounted to worse than none by this time. Cadmus
could not see his footing after a few yards further. He began stumbling badly in another
minute. Hark! What was that low dull rattle that echoed to the boy's ears? The sound
increased to a roll, then to a booming roar. A train was on its way toward him from
daylight. From which end was it approaching? Cadmus dared not stop to think; he leaped
aside, put out his hand, and felt the rough rocky wall.
He pressed himself closely against this, his heart thumping until he could scarcely stand.
Was there space enough for safety between himself and the train rushing down toward
him? He dared not try to determine now, for his ears were stunned, his breath taken
away, as, ringing, hissing, and thundering in the darkness, what must have been a heavy
freight train roared past the boy. Half choked with smoke, shaking in every limb and
nerve, the unlucky lad tottered from his terribly narrow station, and began running
forward as well as he might. Never before had he imagined how terrible a thing was a
train of cars at full speed. He shook with terror at the idea of meeting another. A quarter
of a mile before him yet!
Another? Before he had thought the word again, his quick ear caught its shriek as it
approached from the opening, which it seemed to Cadmus that he should never reach
alive. He caught again the booming crash of its advent into the mountain's heart.
Cadmus caught his breath, sick with nervousness and fear. This time the space between
the rail and the rock seemed so dreadfully narrow—and it was, in truth, some inches less
than a few yards back. Nevertheless, Cadmus staggered into it, stood as straight against
the side wall as he could, his face toward it, and with his head thrown a little upward. His
enemy sped toward him, and seemed to scorch and deafen and grind the boy with its
whirling wheels as it shot behind his very shoulders. Cadmus's hat was blown off, and no
more heard of, as no locomotive capped with a small brown chip astonished the natives
on its way to Oswego. But a slight accident like the flying away of one's hat can be an
important matter under such conditions. The sudden whizz of wind about him and the
snap of his hat guard gave a start to the terrified boy. He lost his balance, and half
crouched, half fell, not between those unseen wheels rolling so near, but sidelong.
The red flash of the lanterns on the platform of the last car fell on his bent figure as the
train thundered away into the darkness beyond. Cadmus found his feet, doubtful if he
were a hearing, breathing, and generally living boy or not. But the smoke rolled past.
Gleams of light filtered through it. The worst was over, and Cadmus was safe—well
scratched and bruised, and as close to being "frightened to death" as most persons ever
have been.
A few moments later a hatless, grimy, almost unrecognizable boy emerged from the
Junction end of the tunnel, and picked his way toward the dépôt, trembling, but quite
bold enough to decline sharply to answer any questions that the interested switch-
tenders and signal-men fired about his ears. There was a pump handy; so Cadmus
contrived to make a very imperfect toilet before that 10.15 express came along, which
spun him, bare-headed, back over the road he had come, toward Lafayette and his
father.
Mr. and Mrs. Petry were sitting in the old dining-room at Grandfather Fish's, still in a state
of mystification about the telegram they had received from the Doctor.
"What'll Lawyer Gable an' that man think of me?" exclaimed Mr. Petry. "Here 'tis half an
hour after time, and Cadmus not here yet. How was he to come up with any letter, I'd
like to know? He couldn't get aboard a train that didn't stop at Wicketiquok."
At which moment the door opened, and Cadmus strode manfully into the room. "Good-
afternoon, grandpa," he exclaimed, quite composedly, holding out a very dirty white
envelope toward the other members of the group. "Hello, father! here's that letter Dr.
Flaxman telegraphed you about, and—and I walked through the tunnel to get the
express. I suppose I'll have to be whipped."
Although it can not be said that Cadmus, in the course of the desired explanation which
followed, succeeded in convincing Mr. and Mrs. Petry that his walking through the tunnel
had been a very necessary part of his important errand, two things may be truthfully
stated: first, that after reading Dr. Flaxman's letter, Mr. Petry at once decided not to buy
"that farm"; and second, that Cadmus did not "have to be whipped," but went home with
his parents on the afternoon train, quite subdued in spite of a brand-new straw hat. As
they shot through the tunnel, his mother said, in a low voice, "What a mercy you weren't
killed, Cadmus, you thoughtless fellow!"
That was about as true a thing as any one ever said about the affair.
INDEPENDENCE-DAY.
Through the dusty street
And the broiling heat,
To the sound of the stirring drum,
With a martial grace
And measured pace,
See the proud young patriots come!

Why march they so,

With martial show,
These sons of patriot sires?
What glorious thought,
From the dim past caught,
Their brave young hearts inspires?

Sure the souls of boys

Love din and noise,
And they love to march along
To the ringing cheers
That greet their ears
From the loud-applauding throng.

But a grander thought

In their breasts hath wrought
Than the love of vain applause,
For strong and deep
Is the mighty sweep
Of their love for Freedom's cause.

They have heard the tale

Of the hero Hale,
They have read of Washington,
And they know full well
How Warren fell
Ere the fight was scarce begun.

And the long grand scroll

Of the muster-roll
Of Freedom's patriot band,
With hearts aflame
At each noble name,
Their eager eyes have scanned.
 And now, as they hear
Loud cheer on cheer
Roll out like a mighty wave,
They think of the bold
Brave men of old,
And the land they died to save.

