must take a string from the pair on each side of the single one, and knot them, allowing the single string to pass through the knot (C) before closing it. Be careful to make the tie long enough for the knot to come even with the others in the same row. Then pull down the single string, and tie a simple knot (D) in it, close up to the double knot. Then cut the string off close. Proceed in the same manner with the next row, avoiding as much as possible having the dropped meshes come under one another. As you get down, you will have to increase the number of them in each succeeding row, in order to bring the net together at the bottom. In this mode of finishing, the meshes toward the bottom need be made only a little smaller than those above. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. It was written during the war with Great Britain, which is generally spoken of in history as the war of 1812. The British forces had captured the city of Washington and destroyed its public buildings, and were preparing to attack Baltimore. Francis Scott Key, a patriotic American, and, at the time, a citizen of Washington, wrote to his mother, on the 2d of September, 1814: I am going in the morning to Baltimore, to proceed in a flag-vessel to General Ross. Old Dr. Beanes, of Marlboro, is taken prisoner by the enemy, who threaten to carry him off. Some of his friends have urged me to apply for a flag and go to try to procure his release. I hope to return in about eight or ten days, tho' it is uncertain, as I do not know where to find the fleet. God bless you, my dear mother. * * F. S. KEY." * "The President, James Madison, granted Mr. Key permission to go, and he went with a friend in a cartel-ship,* under a flag of truce. They found the British fleet at the mouth of the Potomac, preparing to attack Baltimore. "The British admiral agreed to release Dr. Beanes, but refused to let him or his friends return that night. They were placed on board of another vessel, where they were carefully guarded, to prevent them from communicating with their countrymen concerning the proposed attack. The vessel was anchored within sight of Fort McHenry, which the British fleet proceeded to bombard. "The three Americans were compelled to endure all night long the anxiety of mind produced by the cannonade; and they had no means of knowing the result of the attack, until the dawn's early light.' They awaited that dawn with the most intense feeling. When it came, they saw with joy that the old flag was still there.' "It was during this bombardment that Key, pacing the deck of the vessel, composed that immortal song, 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' The rude, first draught of it was written on the back of a letter, and he wrote it out at full length on his arrival in Baltimore." Soon after, it was printed, and at once became exceedingly popular. "It was sung everywhere, in public and private, and created intense enthusiasm." Although the famous song is no doubt well known to most of our readers, we here reprint it in full, as it was originally written by Mr. Key: THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. O SAY can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro' the perilous fight O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? From the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, A home and a country should leave us no more? And thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation; Praise the PoWER that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, *Cartel, or cartel-ship: A ship used in making the exchange of prisoners of war, or in carrying propositions to an enemy; it is a ship of truce, and must not be fired upon nor captured. THE FIVE CATS. By B. E. LIT-TLE VIC-TOR was ver-y fond of dogs and cats, and all sorts of pets. But there was one thing he liked bet-ter than any pet, and that was to have his own way. There was a large cat in the house, which Vic-tor called his cat. Her name was Silk-y, and she was ver-y good for catch-ing mice. One day, Vic-tor found four lit-tle kit-tens in her box; and his moth-er told him these were Silk-y's kit-tens. "Then they are mine," said Victor, "for Silk-y is my cat, and her kit-tens are my cats." "But I can not have so man-y cats a-bout the house," said his moth-er, "and I must give these young ones a-way as soon as they are large e-nough." Then Vic-tor be-gan to cry, and he begged his moth-er so hard to let him keep the kit-tens that, at last, she said he might do so if he would feed them and take care of them. Vic-tor said he would al-ways do this, so his moth-er let him keep the kit-tens. At first they ate noth-ing but milk, but when they grew big-ger they ate meat and bread, and man-y oth-er things. Vic-tor oft-en for-got to feed them, and then they would get ver-y hun-gry, and go a-bout the house mew-ing and whin-ing for some-thing to eat. The rest of the fam-i-ly did not like this, and his moth-er told Vic-tor that if he did not feed his cats she would give them a-way. Then Vic-tor prom-ised to do bet-ter, and for a few days he fed his cats. But he soon for-got a-gain to do this, and the cats be-came as hun-gry as be-fore. One warm day, he took his bas-ket with him to the gar-den to gath-er some flow-ers for his moth-er. The cook had giv-en him a big slice of bread and but-ter, and he thought it would be a nice thing to eat this as he walked a-bout the sha-dy gar-den. But his five cats fol-lowed him, and mewed and whined, and begged