F

AIRY TALES! Who of us have not at some time of our lives been entranced by them? Have we not all heard the fairies whisper, or seen them hurry along on their merry way? Have we not perchance even seen the hobgoblin, and were convinced that the witches were riding through the air? Man comes and man goes, and the world grows older, yet the fairies are part of each generation and will continue as long as there are elders to gather children about them and tell them stories. This custom is not only one of the civilized world, but all nations and all stages of culture have their legends, folk-tales, and stories.

Our original American has an endless fund of these tales, and whether he be a Mojave or Siwash, Yuki or Algonkin, he has stories of mystery, deception, transformation, punishment and reward.

It is not always an easy task to obtain a myth from a redskin, yet once his tongue is loosed, he becomes more and more interested and intent in his own tale. Like the white man drawing about him those of his family who wish to hear, so the Indian, squatting in front of his wickiup, tepee, hut or hogan, has around him members of his family, and be it firelight, star or moonlight, will tell the tales that have been handed down by word of mouth for generations until some white man has come along to put them to paper.

Animals personified are great favorites as heroes. Coyote in particular takes on many forms. It was while seated about the crackling fire that Peshlikai, a fullblood Navajo, told the following story of how even Coyote the wise was once tricked by the Deer.

The Trickster Tricked.

Long ago, when the animals were people, Coyote left her pups in her lair and

started out after adventure. As she went along, she met Deer, with her two little fawns trotting behind her. They They were prettily spotted and at once attracted Coyote. She put herself out to be particularly friendly, and according to the fashion of the animals of that time, shook the Deer's band in warm greeting.

"Where do you come from, and where are you going, cousin?" said Coyote. She was not Deer's cousin at all, but it suited her purpose to feign relationship.

"We are looking for a good place to eat, where the grass is fresh and water clear," answered Deer.

"Cousin," said Coyote, unable to restrain her inquisitiveness and envy any longer, "cousin, what pretty children you have!" And she pawed the fawns over. "How did you give them their beautiful spots, my cousin?"

"I have done nothing to them," Deer replied. "They were always like that. They were born like that."

me.

"Cousin, do not conceal anything from

You must have done something to them. I know you have because you are not spotted. How could your two children have such pretty spots if you had not done it for them? Tell me, please. My children are plain and I want to make them as pretty as yours."

"There is nothing. It is just their nature."

"No, you are hiding it from me. You must tell me. You are not my true friend."

Deer began to be puzzled and alarmed. Coyote was smart, she had always heard from the other animals, and ever ready to trick others. She feared to deny longer, lest Coyote might wreak vengeance on her for the fancied wrong. "I must get away from her," she thought. will tell her anything to escape."

"I

"Well, cousin," she said, "let it be so; I

happy. "Now we will be made beautiful," they said.

Soon the fire blazed up roaring. Every time it snapped and crackled, Coyote's heart was glad. Every time a spark popped she said to herself: "Another pretty spot on them!"

The pups began to yelp.

"Stop that crying!" Coyote ordered. "Think how pretty you are being made."

Still they yelped and howled, until Coyote grew weary of commanding them to cease. The fire burned bigger and bigger, and after a time it grew quiet in the hole. Coyote let the fire go down. When she looked in, she saw the gleaming white

teeth of the pup that was nearest the entrance.

"He is laughing," she thought. "I am sure they are all laughing because they are happy that I have made them spotted all over.

She raked the embers and ashes aside, and one after the other took out the pups. "Well, now you are pretty," she said. "How do you like it?"

But they did not answer. They only grinned at her with teeth from which the lips had shriveled away. They were cooked dead.

Coyote, the trickster, had herself been tricked.

W

HEN FREDERICK Remington, whose color pictures of frontier life are Western history, took to sculpture, it was to be expected that he would produce something picturesque, and it is interesting to observe how he has transferred the vivid life and action of his paintings to the field of sculpture. His remarkable group of cowboys shooting up the town at the St. Louis World's Fair will be remembered as a "tour de force" in sculpture, and his mounted cowboy, lately unveiled with real cowboy ceremonies by real cowboys in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, is another of the same school. It would be difficult to imagine a more picturesque figure or a more appropriate setting than has been given this wonderfully realistic group. It stands on a pedestal of rough stone, cut

into an excellent imitation of a natural cliff, and placed on the edge of an embankment overlooking the East drive. The horse has reached the brink of the precipice before his rider sees it, and jerks sharply up on the very edge. It is the most forceful portrayal of mad action brought suddenly to a dead rest that has been attempted in American sculpture. A strong touch of realism is added by the ideal spot in which the work stands, and which was selected by Mr. Remington.

The stature is sixteen feet high, and eighteen feet long. It is a gift to the city from the Fairmount Park Art Association, and the unveiling exercises, which drew a large throng, included a parade of mounted Indians and cowboys from a Wild West Show, that was in Philadelphia at the time.