March on, brave boys,

With your din and noise,
Through the hot and dusty way,
And strong and sweet
May your hearts e'er beat
For glad Independence-day!
 BURNING THE "TORO."
BY HELEN S. CONANT.
At sunrise on the Fourth of July the national flag is hoisted on all public buildings in the
city of Mexico. Its pretty green, white, and red stripes wave as gayly in the sunshine as
the star-spangled banner waves in the breeze sweeping over our own dear country, and
the eagle in the white central stripe fiercely clutches the snake in its beak and claws as if
it rejoiced in putting to death even a symbol of treachery.
Now the Fourth of July is not a holiday in Mexico, and if you were there you would
wonder why so many flags were flying. Stop the first boy you meet in the street, no
matter if he is a poor little Indian, and he will tell you it is because it is the
Independence-day of the great sister republic, the United States of North America.
How many readers of Young People know the date of the Independence-day of the United
States of Mexico? They have such a day, which is kept with great rejoicings, ringing of
bells, booming of cannons, and no end of popping fire-crackers.
Spanish rule had long been very heavy and oppressive for the inhabitants of Mexico, and
on the Sixteenth of September, 1810, a small company of men, led by a priest named
Hidalgo, issued a proclamation calling upon the Mexicans to rise against their tyrannical
Spanish rulers. The people were not well organized; and although their desire for liberty
was very strong, it took many years of hard fighting to drive the Spaniards out of the
country. It was not until 1821 that Mexico gained her freedom. Hidalgo and other early
leaders of the revolutionary movement had been killed by the Spaniards, and the people
were not as yet wise enough to make good use of their liberty. They had been oppressed
so many years that they did not know how to form a true republic. The first thing they
did was to proclaim a man named Iturbide Emperor of Mexico. The people owed much to
Iturbide, for it was by his skill and good generalship that they gained their freedom; but
they should not have made him an Emperor. He oppressed the people so much that they
soon had to rise again and drive him from the country.
It took the Mexicans many years to learn how to live under a republican government.
They had many revolutions and much trouble, but they loved liberty, and went to work
bravely to learn how to use it wisely. They abolished slavery more than fifty years ago,
and the Constitution under which the people are now living peacefully and happily is very
much like the Constitution of the United States. Every fourth year they elect a President.
The name of the man now in office is Manuel Gonzalez.
The Sixteenth of September, the day on which the poor priest Hidalgo and his little band
of patriots issued the proclamation against Spanish rule, is observed all over Mexico as a
glorious Independence-day.
At sunrise the bells ring merrily, cannons are fired from all the forts, and thousands of
little boys begin a lively sport with torpedoes and fire-crackers. Then during the day come
public meetings with patriotic speeches, and
splendid military parades with joyous martial music.
As evening draws near, the impatience, especially of
the little Indian boys, grows so great for the fire-
works to begin that long before sunset they send up
fire-balloons of bright-colored paper, and when it is
dark the air is full of these flying stars. The boys are
very skillful in making these balloons, and a boy will
often have a great number of them, which he has
made himself, all ready to send up on that glorious
Independence-night.
The fire-works are like those in this country. But
there is one very curious piece, in which the Indians
take special delight. They would not think it was
Independence-night if they could not burn a "toro,"
the Spanish word for bull. The bull is made on a
frame covered with thick leather, and pin-wheels
and stars are fastened all over it. A light frame-work
is built on the bull's back as a support for spiral fire-
works and Roman candles. A young Indian takes
this bull on his head, the projecting leather sides
protecting him from any danger from falling sparks. MEXICAN FIRE-WORKS—THE
A pin-wheel is ignited, which soon extends its fire "TORO."
over the bull's whole body. The young Indian
scampers up and down the street, preceded by boys who make all the noise they can on
little drums. The crowd of spectators runs after him, shouting with delight. The bull burns
furiously, he shakes a fiery tail, his eyes are two glaring balls, and he darts green and red
and yellow sparks from his nostrils. He is a very fierce creature, and the crowd of Indians
laugh and scream as he rushes at them. His back is a tower of fire, sending forth small
aerial bombs. At last his rage is over, the pin-wheels which covered his sides revolve
slower and slower, and with a final sputter disappear. His eyes grow dim, and he is a very
forlorn bull. The young Indian who has had the honor of carrying him in his glory and
strength emerges from the blackened frame, and the crowd goes home to bed declaring
that there never was such a fierce and magnificent bull.
On Fourth-of-July morning the readers of Young People must remember that the flags are
flying in their honor in the city of Mexico, for in all honor done to our country every
American boy and girl has a share.
And on the Sixteenth of September do not forget that it is Independence-day in Mexico,
and that all the boys and girls in that country are having a "splendid time," and that at
night the young Indians will be sure to burn a "toro."
 MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.[1]
BY JAMES OTIS,
Author of "Toby Tyler," "Tim and Tip," etc.

Chapter XIV.

RAISING THE TENT.

