JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

TREAD lightly this summer, my friends, or, rather, look before you step. If I were the Deacon, I'd carry the idea into a deal of useful talk for your benefit, and tell you of all sorts of moral and mental ways where it's best to tread lightly. But I do not mean that; I am thinking of my friends, the Ants. They are a hard-working, industrious class of society, never intending the least harm; and yet I cannot tell you how often their wonderful under-ground houses are trampled upon and broken in by thoughtless feet.

There is no harm in kneeling on paths and bywalks, and watching them at work; but if you'll please be careful where you step, your Jack will be much obliged.

I've a host of other tiny friends which I'd like to recommend to mercy, but to speak for one is to speak for many. All my youngsters need is a hint, and the same feeling that spares the Ants will guard the others.

Now for a few words about

THE CRIPPLING BROOK.

DEACON GREEN told some bare-legged little boys one day, in my hearing, that he had noticed a singular circumstance while they were wading in the big brook by the school-house. The Little School-ma'am, he said, had called it a "rippling brook," but for his part he was inclined to call it a "crippling brook," since it seemed to break the boys' legs as soon as they fairly stood in it. Now, the Deacon is a truthful, straightforward man. What did he mean by this, boys?

DO YOU BELIEVE IT?

HERE is a startling question from a Canadian friend. But it may be that, on looking into the

matter, you will discover some facts that have escaped little Snow Bunting. If so, don't forget to send me word about them.

DEAR JACK: I heard a girl read from a book, some days ago, that the Niagara Falls were once seven miles farther down the river than they are at present. Now, dear Jack, do you believe that? I have my own opinion of that book, but as you know a great deal, I thought I would consult you about it. Why, I am just from Canada myself, and I heard nothing about the matter. SNOW BUNTING.

A SINGING MOUSE.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: We live near Newark, New Jersey. One day Mother sent for an old table, which was "up-garret," as our cook says. When the table was dusted off and placed in Mother's room, we heard a faint little song like that of a timid canary. As the song seemed to come from the table, we opened its drawer, but found nothing. Then the son sounded forth sweet and clear, but still faint. We listened and listened, and finally Mother pulled the drawer entirely out, when, there in its far corner, cuddled up in a little ball, we found a live mouse,-a real singing mouse! It was quiet enough for a while, poor frightened little thing! but it grew tame in a few days, and began to sing again at odd moments. It was not just "pe-ep! pe-ep!" but a real, real song, like a bird's, only not so long or so loud. He did not live many weeks, though we cared for him as kindly as we could; and when he died we buried him in the garden, and my brother wrote "A SWEET SINGER" on a shingle and set it up for a head-stone. You can print this letter, if you choose, for it is true. Did ever you hear of such a thing, dear Mr. Jack? I am your friend, EDITH C. M. WAVERLEY, June 14, 1881.

Yes, Edith, your Jack is well acquainted with a charming little singing-mouse, and he has heard of others. The dear Little School-ma'am says she once read an account of a singing mouse, named Nicodemus, that made friends with a caged canary. The bird and mouse even sang duets together. She says the mouse's song was as sweet, clear, and varied as the warbling of any bird, but that it had a tinge of sadness. Bless her! Likely enough the tinge of sadness was in her own heart, for who could help pitying a poor little wingless mouse with the soul of a bird!

DOLLY'S OMELET.

HERE is something from our friend S. W. K.: Lucy had heard her brother read that in some part of Africa, the natives make a fine omelet in an "untroublesome" way, as she expressed it. They break a hole in the shell of the ostrich-egg at the small end, put in salt and other seasoning, stir all into the egg with a stick, then set it in hot ashes-the embers heaped to the opening in

the shell-until the egg is cooked.

Some one had given little Lady Lucy a wee white egg, smaller than Mrs. Bob White lays. Lucy decided to make it into an omelet for Dolly Cornelia. She measured the salt for it on Dolly's thumb; put in three specks of pepper, and a piece of butter the size of the blue in Cornelia's eye. She stirred with a broom-straw, bidding Dolly watch how it all was done. "You might be a housekeeper yourself, some day," said the little mother.

With an inch-wide shovel, a mound of warm ashes was made on the stove-hearth, and there the wee egg was put to roast. It was served on a plate the size of a ginger-snap, and set before the staring Dolly liked it very much indeed. Cornelia. After a while, Lucy ate the omelet, and reported that

WEATHER WISDOM.