so hard for some of the bread and but-ter, that he was o-bliged ev-er-y now and then to give them some. Vic-tor did not like his cats to be-have in this way, and he said to his moth-er: "Sup-pose this whole world were full of cats, and on-ly one lit-tle boy to feed them. Would not that be bad?" "Yes," said his moth-er, "it would be ver-y bad." "It is not just like that," said Vic-tor, "but that is the way I feel.” "I think," said his moth-er, "that it would be well for you to let me give a-way some of the young cats." "No," said Victor, "I want them all. They are my cats, and I will try to teach them not to fol-low me a-bout and mew when I am eat-ing a piece of bread and but-ter." "It would be bet-ter," said his moth-er, "for you to try to teach your-self to feed them at the prop-er time.' "I will try to do that," said Vic-tor. And for a few days he fed his cats at the prop-er time, and they did not trou-ble him at all. But he soon for-got a-gain to do this, and the cats whined and mewed worse than they ev-er did be-fore. Then Vic-tor went to his moth"Don't you er and said: 66 And I think," said Vic-tor, "that a lit-tle boy ought to have a large cat, named Silk-y, who knows where to go to get her own food, and who nev-er went mew-ing af-ter him un-til he had five cats, who are so much trou-ble to feed that he could not always re-mem-ber to give them some-thing to eat." "Yes," said his mother, "I think the lit-tle boy had bet-ter keep Silk-y, and let his moth-er give a-way the young cats. And I think, too, that af ter this the lit-tle boy would do bet-ter if he should al-low his moth-er to de-cide for him what is right for him to do." "I like to find out for my-self what is right," said Vic-tor, "but sometimes it is a great deal of trou-ble." "You will al-ways find that to be true," said his moth-er. And then she gave away the four young cats. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT. I'M a plain Jack-in-the-Pulpit, young schoolfolk and play-fellows, as you all know, and given to speaking my mind, and what I wish to say now is this: I I do not want to be turned, this July, into a Jumping-Jack, as I generally am whenever the Glorious Fourth, as you call it, comes around. want peace and quiet, and a chance to reflect upon this great country. But with cannon, pop-guns, and fire-crackers blazing, snapping, and banging about me, how can I do it? they both turned and walked toward the Fort. They reached the tall grass, and, suddenly, Emmy dropped to the ground, pulling down Bessie, too. "What are you looking for?" asked the little sister, in surprise. Then Emmy whispered to Bessie, and both of them stole silently and quickly on hands and knees through the long grass, until they came to the road, when they started up, ran swiftly to the Fort, dashed through the entrance, and had the gate safely closed behind them! Those girls are quite old now, but they remember very well the day they saved themselves, the Fort which their father commanded, and the soldiers and other people in it, besides. Answers came also from Edward F. Biddle"Sarpedon "-B. C.-M. E. G.-S. E. CoyleV. Meredith-Ella M. Parker-and Nelly Loomis. A HEN-GOSSIP AND OTHER HENS. DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Please let me have room to say a word about some bird acquaintances of mine and their queer ways. We have a hen who is a great gossip. She made a nest in the It is n't rational, this noisy way of celebrating yard close to our kitchen, laid eggs in it, and sat on them. But, at things; it's positively dangerous, and besides Hey? Oh, that 's it, is it? It would n't be the Fourth of July without it, eh? Oh, well-if that's the case, Jack begs pardon, and-by the way, if you have n't any punk you'll find any number of cat-tails growing down in my meadow, and you'd better get some and dry them so as to be ready. TWO BRAVE LITTLE GIRLS. A LONG time ago, in the Indian country, two little girls slipped away from the Fort, and went down into a hollow, to pick berries. It was Emmy, a girl of seven years, with Bessie, her sister, not yet six. All at once, the sun flashed on something bright, and Emmy knew that the pretty painted things she had seen crawling among the bushes must be hostile Indians, with gleaming weapons in their hands. She did not cry out, nor in any way let them know that she had seen them. But she looked all about, saw that some of the creeping Indians already were between her and the Fort, and-went on picking berries, as before. Soon, she called aloud to Bessie, with a steady Don't you think it's going to rain?" So voice: every noise in the room, she would leave the nest and run to the kitchen-door, to find out what was the matter. I am sorry to say that all her chicks were born deformed in some way, and we have an idea that this was the lesson sent to her by Dame Nature to teach her to be less careless and inquisitive in future. taking the most tender and tireless care of her own children, and also We have a hen of better character, though,-one who is noted for for helping chicks in distress. One day, she saw a chick drowning in a water-bucket, so she jumped upon the edge of the bucket, reached over, laid hold of the chick with her beak, pulled him out, shook him to get the water off, and then set the scared little creature on the ground. And we had, too, some Shanghai hens, who cherished high notions of hen-dignity. They sat on the nest four deep, one on top of another; and, when the maid pulled them off, they ran to the rooster, and all three told him at once of her harsh treatment of them. The rooster immediately flew at the maid, and stormed at her so fiercely that she ran away. It was very funny to look at, but the maid did not like it at all.