The sails were not in a remarkable state of preservation, or Captain Whetmore would not
have taken them from his vessel; but Reddy explained that the holes could be closed up
by pasting paper over them, or by each boy borrowing a sheet from his mother and
pinning it up underneath.
One of the sails was considerably larger than the other; but Reddy had also thought of
this, and proposed to make them look the same size by "tucking one in" at the end. Bob
returned before the sails had been thoroughly inspected, and brought with him the
coveted flag, thus showing he had been successful in his mission.
"Now let's put it right up, an' then we can build our ring, an' do our practicin' there
instead of goin' up to the pasture," suggested Ben.
Since there was no reason why this should not be done, Bob and Ben started for the
woods to cut some young trees with which to make a ridge-pole and posts, while the
others carried the canvas out-of-doors, and made calculations as to where and how it
should be put up.
When they commenced work, they had no idea but that it would be completed before
supper-time; but when the village clock struck the hour of five, they had not finished
making the necessary poles and pegs.
"We can't come anywhere near getting it done to-night," said Toby, surprised at the
lateness of the hour, and wondering why Aunt Olive had not called him as she had
promised. "Let's put the sails back in the barn, an' to-morrow mornin' we can begin early,
an' have it all done by noon."
There was no hope that they could complete the work that night. Therefore Toby's advice
was followed; and when the partners separated, each promised to be ready for work
early the next morning.
Toby went into the house, feeling rather uneasy because he had not been called; but
when Aunt Olive told him that Abner had aroused from his slumber but twice, and then
only for a moment, he had no idea of being worried about his friend, although he did
think it a little singular he should sleep so long.
That evening Dr. Abbot called again, although he had been there once before that day;
and when Toby saw how troubled Uncle Daniel and Aunt Olive looked after he had gone,
he asked, "You don't think Abner is goin' to be sick, do you?"
Uncle Daniel made no reply, and Aunt Olive did not speak for some moments; then she
said, "I am afraid he staid out too long this morning; but the doctor hopes he will be
better to-morrow."
If Toby had not been so busily engaged planning for Abner to see the work next day, he
would have noticed that the sick boy was not left alone for more than a few moments at
a time, and that both Uncle Daniel and Aunt Olive seemed to have agreed not to say
anything discouraging to him regarding his friend's illness.
When he went to bed that night he fancied Uncle Daniel's voice trembled as he said,
"May the good God guard and spare you to me, Toby boy!" but he gave no particular
thought to the matter, and the sandman threw dust in his eyes very soon after his head
was on the pillow.
In the morning his first question was regarding Abner, and then he was told that his
friend was not nearly so well as he had been; Aunt Olive even said that Toby had better
not go into the sick-room, for fear of disturbing the invalid.
"Go on with your play by yourself, Toby boy, and that will be a great deal better than
trying to have Abner join you until he is much better," said Uncle Daniel, kindly.
"But ain't he goin' to have a ride this mornin'?"
"No; he is not well enough to get up. You go on building your tent, and you will be so
near the house that you can be called at any moment, if Abner asks for you."
Toby was considerably disturbed by the fact that he was not allowed to see his friend,
and by the way Uncle Daniel spoke; but he went out to the barn, where his partners
were already waiting for him, feeling all the more sad now because of his elation the day
before.
He had no heart for the work, and after telling the boys that Abner was sick again,
proposed to postpone operations until he should get better; but they insisted that as they
were so near the house, it would be as well to go on with the work as to remain idle, and
Toby could offer no argument to the contrary.
Although he did quite as much toward the putting up of the tent as the others did, it was
plain to be seen that he had lost his interest in anything of the kind, and at least once
every half-hour he ran into the house to learn how the sick boy was getting on.
All of Aunt Olive's replies were the same: Abner slept a good portion of the time, and
during the few moments he was awake said nothing, except in answer to questions. He
did not complain of any pain, nor did he appear to take any notice of what was going on
around him.
"I think it's because he got all tired out yesterday, an' that he'll be himself again to-
morrow," said Aunt Olive, after Toby had come in for at least the sixth time, and she saw
how worried he was.
This hopeful remark restored Toby to something very near his usual good spirits; and
when he went back to his work after that, his partners were pleased to see him take
more interest in what was going on.
The tent was put up firmly enough to resist any moderate amount of wind, but it did not
look quite so neat as it would have done had it not been necessary to perform the
operation of "tucking in" one end, which made that side hang in folds that were by no
means an improvement to the general appearance.
The small door of the barn, over which the tent was placed, served instead of a curtain to
their dressing-room; and at one side of it, on an upturned barrel, arrangements were
made for a band stand.
Mr. Mansfield's flag covered the one end completely, and all the boys thought it gave a
better appearance to the whole than if they had made it wholly of canvas.
The ring, which Reddy marked out almost before the tent was up, occupied nearly the
whole of the interior; but since they did not intend to have any seats for their audience, it
was thought there would be plenty of room for all who would come to see them. The
main point was to have the ring, and to have it as nearly like that of a regular circus as
possible, while the audience could be trusted to take care of itself.
The animals to be exhibited were to be placed in small cages at each corner. Reddy had
at first insisted that each cage should be on a cart to make it look well; but he gave up
that idea when Bob pointed out to him that six mice or two squirrels would make rather a
small show in a wagon, and that they would be obliged to enlarge their tent if they
carried out that plan, even provided they could get the necessary number of carts, which
was very doubtful.
In the matter of getting sheets from their mothers they had not been as successful as
they had anticipated. No one of the ladies who had been spoken to on the subject was
willing to have her bed-linen decorating the interior of a circus tent, even though the
show was to be only a little one for three cents.
Reddy was quite sure he could mend one or two of the largest holes if he had a darning-
needle and some twine; but after he got both from Aunt Olive, and stuck the needle
twice in his own hand, once in Joe Robinson's, and then broke it, he concluded that it
would be just as well to paste brown paper over the holes.
Of course, the fact that a tent had been put up by the side of Uncle Daniel's barn was
soon known to every boy in the village, and the rush of visitors that afternoon was so
great that Joe was obliged to begin his duties as door-keeper in advance, in order to
keep back the crowd.
The number of questions asked by each boy who arrived kept Joe so busy answering
them that, after every one in town knew exactly what was going on, Reddy hit upon the
happy plan of getting a large piece of paper, and painting on it an announcement of their
exhibition.
It was while he was absent in search of the necessary materials with which to carry out
this work that the finishing touches were put on the interior; and the partners were
counting the number of hand-springs Ben could turn without stopping, when a great
 shout arose from the visitors outside, and the
circus owners heard a pattering and scratching
on the canvas above their heads.
"Mr. Stubbs's brother has got loose, an' he's
tearin' round on the tent!" shouted Joe, as he
poked his head in through a hole in the flag,
and at the same time struggled to keep back a
small but bold boy with his foot.
Toby, followed by the other proprietors, rushed
out at this alarming bit of news, and sure
enough there was the monkey dancing around
on the top of the tent like a crazy person, while
the rope with which he had been tied dangled
from his neck.
It seemed to Toby that no other monkey could
possibly behave half so badly as did Mr.
Stubbs's brother on that occasion. He danced
back and forth from one end of the tent to the
other, as if he had been a tight-rope performer
giving a free exhibition; then he would sit down
and try to find out just how large a hole he
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER
could tear in the tender canvas, until it seemed
MISBEHAVES HIMSELF.
as if the tent would certainly be a wreck before
they could get him down.

