woods at a distance, and gather flowers or plants to add to their collection at home. The children were amusing themselves with a variety of games, but the most charming was hide-and-| seek, among the ruins and trees-the niches and large stones were famous places for concealment; and when all had been tried but one over what had been once a doorway, John, whose turn it was to hide with Mary, very thoughtlessly fixed on this niche for her to hide in. It was not very difficult to reach it for an active little fellow like John, but the broken stones up the arched doorway, every here and there, projected like stairs; and when the distance between these stones was too great for Mary, he knelt on one knee, that she might make use of his other knee for a step. In this way they clambered up nearly ten feet; John exulting in the feat, and Mary's fears silenced by his courage. "There, now you are quite safe-you may call whoop as loud as you like," said he; "they will never find us."

Just as he said this, he placed his foot on the highest stone, on which Mary was standing, and which, with his additional weight, began to totter. Mary started. "Oh, John, I am going to fall; it moves." Nonsense, Mary, it is quite safe," said he, looking rather frightened; "only stand still-have you called whoop?" Just then a small stone, which had been supported by that on which Mary stood, was loosened, and fell down with some noise to the ground; the large stone shook again, and John saw that if he moved, both Mary and the stone must fall together. His blood ran cold; he felt quite giddy; but recalling all his vigor, he shouted whoop! whoop! as loud as he could, and the next moment all the little footsteps were running about in

"Emma

different parts of the ruin. -Jane-come here under the archhere we are-Mary will fall-call papa or some one- -I can not hold her much longer," cried John. "Where are you? I can not see you," said some of the children. "Go and call papa or some one to help us," cried John, louder; "do not be afraid, dear Mary," said he in a low voice, turning to her, "I will not let go till you are safe."

The children were so dull as not to understand what it was all about, and they called Emma, and told her to come and help her cousins out of their hiding-place. She came, calling them by name, not at all alarmed, and saying in joke, "How clumsy they must be not to be able to get out of their hiding-place without my help!" When she came near and heard John's cry of distress, she was alarmed, and ran to her aunt, who was sitting with some friends at a distance. "Oh, aunt, come and help Mary and John-they have got into a part of the ruin, and can not get out; John is crying out for help." His mother was soon on the spot, followed by all her friends, but she could render her children no assistance, and she waited in intense anxiety the arrival of some of the gentlemen. Mr. Basil came first, and, with the help of some gentlemen, who followed him, wheeled the cart which had carried the provisions under the arch, and, standing on it, could just reach the children. "When I say 'now,' John," said he, "take away your leg, and let fall the stone backward, or it will hurt you very much; be ready." He grasped Mary without lifting her up-gave the word-down tumbled the heavy stone with a prodigious noise-little Mary rested safely in his arms, and John scrambled down into the cart, covered with dust and cobwebs.

ABOUT this time R. W. R. detailed

his "approximative" method of catching Problem, the idea being something like this: supposing the animal to be in a certain position, unknown, you are to go directly north in pursuit of him, until you discover your mistake; then in a similar manner to the northeast; then east, and so on, until you have been in every direction except the right one. Of course it is then very easy to pounce directly upon him. X. next month poked considerable fun at R. W. R., and Willie H. Coleman at last displayed the "crafty toils" which were to subdue "Probby" forever.

Poor Willie! There was a flaw in his apparatus-it gave way, and he was tossed sky-high, along with X., G. H. B., and several others. Scarcely had he reached the ground when the whole kittenboodle* of Merrys were on him—X., E. P. Shaw, Black-Eyed Mary, J. T. D., R. W. R., G. H. B.— six to one, and a most terrible thumping and poking did he receive. And now the battle became general. Here might be seen R. W. R. punching X. in the head, and the latter giving him as good as he sent; then, were BlackEyes and E. P. Shaw in close pursuit of Problem, who was rushing up and down the field, upsetting and skytossing every one who came in his way; farther on were Ellen and G. B., having a little private fight by themselves; while in the center lay Willie C., sprawling on the ground, a woeful spectacle of "caved-in" humanity. All was wild confusion. None knew friend from foe, and each one fought

* Vide Virgil.

on his own hook, and dealt his blows indiscriminately. On a neighboring eminence stood Uncle Hiram, viewing the conflict with a horror-stricken air, and apparently meditating a decisive blow with his hatchet. Night closed the scene.

As morning dawned, W. H. Coleman was perceived advancing with a flag of truce. In mournful accents he acknowledged his defeat, implored a cessation of hostilities, had a plaster applied to his bleeding wounds by Uncle Hiram, and retired.

Bold R.

The battle recommenced. W. R. defied the whole camp, whacking all who came within reach, and fighting gallantly to maintain his first position. Willie brought forward three new snares for the capture of Problem, made by a friend. This was the signal for a fresh onset, and the "friend" was speedily laid out flat. Black-Eyes and R. W. R. cannonaded each other with a hearty good will, and the fight waxed hotter and hotter. Suddenly there was a pause, a lull in the tumult. A new combatant was seen charging across the field, on whose escutcheon appeared the single word "Lowville." At the same instant R. W. R. bore down from the opposite quarter. Both warriors sped straight for Problem, who was capering about in high glee at his supposed victory. Perceiving the new foe, he ceased his antics, stood for a moment irresolute, then turned to fly: too late. There was a heavy thump, a scream, a despairing kick, a convulsive wiggle, and the Algebraic Problem lay vanquished on the ground!