-Yours truly, F. M. LEE ST. CUTHBERT'S BEADS. YOUR Jack is informed by his friend E. C. G., that queer, round, flat, little "stones," with holes in the middle similar to the "button-molds" mentioned by Shirley Martin in his May letter to me-are found in northern England. There, the children who play with them call them "St. Cuthbert's Beads"; E. C. G. could not discover why. She learned, however, that these beads really are fossilized joints of ancient "animals," now known as encrinites, which once had the appearance of flowers growing on long, jointed stems from the surfaces of rocks. Sometimes, the body parts also are picked up, and these the children call "lily stones," from their resemblance to lily blossoms. At one time, these curious "animals" covered the bottom of the sea as thickly as a wheat-field is covered with growing stalks; and vast beds of marble have been found which learned men say are made of the skeletons of encrinites. If the Little School-ma'am were here just now, I'd ask her whether these encrinites were not plants as well as animals—a sort of connecting link. I've been told that they were. Who knows about this? WONDERFUL GLASS-MENDING. DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I know of something so strange that I must tell it to you: A naval officer, at a banquet given to some Chinese mandarins on board his ship, showed to them with great pride a handsome drinking-glass of European make, studded with golden stars. The mandarins admired it very much, but said that their countrymen could do work far more extraordinary than that. And they offered to wager that, if the glass were broken, a Chinese workman should repair it, preserving its beauty, and also its use as a drinking-vessel. The wager was taken up, the glass was crushed beneath a boot-heel into hundreds of pieces of all shapes and sizes, and the fragments were given to a Chinaman to be put together. When I saw the repaired glass, it not only showed every one of its golden stars, but it seemed to be delicately veined all over, and sprinkled with shining dew-drops. On looking closely, the veins were found to be the joinings of the pieces, and the drops of light proved to be the sparkling ends of metal rivets. Each rivet was fastened within the thickness of the glass,-not one of them passed entirely through; and the goblet held water when only part-filled; but in the middle of the side was a hole of about the size of a pin's point, where one tiny fragment of glass was wanting. And so the mandarins gained the wager, and proved the astonishing skill of at least one of their patient countrymen.-Yours truly, L. H. HOW SOME SWALLOWS TREATED A LIE-ABED. NOT far from your Jack's pulpit is an old barn where there was a deal of twittering and chattering among the swallows, very early a few mornings ago. And above the din rose shrill cries as if some unlucky swallow were in trouble. I learned afterward that he had been guilty of the unbirdly act of sleeping too long, that morning. The others darted to and fro, each with something in his bill, and, pretty soon, hanging by the tips of his long wings, near one of the nests, I saw the lazy swallow plastered to the barn-wall with some sticky stuff brought by his companions. Fast and faster they worked, while the hanging bird kept crying. Deacon Green came out of his cottage, to see what was wrong; and he soon set the little fellow free. But-would you believe it?-after flying about for a short time, the little "lie-abed" actually went back to his nest to enjoy another nap! This was too much, and his neighbors pounced upon him in a twinkling and began to renew their punishment. I was wondering how the affair would end, when out came the Deacon again, this time with a pitcher in his hand. He set a ladder against the barn, climbed up, released the sleepy-head, and then poured water over him and his nest. This settled the matter. The way in which that swallow immediately flew crooked "W"s and "and-so-forths" in the air was something wonderful. He certainly was not ill; he was too lively for that; but he seemed to have lost the thread of the day, somehow, and to be trying to find it. They work on a plan similar to that of the mon keys. A large ant takes hold of the branch of a tree with his fore legs, and lets his body hang; then another ant climbs down the first one, to whose hind legs he clings, letting his own body hang; and so the little fellows keep on until a long chain of them hangs from the tree. Then they swing until the ant at the loose end catches hold of the tree they wish to reach; and the bridge is complete. As soon as the main body of the army has crossed the bridge, the ant on the first tree lets go of the branch, and climbs up his comrades to the second tree; the other makers of the living suspensionbridge follow his example, and they take their place at the rear of the marching column. A QUEER FOSTER MOTHER. DEAR MR. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I send you a picture of a little chicken who was deserted by his mother, and left to face the rough, selfish world, all by himself. But he was not down-hearted; not he! All day long he would cheerfully scratch for a living, and, when night came, it was his custom to march contentedly into a |