[to be continued.]
 PERIL AND PRIVATION.
BY JAMES PAYN.

WAGER ISLAND.

Part II.
With their privations, insubordination increased. Some separated themselves from the
rest, and settled a league away; some built a boat, and going up the lagoons about the
island, were never heard of more. Worse than all, some in authority misbehaved
themselves, especially a midshipman named Cozens, who had gained some influence
over the men.
Cozens had a dispute with the surgeon; then he quarrelled with the purser, and was
unquestionably of a mutinous disposition. Still it is certain that Captain Cheap exceeded
his powers when he drew out a pistol and shot Cozens down. What was worse, he
refused permission for the wounded man to be carried into the tent, "but allowed him to
languish for days on the ground, and with no other covering than a bit of canvas thrown
over some bushes," until he died.
Unhappily Captain Cheap distinguished himself in nothing but severity. He never shared
the sufferings of his men when he could help it; and though our narrator, Midshipman
Byron, stuck to him to the last, it is plain he thought him a worthless creature.
This loyal young fellow was of good family, and became grandfather of the great Lord
Byron, into whose imagination never entered stranger things than actually befell his
ancestor.
The midshipman had built a little hut, just big enough to contain himself and a poor
Indian dog he found straying in the woods. To this animal in his misery he became much
attached. But a party of seamen came and took the dog by force, and killed and ate it.
Indeed, three weeks afterward, when matters became much worse, Byron himself,
recollecting the spot where the poor animal had been killed, "was glad to make a meal of
the paws and skin which had been thrown aside."
The straits to which they were by that time reduced sharpened their ingenuity to the
utmost. The boatswain's mate, having procured a water puncheon, lashed a log on each
side of it, and actually put to sea in it, like the wise men of Gotham in their bowl, and
with the assistance of this frail bark he provided himself with wild fowl while the others
were starving. Eventually he suffered shipwreck, but was so little discouraged by it that
out of an ox's hide and a few hoops he fashioned a canoe "in which he made several
voyages."
In the mean time the hope of all these poor people lay in the building of a vessel out of
the materials of the long-boat, with other timber added. This task was at last
accomplished. Captain Cheap's plan was to seize a ship from the enemy, and to join the
English squadron; but the majority of the hundred men, to which number starvation had
reduced the castaways, were in favor of seeking a way home through the Straits of
Magellan.
About this there arose a quarrel, and eventually the men threw off the Captain's authority
altogether, left him on the island, and sailed away. A lieutenant of marines, Byron, and a
few others remained with him. These were presently joined by some deserters who had
settled on another portion of the island, so that their number now amounted to about
twenty.
Their only chance of escape was in the barge and yawl, which in the absence of the
carpenter were patched up so as to be fit for a fine-weather voyage. Even now their
scanty stock of useful articles was diminished by theft, and two men were flogged by the
Captain's orders, and one placed on a barren islet void of shelter. Two or three days later,
on "going to the island with some little refreshment, such as their miserable
circumstances would admit, and intending to bring him off, they found him stiff and
dead."
All this time the weather was very tempestuous, but the occurrence of one fine day
enabled them to hook up three casks of beef from the wreck, "the bottom of which only
remained." These being equally divided, recruited for the time their lost health and
strength.
On the 15th of December they embarked, twelve in the barge and eight in the yawl, and
steered for a cape apparently about fifty miles away. But ere they reached it a heavy gale
came on. The men were obliged to sit close together, to windward, in order to receive the
seas on their backs, and prevent them from swamping the boats, and they were forced
to throw everything overboard, including even the beef, to prevent themselves from
sinking. As it was, the yawl was lost with half its crew.
The survivors, with the occupants of the barge, reached a small and swampy island,
where bad weather confined them for days. There they ran along the coast, generally
with nothing to eat but sea-tangle. At length they ate their very shoes, "which were of
raw seal-skin."
It now became evident that the barge could not accommodate the whole party with
safety, and as it had become a matter of indifference whether they should take their
wretched chance in it or be left on this inhospitable coast, they separated. "Four marines
were left ashore, to whom arms, ammunition, and some necessaries were given. At
parting they stood on the beach and gave three cheers" (what cheers they must have
been!) "for their comrades. A short time afterward they were seen helping one another
over a hideous tract of rocks. In all probability they met with a miserable end."
Finding it impossible to double the cape, which had been the object of their journey, the
rest returned to Mount Misery and Wager Island. Here they found some Indians, the chief
of whom, on promise of the barge being given him, promised to guide them to the
Spanish settlements.
Upon this voyage their sufferings, notwithstanding what they had already undergone,
may be said to have commenced. Mr. Byron at first steered the barge, but one of the
men dropping dead from fatigue and exhaustion, he had to take his oar. Just afterward,
John Bosman, "the stoutest among them," fell from his seat under the thwarts with a cry
for food. Captain Cheap had a large piece of boiled seal in his possession, but would not
give up one mouthful. Byron having five dried shell-fish in his pocket, put one from time
to time into the mouth of the poor creature, who expired as he swallowed the last of
them.
Having landed in search of provisions, six of the sailors took an opportunity of deserting
in the barge, leaving Captain Cheap, Lieutenant Hamilton, Mr. Byron, Mr. Campbell, and
the surgeon—in short, all their surviving officers behind. The Cacique, as the Indian chief
was called, had now no motive to assist them save the hope of possessing Byron's