I AM told that a certain wise man, who is called "the clerk of the weather," can tell pretty surely if it will be warmer or colder, wet or fair, for a few days ahead; perhaps he can. But I know many a bird and insect that knows quite surely what the weather will be, and that provides beforehand against storm and heat and cold.

I have heard, indeed, that a wonderful man named Henry Thoreau said, if he should wake from

a trance in the midst of a New England swamp, he could tell by the appearance of the plants what time of the year it must be, and not be wrong by more than ten days. Well, Thoreau perhaps could have made good the gentle boast, for he knew almost all that one man could know about Nature in New England, and he kept a book in which he wrote, for every day in the year, the names of the flowers that, according to what he had observed, ought then to be in bloom.

But I wonder what Thoreau would have said if he had waked from a trance in the middle of this last spring? I think he would have been puzzled; and so, too, he might have been had he lived in the year 1816, in every month of which there was a frost, and which is called "the year without a summer."

Yet Jack does n't believe that in either of these periods the birds and insects were puzzled at all about the times and seasons.

CHINESE SKILL IN METAL-WORK.

DEAR MR. JACK: The letter you showed to us in your July budget, about "wonderful glassmending," reminds me of a fact recorded in a book as true. If true, it certainly proves that the Chinese have great skill in metal-working. Those dishonest men in China, who are most successful in making false money, produce pieces which look, feel, and weigh so nearly like the good money that the people find it almost impossible to tell the difference. And so the Chinese Emperor actually gives pensions to these wonderful counterfeiters; that is, he pays them handsome yearly incomes, as bribes to induce them not to make false money! Truly yours,

F. M. LEE.

SPIDERS AS SERVANTS.

YOUR Jack used to think that every tidy housekeeper had a strong

objection to spiders, and made it a duty to brush down their webs when found in-doors. But one of my birds has been telling me that, on some of the West India Islands, the tidiest housekeepers would n't be without spiders on any account. In many a human dwelling there, the faithful creatures are hard at work trying to free the house from disagreeable insects. They know just what they have to do, and they do it without being told, so they are respected, and valued as good servants. In fact, their usefulness is so well known that in almost every market these many-legged "householdhelps" may be seen for sale.

LIVING PITCHERS.

DOWN beside a shady pool that glimmers in the marsh sits a curious family. You can see in the illustration what they look like. They are living pitchers, each formed of a purple-tinged leaf, with strong ribs and purple veins; and from the center of the group rises here and there a long stem, carrying on its top a nodding purple blossom.

The pitcher has a flaring mouth, or lid, which never closes, but on which is spread some sweet gummy stuff that attracts flies and insects; and down the middle at the outside is a sort of frill, or wing. The leaf keeps always about half-full of a

liquid resembling water, and, inside, it is covered with short hairs that point downward. When an insect falls into the pitcher, it soon is drowned, for the liquid stupefies it, and the bristles prevent it from climbing up and out. After a while, the body of the insect disappears, for the leaf digests it. The Sundew, also, digests or eats animal food; and so, too, do several other plants, including that queer one called "Venus's Fly-trap," which has leaves that close like a rat-trap on any flies that brush against the hairs lining their inner surfaces. By the way, there was a lady in New Jersey who kept one of these fly-traps as a curiosity. She got it from North Carolina, its native country; and she

used to feed it now and then-a very little at a meal-with small bits of potato, cheese, bread, and uncooked beef. One

day she put her finger on the bristles, just to find out what would happen. Snap! went the trap, and gripped her closely. Then came a prickly feeling, then a sharp pain, and, at last, a racking ache that made her take away her finger. But she said she did n't believe the poor insects who get caught feel much pain, for, no doubt, they die at once.

A MOTHERLY ROOSTER.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: After reading Lizzie H.'s letter, which you showed to us in the March number, I thought I would write to tell you and her about a rooster belonging to a neighbor of ours. He is a very large, black, and handsome bird; the man who owns him bought some little chickens, that had been hatched by machinery, and, just for a whim, he gave them to this rooster. To his great surprise, the stately bird at once adopted them, taking them under his wings at night, and clucking and scratching for them with all the motherly care of an old hen that was used to the business.

If any one goes into the yard, he will run with the chicks to his coop. He never leaves them nor injures them by stepping upon them. He has raised a good many families of little chickens which have become nice large fowls, some of them as large as himself. Now, let some of your readers see if they can muster such a rooster.-Your constant reader, J. E. W.

CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the 1st of July and the 15th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was very much interested in your directions, in the May number, for making bubbles; but I want to tell you how I make them sometimes. I take an empty spool, and rub it on the soap: then dip it in the water-but only a very little-and blow through the other end, and you will find you have as nice a bubble as though you used a pipe.-Your constant reader, MAIE STEVENSON.

OUR thanks are due to Messrs. George Bell & Sons, for their courtesy in allowing us to reprint, in our "Treasure-box of English Literature," two poems by Bryan Waller Procter.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would like to have a letter from a little girl in South Australia, so I send you one. By the pictures in ST. NICHOLAS I see you have much snow in America; the ground is sometimes covered with snow and ice. Perhaps some of your readers will be surprised when I say that I never saw snow in my life, and it is not many times that I have seen ice. We have it very hot here at Christmas time, but Santa Claus comes to Australia in spite of the heat, and brings us little children nice presents. I am told that when the people here are up, you are in bed; this seems very curious to me.

We have lots of stars in our sky; more than you have, I think. You can't see the Southern Cross. Adelaide is a lovely city, with gardens everywhere, and nearly every day we can play in the open I do like South Australia so, but I should like to see snow, and to see the boys snow-balling.-Yours truly,

air.

ELSIE BONYTHON, of Adelaide, South Australia.

NO DOUBT, hundreds of our young friends have read with great interest the accounts of Lord Nelson's victories on the Baltic and the Nile, and many another thrilling description of fierce conflicts on the sea, And all who like such narratives would do well to read the article printed in Scribner's Monthly for June, entitled “An August Morning with Farragut."

Apart from the exciting incidents which it narrates in fine style, the article has great value to all young students of their country's annals, as a bit of history, since it is written by Lieutenant Kinney, who himself was upon the same vessel with Admiral Farragut, and an eye-witness of the scenes which he describes.

We can heartily commend this paper, moreover, as a just tribute to a noble-hearted and patriotic American admiral whose wonderful victories have made him known to the world as one of the greatest naval commanders that ever lived.

DEAR EDITOR: I thank you for the ST. NICHOLAS. I should n't think Kitty Brown's mother would try her so many times, when she forgot to shut down the piano-lid. She told her she would try her only just once. Kitty's mamma told her a wrong story; I think she did. She gave her some dough and some mince-meat,-enough to make two pies; and Kitty never shut the piano-lid at all, and left it open five times,-to see the monkey, to see her friends, to see her papa- No; that is three times. How will Kitty know, after this, HELEN TIBBUT, six years old.

what her mamma will do?

You are quite right, Helen, in thinking that Kitty's mother tried a wrong plan for curing her. And this is one of the lessons that the story was meant to teach.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought that I should like to tell the girls of a party which took place here, in Florida. The children who attended it were between the ages of six and thirteen. They came early in the afternoon, dressed plainly in lawns, percales, or piqués, played heartily, and went home before dark. It was arranged and carried out entirely by little girls. They selected and learned the speeches and songs, dressed the dolls, arranged the throne, and went to the woods to get two May-poles, which they brought home, planted

firmly in the ground, twined with gray moss, and decorated with strips of gay-colored cambric.

About sixteen girls and boys were invited, and I think I have never been at a happier party, nor witnessed a prettier scene.

The throne was placed under an arch formed by the meeting branches of two large pink oleanders in full bloom, and on and around it were grouped more than thirty dolls, dressed to represent the Queen of May, the Four Seasons, Ceres, Iris, Cupid, Morning, Evening, several Maids of Honor, Flora with her flower-girls, and Titania with her fairies. The throne was covered with gray moss,

and decorated with palms and flowers.

The children stood around the throne and recited the speeches for their respective dolls, and sang two or three May songs. Then followed the dance around the May-pole, and refreshments of cake, lemonade, and strawberries, served out-of-doors.

Hoping that this true account of the way some children in the Land of Flowers enjoyed themselves may interest other children, I remain truly your friend, "FLORIDA."

"LITTLE COOKS."-Ella G.'s letter interested us very much. In our opinion, Miss Parloa's "New Cook-Book," published by Estes & Lauriat of Boston, is the one you need. It is simple, exact, and tells just the things that girls and young housekeepers must learn, if they wish to avoid expensive mistakes.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My Aunt Lulu had a cat once that liked music. Whenever Lulu played on the piano the cat would come and sit on the steps and I sten. Once Lulu left the piano open, and by and by she heard a funny sound on it, and when she came downstairs and found the cat, she was surprised. The cat would jump upon the keys from one side and run across and then jump upon the other and go back again. HARRY MACCORD (10 years).