Such, in brief, is the history of this memorable conflict. Those who desire further particulars, are referred to the MUSEUM for 1855-6.

But though the battle was over, its effects remained. The character of the Chat was entirely changed. Every one essayed to wield the keen blades of wit and repartee, and fearful was the discharge of puns, jokes, and jests from Nippinifidget, Black-Eyes, R. W. R., Laura, Willie, Alice B. Corner, † † †, and a score of others. The "elders" at last became thoroughly frightened at the uproarious state of things in the Merry family, and Aunt Sue, in the character of a general peacemaker, endeavored to settle the disputes of the noisier members, in which she was warmly seconded by Mr. Hatchet. He called a general council of war, and though much opposition was shown, it was concluded to have peace, and the following advertisement was issued:

"Articles of peace having been signed, we have gathered up the fragments, and take leave to notify the spice-merchants that we have on hand a large supply of the most approved spices, suitable for seasoning literary correspondence, enlivening evening parties, garnishing valentines, etc. He would also inform the sporting gentry, political squabblers, campaign-stump speech makers, members of Congress, high-minded duelists, et id omne genus, that we have a large surplus of small-arms and ammunition-arrows, spears, darts, javelins, daggers, stilletoes, bowie-knives, gutta-percha canes, revolvers, Sharp's rifles, squibs, rockets, torpedoes, fusees, saltpeter, sulphur, readymade thunder and lightning, fizzles, mizzles, squizzles, inuendoes, sparks, glances, and similar articles, too numerous to mention, all of which will be disposed of, wholesale and retail, on the most favorable terms."

But it did not last long; 1857 is about as bad as the preceding years, and as yet no signs of improvement appear. Mr. Merry has lately made

another attempt to cool us down, with what success, remains to be seen. I much fear that the Merrys are incorrigible.

The chief event of this year was the marriage of "MERRY'S MUSEUM" and "YOUTH'S CABINET."

I have given no extracts from the Chat of these later times, for they would be but "specimen bricks." I can not, dare not, attempt a detailed description thereof. Words are inadequate, and those who would know its flavor, must taste for themselves. And now, before closing this imperfect sketch, I wish to say one thing: Many people affect to sneer at the Chat, calling it silly, foolish stuff, and wishing Mr. Merry would fill its place with better matter. I protest against this. It has been a rich source of pleasure to us for many years; it has brought together a circle of young people, who, though strangers personally, feel in spirit like old friends; it has encouraged a taste for writing which might otherwise have never been awakened; and it has taught us better to use the pen than years of set composing would have done. Grant that many of the letters are of a trifling character; grant that some things have been said that might better have been omitted; grant that we sometimes strive to be thought smart and witty still I insist that it has done far more good than evil; and in the name of the whole Merry family, I do protest against these accusations concerning our beloved Chat.

And now, comrades, off with your hats, and let the welkin ring with a rousing nine times nine for Merry's Monthly Chat with his Friends. May it live a thousand years!

W. H. C. Amen. H. H.

ERE we are, at the very end of another year-the last Chat of 1858. Have these monthly meetings, on the whole, been agreeable and profitable? Have you all enjoyed them? Have you all been benefited by them-for the true end of all enjoyment should be improvement. Is it best to continue these Chats, as we have done, and to make them a permanent Institution? Willie Coleman, I see, has a word to say on the subject. I will give him a chance to say it, by-andby. Several others are anxious to speak, who seem to have complaints to make about their letters. One says, "I have written several times, and my letters have not been published." That may be so-but, was your letter worthy to be published? Perhaps your first letter never reached the MUSEUM. Then you wrote a second, and then a third, simply scolding about the first. That would not read well in the Chat-and you would be sorry to see it there. So it was put into the basket. Another says, "I sent you some conundrums and riddles, but have never seen them in print." That may be all true, my dear. But did you look back, to see if they had not been printed in some former number? We have a great many things sent us which are not new. We do not expect young folks to know, or remember, everything that has ever appeared in the MUSEUM. But we are obliged to watch carefully, to avoid repetitions; but, with all our care, we do not always succeed. Some old things will creep in, and then up jumps some bright-eyed little Merry, claps his finger on it, and says--" There, sir, that has no

right here." And so it is, with all your little grievances. If you will examine, you will find they are all explained in some such way as this. We do not intend to neglect any one, or to show any partiality. We wish every one to speak in his turn. But, they must have something to say, and then-say it properly.

One word more, which I want you all to remember. All the letters written to us do not reach us. We lose a great many, and some very important ones, every year. Now, if a letter which you send us does not appear in its place in the Chat, would it not be quite as kind and just to suppose it had not reached us, as that we had willfully slighted you? Try it, and see. It will make you more comfortable, and we more happy. Now, Willie, you can speak.

I am in great perplexity regarding the best "line of conduct" for me to pursue, after your peremptory command to the Museumites to quit the "tit-for-tat" style of writing. Are we to discuss moral and philosophical questions, propound intricate problems in the natural sciences, or exhaust our minds in didactical essays? Please publish the programme of allowable subjects, or I must e'en twiddle my thumbs in the fear of again rousing your ire.

In advance of the mail, I would say to Annie Drummond, whose handwrite I saw in Uncle Merry's sanctum, that Belle Fleetwood is a puella incognita to me. I am glad to see that General B. E. M.