fowling-piece, and of receiving an immense reward should they ever be in a position to
pay it. It was with difficulty that they could persuade him to continue his assistance. His
wife, however, arrived in a canoe, and in this frail craft, which held but three persons, the
chief took the young midshipman and Captain Cheap on a visit to his tribe. After two
days' hard labor, in which we may be sure the Captain did not share, they landed at night
near an Indian village. The Cacique gave the Captain shelter, but the poor midshipman
was left to shift for himself. He ventured to creep into a wigwam where there was a fire,
to dry his rags. In it were two women, "one young and handsome, the other old and
hideous, who had compassion on him, gave him a large fish, and spread over him a piece
of blanket made of the down of birds." The men of the village, fortunately for him, were
absent, and for some time he was well cared for by his two kind hostesses.
Byron's life here was a romance in itself. The occupation of the women being to provide
fish, he accompanied them in their canoe with the rest. "When in about eight or ten
fathoms of water, they lay on their oars, and the younger of the women, taking a basket
between her teeth, dived to the bottom, where she remained a surprising time. After
filling the basket with sea-eggs, she rose to the surface, delivered them to her
companion, and taking a short time to recover her breath, dived again and again."
When the husband of these two women returned, he expressed his dissatisfaction at the
kindness they had shown the stranger by taking them in his arms and brutally dashing
them against the ground. But notwithstanding this, these good creatures "still continued
to relieve the young midshipman's necessities in secret, and at the hazard of their lives."
After a while the whole party returned to Mount Misery, where they found those they had
left on the verge of starvation, and in the middle of March they embarked in several
canoes for the Spanish settlements. The surgeon now succumbed to his labors at the
oar; Campbell and Byron rowed like galley-slaves, but Hamilton, strange to say, did not
know how to row, and Captain Cheap "was out of the question." He and the Indians had
seal to eat, but the rest only a bitter root to chew; and as to clothing, Byron's one shirt
"had rotted off bit by bit."
The party landed, and the canoes were taken to pieces. Every one, man and woman,
with the usual exception of Cheap, had to take his share of them; Byron had, besides, to
carry for the Captain some putrid seal in canvas. "The way being through thick woods
and quagmires, and stumps of trees in the water which
obstructed their progress," the poor midshipman was
left behind exhausted.
After two hours' rest, and feeling that if he did not
overtake his companions he was lost indeed, he
started after them without his burden. But on coming
up with them he was so bitterly reproached by the
Captain for the loss of his seal and canvas that he
actually returned five miles for them. After two days of
absence from his companions he again rejoined them,
in the last extremity of fatigue, but "no signs of
pleasure were evinced on their part."
Eventually, after days of terrible suffering, they
reached the Spanish settlements at Castro, where,
strange to say, they were received with humanity. But
as to eating, "it would seem as if they never felt
satisfied, and for months afterward would fill their
pockets at meals in order that they might get up two
or three times in the night to cram themselves." Even
Captain Cheap was wont to declare that "he was quite
ashamed of himself," from which we may certainly
infer that their conduct was gluttonous indeed. BYRON CARRYING THE
CAPTAIN'S SEAL.
The Englishmen, though well fed, received no clothing,
and were carried through the country by the Governor
of Castro in a sort of triumphal progress. At one place a young woman, the niece of the
parish priest, and bearing the appropriate name of Chloe, fell in love with young Byron.
He did not wish for this union, but he confesses that what almost decided him to become
her husband was the exhibition by her uncle of a piece of linen, which he was promised
should be made up at once into shirts for him if he would consent. "He had, however, the
resolution to withstand the temptation."
From Castro the English officers were taken to Santiago, the capital of Chili, where a
Spanish officer generously cashed their drafts on the English consul at Lisbon. They
received the sum of six hundred dollars, with which sum they purchased suitable
equipments. They remained at Castro two years on parole, and eventually reached
France, and thence escaped to England, after a series of hardships and adventures such
as have rarely been equalled, and which were "protracted above five years."
The adventures of the eighty men who had left Wager Island in the long-boat were little
less terrible. Many perished of starvation, and those who had money or valuables offered
unheard-of prices for a little food. "On Sunday, the 15th of November," for example,
"flour was valued at twelve shillings a pound, but before night it rose to a guinea." There
was a boy on board, aged twelve years, son of a Lieutenant Capell, who had died on the
island. His father had given twenty guineas, a watch, and a silver cross to one of the
crew to take care of for the poor boy, who wanted to sell the cross for flour. His guardian
told him it would buy clothes for him in the Brazils, whither they were bound. "Sir," cried
the poor boy, "I shall never live to see the Brazils; I am starving. Therefore, for God's
sake, give me my silver cross." But his prayers were vain. "Those who have not
experienced such hardships," observes the narrator of this scene, "will wonder how
people can be so inhuman.... But Hunger is void of compassion." Of the eighty men only
thirty survived to reach England by way of Valparaiso.
 THE LITTLE PATIENT.
Five of us farmer's children, and one from a city street
Who never in all his lifetime knew that the roses were
sweet;
And he's come to us pale and frightened, but he'll soon
grow plump and strong,
So, Rover, old fellow, you hear me: just gallop and gallop
along,

And carry this poor little patient—for that's what he is,

they say—
Down where the willows are gazing into the brook all day.
And go like the wind, dear Rover, you shall rest when the
work is done
And we'll give you part of our dinner, and more than half
of the fun.