THE following item, copied from the New York Tribune, may interest those of our readers who remember the beautiful engraving of Mr. Millais's painting of "The Princes in the Tower," which was published in ST. NICHOLAS for February, 1880:

Mr. Millais's well-known picture of the "Princes in the Tower" has just been sold in London for nineteen thousand dollars. The artist has lately had an unpleasant accident. As he was leaving the Levee, a footman, in hastily shutting the carriage-door, jammed two of the fingers of Mr. Millais's right hand, crushing them severely.

EDNA MCDOWELL.-The little German girl's words to Cora, in the poem "Babel," printed in the May number, mean, “Oh! oh! I can not understand you!" To the French girl, she says: "What does she [Cora] mean? When you know it, I should be glad to hear." The French girl says: "Really! really!" and then: "I know that it is not polite; will they think ill of me for laughing?"

THOSE of our readers who are interested in the article upon "Flat-boating," in the present number, as well as those who have read the many admirable stories which Mr. Frank R. Stockton has contributed to this magazine, will be glad, we feel sure, to read the following extracts from a private letter recently received from him: DEAR - I want to tell you of the very pleasant trip we had down the Indian river. I will not insult you by telling you in what part of Florida the Indian river is, but I have been obliged to inform nearly every other person of my acquaintance, to whom I spoke on the subject, that it is a long arm of the sea running down the east coast of Florida, and separated from the ocean by a narrow strip of land, sometimes not over a hundred yards wide. The river varies in width from six miles to thirty yards. Great portions of its shores are entirely unsettled, and much of its scenery is wild and novel.

When I determined to take my holiday last March, Mrs. Stockton and I, with three young friends,-a lady and two gentlemen,-went up the St. John's River nearly its entire length,-a very picturesque and interesting trip, and then proceeded overland to Titusville, on the Indian River. Here we chartered a sail-boat for our journey to Jupiter Inlet, the southern limit of the river. The boat was the largest we could get, but was not large enough to accommodate the whole party at night; so we took with us a tent. Our entire trip occupied three weeks. We were six days going down the river, stopping every night to camp. At Jupiter Inlet we made a perma

nent camp, where we staid ten days,-putting up the tent-a rude palmetto hut-and permanently mooring the boat. We were within half a mile of the ocean, and the river at that place is one of the finest fishing-grounds on the continent. We fished two or three hours every day, and had splendid sport. We caught, altogether, over seven hundred pounds of fish, many of the fish being very large. The finest-principally blue-fish and bass-we picked out for our own eating, and gave the rest to a man at the light-house, who was salting fish for market. The light-house was about a mile from our camp, across the river, and was the only habitation within twenty or thirty miles of us. Our style of living was very primitive, but we laid in a good stock of provisions at Titusville, and enjoyed our life exceedingly. Our boatman was a good cook, and his little boy was general assistant, and handed around the cups and dishes. For the whole of the three weeks, we lived almost entirely in the open air (the cabin of the boat being open at one end), and yet none of us took cold, and all thrived exceedingly..

The water of the river was salt, making its influence perfectly healthful, and we had fine weather during the whole trip, being visited by two short gales only.

There were more interesting incidents than I want to bore you with now; but you can imagine what a delightful time we had. Some of the scenery on the river, especially in "the Narrows," was wonderfully tropical and beautiful. On our return-trip, we stopped at a little solitary store, to replenish part of our stock of provisions, and our boatman told us we had better get here all that we wanted, for it was sixty-five miles to the next store. This will give you an idea of how the country is "opened up."

When we finished our charming journey, we regretfully gave up our open-air life, and returned to the habits of civilization.

*

When he reached the palace and saw the princess brown, He took his fan in one hand and on the floor sat down. He set six tops a-spinning and he drank a cup of tea, And then he drew a polygon that was just as big as he;

Then he lit a fire in the frying-pan,-
The pan all black and yellow,
And he rose and took the princess,
And borrowed Cham's umbrella;
And while the smoke grew denser,
And the tops began to whir,

Right up and out and through the roof
Flew off the conjurer!

