Harper's Young People, July 5, 1881 An Illustrated Weekly

CANOES AND CANOEING.

BY NAUTILUS.

On the preceding page are several spirited pictures illustrating scenes during the annual regatta of the New York Canoe Club, which took place last week in the Upper Bay, off the club-house on Staten Island. The central picture is of the sailing race, with several of the leading canoes passing the light on Robbin's Reef. The tiny craft, none of which is over fifteen feet in length, carry enormous sails for their size, and only the greatest skill and care on the part of their skippers prevent them from upsetting. A few years ago, only leg-of-mutton sails were used on canoes; then came various forms of sprit-sails, lateens, and lug-sails; until now, for racing purposes and light winds, the sail known as the "balance-lug," and shown in the illustration, is the most popular. Although it is a large sail, it is very easily handled, and can be quickly reefed or lowered. It has two battens, or thin strips of wood, sewed into pockets running horizontally across it, and these cause it to set very flat, so that the canoes can sail close into the wind. With these large sails, the racing canoe must, of course, carry heavy ballast, which is usually in the form of several bags of shot of from twenty to fifty pounds weight each, and often the ballast carried weighs as much as the canoe itself. Sometimes the skipper sits up on the windward gunwale of his canoe; but as a general thing he is content to sit as low down in the bottom of his little craft as possible.

The small illustrations show the other races of the regatta, the paddling, and the upset race. The latter is a race in which, at a signal, all competing canoes must be capsized so that they are completely upside down. The owners, who are thus left struggling in deep water, must right their boats, get into them, if possible, and paddle to the float, the one who reaches it first winning the race. This race not only affords much amusement to the spectators, but is excellent practice for the canoeist, who may thus teach himself how to act when accidentally upset while on a cruise.

Canoeing is a sport which is rapidly increasing in popularity in this country, and early next month the Annual Convention of the American Canoe Association will be held on Canoe Island, in Lake George, where a large number of canoeists will gather. Much business will be transacted, a number of races will be contested, and canoes of every known model will be exhibited during the three days of the Convention. During their stay the canoeists will camp out on the island, and they expect to have a jolly good time.

Canoes are of many styles, and range in price from $20 to $100. The former are canvas canoes, and the latter are of cedar and oak or birch, beautifully finished in every detail.

A number of boys have already written to the editor of this paper asking him what style of canoe is the best. This question can only be answered when it is accompanied by a description of the water on which the canoe is to be used, and the purposes for which it is wanted. For paddling on inland waters, and large carrying capacity, the birch is a good canoe; but being open, and without a keel, it is a "wet" craft, and not adapted for sailing. The canvas canoe, of which a description and directions for building have already been given in YOUNG PEOPLE, is also good for inland waters, is easy to paddle, can carry sail, and being decked over, will keep a cargo dry. The "Racine" and "Nautilus" canoes are the best for both paddling and sailing, and will stand heavy weather. The "Shadow" and "Jersey Blue" canoes are the best for sailing, and are generally preferred for salt-water cruising.

Any of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE who desire further information concerning canoes may address "Nautilus," and he will try to furnish it through Our Post-office Box.

THE BELL-RINGER OF 1776.

BY MARY A. P. STANSBURY.

Up from the gateway of the dawn The great sun lifted slow, And touched with fire the State-house spire, To eyes that watched with strong desire, A hundred years ago.

The ringer's foot was on the stair-- A gray-haired man was he, But firm of step and strong of arm, With heart that, warm through night and storm, Beat time to liberty.

"I'll climb the tower," he said. "My son, Stay thou to bring me word, And ere the glorious page be dry, My bell and I, 'twixt earth and sky, Shall bid the news be heard."

The boy's face from his father's eyes Reflected radiance wore: Hour after hour, the annals tell, Young sentinel, he guarded well The Senate-chamber door.

Hour after hour the shadow crept Along the State-house wall: The old man from his lofty seat Saw in the street the people meet, And looked upon them all--

Looked down upon the waiting throng, And up with burning eye To where the great bell silent hung, And from the tongue a spider swung Her slender thread on high.

He read the legend graven there-- His trembling lips were pale-- "Freedom through all the land proclaim." "God keep its name and spotless fame, Or rend it with His gale!"

The gray-haired ringer called aloud, And backward thrilled again A low vibration on the air, As if, aware of that wild prayer, The bell had cried, "Amen!"

Still crept the lengthening shadows on: Hope from his sinking heart Had well-nigh fled. He shook his head; "Alas! they will not sign," he said; His clasped hands fell apart.

But hark! a step that spurned the stair, Glad hands that clapped for joy, And upward still, and yet more near, A young voice shouting full and clear-- "Ring, father!" cried the boy.

He sprang aloft; with both his hands He grasped the iron tongue; The strength of ten was in them then. He swung it once--again--again, And suddenly there rang

From every steeple round about Such answering triumph-note, It seemed that all the world must hear, And cheer on cheer, afar and near, Went up from every throat.

Was never such a glorious peal! As when a cloud somewhere Has burst around o'er all the ground, So little rills of mellow sound Went trickling here and there.

And still the people shouted loud; No soul had room for fears; Even she whose son at Lexington The patriot-martyr's crown had won Smiled through her falling tears.

The ringer's hand has turned to dust, His hoary head lies low, But still the Independence Bell Is left to tell who rang so well A hundred years ago.

[Begun in No. 80 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, May 10.]

THE CRUISE OF THE "GHOST."