Mother was ever so happy when father came up the road

Bringing this boy for a visit; he wasn't much of a load.
And we'll feed him on cream and biscuits, and give him
the best of care,
A bed that is soft as clover, and the very freshest of air.

But, Rover, all that would be nothing—I see that you're

looking wise,
And shaking your shaggy coat, dear, and laughing out of
your eyes—
Nothing, unless we loved him, and gave him plenty of
play
So hurrah for our little patient, and, Rover, scamper away.
 A FOURTH-OF-JULY WARNING.
BY AN OLD BOY.
I remember the accident well enough, though it happened nearly forty years ago.
There is no doubt about it, every genuine school-boy takes a keen delight in the Fourth
of July. There is an inherent love of squibs and crackers, wheels and blue-lights, among
lads, while a good flare-up of a bonfire is looked upon as almost indispensable.
When I was a boy I had a strong liking for cannon. I might have become an Armstrong, a
Rodman, or a Dahlgren, if nothing had interfered to prevent the development of my
tastes in that direction. But— Ah, that "but"! It is as troublesome as the "if" which spoils
so many good things.
Would the boys like to hear the story? I began with a formidable piece of ordnance—an
eighty-one-grain gun. It was an old key that I had picked up somewhere, and I tell you it
made a very good miniature cannon. I was even more proud of it than of my first pair of
boots, for I had manufactured it all myself. I felt that I had converted a useless old piece
of iron into a weapon of modern warfare. At the end of the tube I filed a priming hole,
fastened it to a wooden gun-carriage, and a jolly good bang I got out of it. Larger keys
followed, and then brass cannon mounted on wheels, until somehow or other I got
possessed—I can't remember how—of a monster cannon.
No common cast-brass toy this, but a homespun, wrought-iron gun: an iron bar, drilled,
as near as I remember, with a three-quarter-inch drill; an unscientific-looking instrument,
quite ignorant of lathe and emery-paper, but one that would and did go off.
Various small trial charges had been set off, until, on Fourth of July it was determined by
a select committee on heavy ordnance, assembled in my father's garden, that in the
evening an experiment should be made that would determine once for all its full powers.
We had had a good deal of fun of one kind and another all day, but for me nothing was
one-half as interesting as that cannon. It seemed as if all the other boys in the
neighborhood thought so too, for when the critical hour arrived there was something over
two dozen of us in the garden. We formed a circle around my cannon, and the business
of loading began. A fire-poker was secured for a ramrod, and a real good charge was
rammed home. In the excitement of the moment the poker was left in the cannon!
A heap of soil at the end of the garden was chosen as the "earthwork," on which our big
gun was fixed, pointing upward, though unnoticed by us, point-blank at the parlor
windows. A small heap of shavings was put around the weapon, and one was appointed
to light it. "To cover!" at once was the order, and each one rushed to a safe place. I
tremble at this moment when I remember that, a second before the explosion, the
inevitable small boy rushed from one cover to another right in front of the cannon's
mouth.
What a bang! and what a crash! Oh, horror! Four panes of glass gone at once, the
window-frame broken, and— We did not act the coward and fly. No, boys, never turn
coward if you get into a scrape—and few boys of spirit but do sometimes get into one.
Stand your ground, boys, and bear or pay whatever is fairly earned. Some of us stood
our ground until father appeared. He had been a boy himself once, and though he looked
very serious he did not scold us. At the first brush it was set down to atmospheric
concussion, but on further investigation it was found that the brick-work was chipped and
the wood-work broken; and, worse still, inside the parlor was found the fatal poker
doubled up, having just escaped a splendid crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of
the room. How crest-fallen I felt and looked! Father said that to remind me of the
necessity of care in handling such a dangerous toy, I should pay for two of the panes.
You can imagine I was glad not to be more severely punished.
That cannon was never again fired by me. The hair-breadth escape of that small boy
haunts me even now. I have never fired a gun in my life; but for experimental purposes I
have handled the strongest explosives, including the notorious dynamite; yet never in my
life has such a thrill passed through me as did when I realized the almost miraculous
escape of my playmate, when the doubled-up projectile was picked up on our parlor floor.
Boys, let an old one beg of you to be careful in handling explosives. Don't touch guns or
pistols until you have a little more age upon you, lest some playmate or school-fellow
meet with an untimely end. Don't reckon upon the lucky escape I had of being
unintentionally a murderer.
 ONE NIGHT.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS.
"I'd like to have been Joan of Arc."
"And I, Queen Elizabeth."
"Who would you have chosen, Winnie?"
"The idea of asking a girl who is afraid in the dark!" said a sneering voice.
"It is rather absurd," replied brown-eyed Winnie, though she flushed a little
uncomfortably, "but," she continued, "I have told you, Lulu, that I am trying to conquer
that."
"What makes you afraid, anyhow?" queried Joan of Arc.
"I really don't know. I suppose somebody must have scared me when I was too little to
remember."
"Pshaw! you're afraid of burglars," said Queen Elizabeth.
"Yes, she goes poking under her bed every night with a cane," said the sneering voice.
"I don't," said Winnie, indignantly.
"Well, who would you like to have been, Winnie?"
"Nobody."
"Oh, what a fib! Now don't get mad, Winnie, sweetie;" and Joan of Arc put her arm
around her.
"I am not mad, but I just will not tell you who I admire most: tortures sha'n't get it out of
me."
"Try her!" "Try her!" was shouted in chorus; and one seized her inkstand, another her pile
of books, and a third was about to eat up her luncheon, when a tap of the bell
announced that recess was over.
A week after this incident, one warm day in May, the teacher stopped the class as it was
