A BUSY WORKER

BY AGNES NOLAN (AGE 15)

(Gold Badge. Silver Badge won August, 1914)

"How doth the little busy bee

Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!"

EVERY one has heard of "being busy as a bee," and yet we hardly ever think how well the bee-at least the worker-bee deserves to be the synonym for industry.

As the queen bee and the drones do not work at all, the worker-bees have double the work, for they have to take care of these idle ones, and wait on them just as a servant would. I am sure if any man had to hold all positions, from carpenter and mason to nurse-girl and chief cook and bottle-washer, he would not enjoy it, but the worker-bees have to do all these things and

more.

The workers have to gather honey and pollen from flowers all day, from the very first day of their lives. Some of the honey is made into wax, which they use for making the cells of their house. They build these cells by laying little scales of wax, just as a bricklayer lays brick. The pollen they use for food, and they make it into bread, which the little grubs eat.

Besides having to feed and house the rest of the hive and take care of the babies, the workers have to be the army and navy, and protect the others from caterpillars, snails, moths, flies, and such things. If the invader is small, the workers kill it with their stings and carry it out; but if it is too large for this, they make a tomb of wax over it.

As the hive has only one door and no windows, the bees need some system of ventilation. They accomplish this by means of a living "electric" fan. A number of them, by flapping their wings as if flying, but holding on to the floor with their feet so that they do not move, create a current of air which blows out the impure air.

A BUSY WORKER

BY DOROTHY H. LEACH (AGE 14)
(Silver Badge)

REDDY was a young beaver who lived in a river in northern Maine His father's lodge was new, and Reddy had helped build it. He remembered interweaving sticks

and poles, plastering them with mud, and gathering grass for a bed.

But just now Reddy was helping make a dam, and very important he felt, as it was the largest one nearalmost six feet above sea-level. Reddy proudly and untiringly carried soft, clayey earth, sticks, and stones, walking on his webbed hind feet, and carrying his burden pressed against his little body. But he was also watching the other beavers carefully curve the dam up into the stream as they built it across, so that the water would not strike against it with full force.

Reddy's parents were gnawing down a small tree on the bank, and soon they signaled that it was ready to fall. Reddy plunged under the water with the others

FEBRUARY

until after the crash, so as to be sure the noise had attracted no hunter. Then they all resumed their work.

That evening a different signal broke upon the busy beavers a crack as of a revolver shot, which could have been heard a mile off in the still autumn air. It meant that the beavers were in danger; that an enemy was coming. Instantly the air was full of cracks and shots, as the beavers brought their tails down upon the surface of the water and disappeared beneath-Reddy making the most noise of all.

A moment later, as the harvest moon threw her shimmering silver light over the calm water, beautifying and turning the place into fairy-land, not a ripple nor a tremor on the still surface of the pool showed that there had been a living creature there that evening.

THE BUILDERS

BY LUCILE HARRISON QUARRY (AGE 17)
(Honor Member)

BUILD me a castle by the somber sea
Where sheerest rocks rise up to lofty crags:
Build it with slender outline, tall and straight,
Like the dark elm whose penciled tracery stands
Against the lighter darkness of the sky.
Build me a lonely castle by the sea,
Where I may hear the music in the night-
The music of the storm-tossed elements.

Build me a castle by the somber sea;
High in its topmost story place a light
Whose radiance may penetrate the dark
And be a guide unto the rock-bound men
Who struggle for their lives upon the waves.

Build me a lonely castle by the sea,
Where I may hear the music in the night,-
The music of the storm-tossed elements,--
And hear the sea-gulls cry, and beat their wings,
Striving to reach the radiant orb within,
Like greater moths about a candle-flame.

There will I tend the flame and shine the glass,
That, having failed in my sublimer aim,
I still may do some good unto the world.

FEBRUARY

"A HEADING FOR FEBRUARY." BY ALMA KEHOE, AGE 13.

A BUSY WORKER

BY MONTGOMERY KNIGHT (AGE 13)
(Honor Member)

ONCE, when in New York, I had occasion to visit a skyscraper under construction. It consisted of thirty-five stories, and towered, when completed, 406 feet above the street.