filing out, and said, "Who can go see why Jennie Jessup does not come to school?"
No one answered. It had been so tiresome a day, and all were eager to get home, Winnie
especially, as she had been promised a little outing—a pleasant sail to Staten Island, an
evening with friends, and a glimpse of blue waters and green fields. At the same time she
thought to herself, "I pass the house she lives in. Perhaps I might just take time to stop."
The teacher seemed to divine her thoughts. "I wish you would go, Winnie. You're not
afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Well, she may be sick, and sometimes girls don't like to go to strange houses."
"I am not afraid. I'll go," said Winnie, just a little proudly, as the girl passed her who had
twitted her with being afraid in the dark.
Winnie picked up her books and trudged off. "How nice it will be to get out of the hot
city!" she thought; "and what lovely lilacs I shall bring home! I wonder if their roses are
out yet, and the syringas! And what nice teas Mrs. Graham always has!—so much better
than a dinner such a day as this! And perhaps Rob will take us out sailing. Anyway, the
trip up and down the bay will be delightful."
So she went on anticipating, until she came to Jennie Jessup's house. It was one of a
block which had seen better days, but which now was degenerating from contact with
the crowding business of the city.
She knocked at a door. No one replied. The occupants had gone to their daily duties, and
had not returned. She mounted another pair of stairs. A partly open door had a small
card tacked on it, upon which was the name "Jessup." She knocked. No answer. Again
she tried. This time a far-away "Who is it?" was whispered.
"Can I come in?" asked Winnie, pushing the door gently before her.
"If you're not afraid," was the reply. It fairly stung Winnie.
"What should I be afraid of?"
"Why, of me," said Joan of Arc, in muffled accents. "Hush! don't wake mother; she's just
tired out, and here am I sick in bed. Perhaps you had better not come in."
"I will, though," said Winnie; "that is, if it is right. I don't want to catch anything, and
take it home to the children."
"I don't think it is catching. My head ached awfully, and the doctor was thinking it might
turn out to be something contagious; but that fear is over. Oh, Winnie, is it not dreadful
to be sick?"
Poor Joan of Arc was lying in a small, dark room, and in a large chair beside her was a
pale-faced woman asleep. On an easel was an unfinished crayon head; here and there
were sketches, scraps of pictures, as if done to test a color or a method. The afternoon
sun was pouring a dusty flood of light on the faded carpet.
Winnie turned as if to go—were not Bob and Mary Graham waiting for her? she could
fairly hear the splash of the water against the side of the boat. Joan of Arc turned a pale,
longing face toward her.
"Oh, don't go, Winnie!"
"Do you want me?"
"Oh, so much! Mother is really ill herself. She has nursed me night and day, and tried to
finish that crayon too—it is an order; but she is worn out—poor mother!"
Winnie moved about uneasily, thinking of lilacs and roses and syringas and the boat, but
after a while she tore a slip from a copy-book and wrote a little note to her grandmother,
telling the good old lady where she was. Then she turned to poor pale little Joan, bathed
her, smoothed her pillows, and gave her the medicine which was to be taken.
Slowly the hours went by; no going to Staten Island this time. The clock ticked away, the
jangling bells and whistles quieted down, doors opened and shut, people had their
dinners and teas. The street grew quiet, and little pale-faced Joan slept softly and
restfully, with one hand in Winnie's. Ten, eleven, twelve o'clock struck. Winnie must have
dozed, but now she was wakened by little Joan's arousing.
"Oh, Winnie, I am so thirsty!"
"Yes, dear; here is some water."
"But I would so like to have some milk."
"Where is it, Jennie?"
"Down-stairs we have a closet under the stoop, and there's an ice-box there. A lump of
ice in the milk would be so delicious!"
"So it would. Shall I get it?"
"Yes, only— Oh dear! Winnie, you don't like going down in the dark."
No, indeed, she didn't; but what was to be done?—waken poor Mrs. Jessup, and undo all
the good that had been done? On the other hand rose visions of horror—bats, rats,
meeting midnight prowlers, all sorts of indescribable fears without really any cause, the
echoes of a frightened childhood, when some foolish nurse had used the rod of fear to
control a sensitive nervous little one who could easily have been led by love.
"Where is the key, Jennie, and the pitcher?"
"The key is just here in this little drawer, and you will find a pitcher down there. But don't
go if you are afraid, Winnie. I will try to wait till morning."
"Now or never," thought Winnie, and she plunged out into the darkness. The effort gave
her courage. Down, down, down she went. The candle flared and flickered; she was sure
it would go out, but she had put a match or two in her pocket. She reached the door,
unlocked it, poured the milk, and cracked the ice, when with a chill of horror a hoarse
laugh broke the midnight stillness.
It seemed close beside her, above her, around her. For an instant she stood as if
paralyzed; then she would have sped like the wind, but a voice said, "Can't you let me
in?"
Winnie looked up; there was a little grating over the heavy outer door. A face, young,
handsome, but shadowed with the marks of ill-doing, was watching her curiously. Winnie
shook her head.
"Who are you, anyhow, and what are you doing in my mother's closet?"
Winnie's voice shook. "I am a friend of Jennie's. She is sick. I am taking care of her. Do
you live here?"
"Sometimes. It's a pretty time of night for a fellow to be out, isn't it? Well, if Jen's sick, I'll
stay away. Here, give her this;" and between the narrow grating was slipped a bill.
Winnie picked it up. The face disappeared: ah! what a sorry tale it had told! She forgot
her fears, but her heart ached for the toiling mother and sick little sister when son and
brother was of this sort. Upstairs she went, seeing nothing alarming now in the darkness;
all her visionary fears had fled. But little Joan saw her white face and wide-open eyes.