Obtaining permission to enter the building, I ascended a ladder to the second floor, there meeting one of the construction gang. He was a big square-shouldered Scotchman, named Andy McClaren, called by the men "Big Andy," who shuffled along the narrow girders entirely at ease. He came over to me, and I was favored with anecdotes about the "boys," until a bell tinkled and he resumed his work.

I spent an hour watching the construction gangs, and then decided to climb higher.

About half-way up the structure were some wooden shanties in which tools were stored. On reaching these I could see the city for miles around. On the floor over me Andy was working on a massive girder.

At one side of the building two stories above was a rickety staging holding in position a girder in readiness for the riveters. For some reason it had been overlooked. Directly below was an office building which was

roofed with glass. I glanced at the sky. Inky black clouds were gathering there. I realized with dismay that the staging might be demolished by the gale, and the girder would drop down through the skylight, inflicting great damage. I shouted to Andy. He heard me and soon saw the danger. Quickly mounting a ladder, he, with another man, ran to the staging. While they were riveting the girder the storm broke, and I retreated to a shanty. Through a window I could see Andy working with feverish haste. He and his mate, having secured the girder, were tearing up the insecure staging. There they were at the brink of an abyss, a howling gale threatening to hurl them to the pavement; but they continued until the last board was ripped up. and then came hurrying down the ladders to the shanty. Later, when I asked Big Andy about it, he muttered that it was "all in the job," but would say no more.

A BUSY WORKER

BY CHLOE S. THOMPSON (AGE 11) MISS MARIA PERKINS sat placidly sewing in her sittingroom. She was a maiden lady, but had always longed to have children in her home.

Presently she took up her newspaper from the table. She read aloud: "All things for the Christmas Ship must be sent to New York soon."

"Oh, dear!" she murmured, "I must hurry." She took her bundle of clothes into the next room and put them away with other dresses and garments.

She went up-stairs, and, entering her bedroom, she stood undecided before a trunk.

"No one really cares for these things," she said. "Still-"

She opened the trunk and took out some dolls. They were made of wax and dressed in the old styles. Miss Maria set the three in a row on her bed and looked them over.

They had been her playmates years ago. Should she

send them?

Sophia was the homeliest, the one she liked the best. Presently she decided to send the others to the newspaper for the Christmas Ship. The dolls were old-fashioned, she thought, and no child she knew wanted them.

The next day she packed the dolls with the clothing and took the box to the post-office. As Miss Maria saw the man take the package, she remembered something. "Oh, Mr. White, wait, please! There is one more thing I want to send. I will run home for it."

Soon she hurried back, out of breath. In her hand was a copy of ST. NICHOLAS.

Miss Maria opened the box and slipped it in. "I'm sure that English children will love it, too," she said.

And so, side by side, the ST. NICHOLAS and the old dolls traveled over to some child in Europe, to make a Christmas happy.

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 184

THE ST. NICHOLAS League awards gold and silver badges each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasionally, cash prizes to Honor Members, when the contribution printed is of unusual merit.

Competition No. 184 will close February 24 (for foreign members March 2). Prize announcements will be made and the selected contributions published in ST. NICHOLAS for June.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. Subject, "The Evening Wind."

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred words. Subject, "After School-What?" or "The Lost Pocket-Book.'

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted; no blue prints or negatives. Subject, "Coming Across."

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. Subject, "What I Love Best," or a Heading for June. Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the answer in full, and must be indorsed.

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set of answers to puzzles in this issue of ST. NICHOLAS. Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on the first page of the "Riddle-box."

Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pursuing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition shall be in four classes, as follows: Prize, Class A, a gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge. Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be of "protected game, as in zoölogical gardens or game reservations. Contributors must state in a few words where and under what circumstances the photograph was taken. No unused contribution can be returned unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manuscript, drawing, or photograph.

RULES

ANY reader of ST. NICHOLAS, whether a subscriber or not, is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be convinced beyond doubt-and must state in writing-that the contribution is not copied, but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the number of words should also be added. These notes must not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself- if manuscript, on the upper margin; if a picture, on the margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper only. A contributor may send but one contribution a month-not one of each kind, but one only; this, however, does not include the "advertising competition" (see advertising pages) or "Answers to Puzzles." Address:

The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.