Drinking the milk eagerly, she sank back on the pillow with a sigh of satisfaction. Winnie
said nothing, and Joan slept like a baby.
When morning came, Mrs. Jessup arose rested, refreshed, and so grateful to Winnie that
she felt repaid for the little sacrifice she had made; and then she told Mrs. Jessup of the
night's occurrence, and gave her the money.
"My poor boy!" was all the mother said, as tears rolled down her face—"my poor boy!"
but it told of sorrow, disappointment, and grief which even Winnie could hardly
understand.
When Joan kissed Winnie good-by that morning, she whispered, "I know who you are
like, and whom you would rather be than all the queens in the world."
"Who, Jennie?"
"Florence Nightingale."
"Yes, you have guessed rightly," answered Winnie, who not for one moment regretted
her postponed jaunt, her sleepless night, nor anything she had done.
Once having conquered, she had now no more trouble with fears in the dark.
And the jaunt came in due time, and little Joan's room was made sweet and bright with
roses and syringas that Florence Nightingale brought from her excursion.
But she never forgot that night.
 THE OLD, OLD STORY.
BY JIMMY BROWN.
We've had a most awful time in our house. There have been ever so many robberies in
town, and everybody has been almost afraid to go to bed.
The robbers broke into old Dr. Smith's house one night. Dr. Smith is one of those doctors
that don't give any medicine except cold water, and he heard the robbers, and came
down-stairs in his nigown, with a big umbrella in his hand, and said, "If you don't leave
this minute, I'll shoot you." And the robbers they said, "Oho! that umbrella isn't loaded;"
and they took him and tied his hands and feet, and put a mustard plaster over his mouth,
so that he couldn't yell, and then they filled the wash-tub with water, and made him sit
down in it, and told him that now he'd know how it was himself, and went away and left
him, and he nearly froze to death before morning.
Father wasn't a bit afraid of the robbers, but he said he'd fix something so that he would
wake up if they got in the house. So he put a coal-scuttle full of coal about half-way up
the stairs, and tied a string across the upper hall just at the head of the stairs. He said
that if a robber tried to come upstairs, he would upset the coal-scuttle, and make a
tremendous noise, and that if he did happen not to upset it, he would certainly fall over
the string at the top of the stairs. He told us that if we heard the coal-scuttle go off in the
night, Sue and mother and I were to open the windows and scream, while he got up and
shot the robber.
The first might, after father had fixed everything nicely for the robbers, he went to bed,
and then mother told him that she had forgotten to lock the back door. So father he said,
"Why can't women sometimes remember something," and he got up and started to go
down-stairs in the dark. He forgot all about the string, and fell over it with an awful
crash, and then began to fall down-stairs. When he got half-way down, he met the coal-
scuttle, and that went down the rest of the way with him, and you never in your life
heard anything like the noise the two of them made. We opened our windows, and cried
murder and fire and thieves, and some men that were going by rushed in and picked
father up, and would have taken him off to jail, he was that dreadfully black, if I hadn't
told them who he was.
But this was not the awful time that I mentioned when I began to write, and if I don't
begin to tell you about it, I sha'n't have any room left on my paper. Mother gave a dinner
party last Thursday. There were ten ladies and twelve gentlemen, and one of them was
that dreadful Mr. Martin with the cork leg, and other improvements, as Mr. Travers calls
them. Mother told me not to let her see me in the dining-room, or she'd let me know;
and I meant to mind, only I forgot, and went into the dining-room, just to look at the
table, a few minutes before dinner.
I was looking at the raw oysters, when Jane—that's the girl that waits on the table—said,
"Run, Master Jimmy; here's your mother coming." Now I hadn't time enough to run, so I
just dived under the table, and thought I'd stay there for a minute or two, until mother
went out of the room again.
It wasn't only mother that came in, but the whole company, and they sat down to dinner
without giving me any chance to get out. I tell you, it was a dreadful situation. I had only
room enough to sit still, and nearly every time I moved I hit somebody's foot. Once I
tried to turn around, and while I was doing it I hit my head against the table so hard that
I thought I had upset something, and was sure that people would know I was there. But
fortunately everybody thought that somebody else had joggled, so I escaped for that
time.
It was awfully tiresome waiting for those people to get through dinner. It seemed as if
they could never eat enough, and when they were not eating, they were all talking at
once. It taught me a lesson against gluttony, and nobody will ever find me sitting for
hours and hours at the dinner table. Finally I made up my mind that I must have some
amusement, and as Mr. Martin's cork leg was close by me, I thought I would have some
fun with that.
There was a big darning-needle in my pocket, that I kept there in case I should want to
use it for anything. I happened to think that Mr. Martin couldn't feel anything that was
done to his cork leg, and that it would be great fun to drive the darning-needle into it,
and leave the end sticking out, so that people who didn't know that his leg was cork
would see it, and think that he was suffering dreadfully, only he didn't know it. So I got
out the needle, and jammed it into his leg with both hands, so that it would go in good
and deep.

"WASN'T THERE A CIRCUS IN THAT

DINING-ROOM!"
Mr. Martin gave a yell that made my hair run cold, and sprang up, and nearly upset the
table, and fell over his chair backward, and wasn't there a circus in that dining-room! I
had made a mistake about the leg, and run the needle into his real one.
I was dragged out from under the table, and— But I needn't say what happened to me
after that. It was "the old, old story," as Sue says when she sings a foolish song about
getting up at five o'clock in the morning—as if she'd ever been awake at that time in her
whole life!

"CHERRIES ARE RIPE."