All up and down his kingdom, the land of Much Chum Fee,
The great Prince Cham goes wandering as sad as he can be;
For he 's lost his mighty conjurer, and the heir he had is gone,
And he can not find them anywhere, though he looks from sun

to sun;

And still he mourns his discontent, the source of all his woe
(For "half a cup is better than no tea at all," you know);
But he 'll never get his Princess back, for very far away
The conjurer has hidden her in the city of Bombay,
Where she spins the tops of magic and she rides the butterfly,-
The wonder still and envy of all the passers-by.

MRS. R. C. In response to your wish to know of a good book of Kindergarten movement songs for your little ones, we would name Mrs. Clara Beeson Hubbard's compilation, lately published by Balmer & Weber, of St. Louis. You will find replies to nearly all of your queries in the preface to this work by Miss Susan E. Blow. The compiler claims that the book is the result of years of careful trial and selection. The songs having been tested practically, besides being very simple and effective, they are of just the sort that must interest children.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the May number, I read the story of "Little Totote," and I send this as a kind of sequel, hoping you will like it.

LITTLE TOTOTE AGAIN.

One day, when Totote was eating her bread-and-milk, she said: "Nurse, I don't like to stand on my head any more. I think it makes me feel too dizzy. But I like to look in my gold spoon,only I do not want to be on my head.

"Oh, is that it?" said Nurse. "I am afraid little Totote will have to give up looking into her spoon, if she does not like to stand with her head downward."

But Totote shook her pretty curls, and said she would talk to her kitty about it. So she took Kitty in her arms and showed her the spoon, and said: "Kitty, Kitty, tell me how I can look in my gold spoon and not have to stand on my head."

Kitty looked very wise, and was very still. She did n't even mew. But pretty soon she put up her soft little paw on the table, and played with the gold spoon until she turned it over.

And-what do you think? There was Totote, with laughing eyes and dancing curls, in the back of the spoon, and right side up, too!

"Oh, Nurse!" she cried; "now, I can look in my spoon and not have to be on my head, after all, unless I choose! I can do both ways whenever I like. I thought Kitty would know about it.' And Nurse was very much surprised, indeed, to see that this was really true. W. P. B.

THE many boys and girls who have read that interesting story, "Elizabeth; or, the Exiles of Siberia," and also the accounts of the Empress Catherine's ice-palace, certainly must think of Russia as a cold country. And almost all of us associate it more with wintry landscapes of ice and snow, than with such scenes as the one depicted on page 748 of the present number. But you who have studied geography do not need to be told that Russia is one of the largest countries on the globe; and, excepting the strangelooking harness on the horse, and the queer costumes of the workers, this harvest-scene is almost exactly like haying-time in our own fields. Probably this sketch was made in some part of Southern Russia, which, as many of you know, contains, perhaps the richest wheat-fields in Europe.

AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION.-FIFTH REPORT. We invite your attention this month to something brighter than butterflies, sunnier than flowers, and busier than bees. Let us consider the girls and boys who have thus far joined the army of the "A. A." More than a thousand strong, they are scouring the prairies of Kansas, climbing the foot-hills of the Sierras; discovering beautiful caves in the Rocky Mountains; analyzing magnoliablossoms in Mississippi; killing rattlesnakes on their own door-steps in Colorado; studying geology in England; gathering "edelweiss" from the slopes of the Alps; wandering, by permit, through New York's Central Park; spying out specimens from the mica mines of Vermont: picking up tarantulas and scorpions in Texas; searching or the flowers and insects of the Argentine Republic; gathering algæ and sea-shells on the coast of Florida; growing wise in the paleontology of Iowa; arranging the variously colored sands of the Mississippi river in curious bottles; in Massachusetts, anxious to know whether "the limnanthemum of our waters has roots"; sending from Chicago to learn about the "center of buoyancy"; holding field-meetings in Illinois; celebrating the birthday of Professor Agassiz (May 28) in New Hampshire with a picnic and appropriate exercises; giving entertainments, and realizing "enough to buy a cabinet and have thirty dollars over to start a library" in Oregon; making wonderful collections in Virginia; enjoying the assistance and listening to the lectures of eminent scientists in Philadelphia; enrolling scholars and teachers in Connecticut and Rhode Island; determining to become professors in the District of Columbia; writing fraternal messages from Canada; selecting quartz crystals from the hot-springs of Arkansas; discovering geastrums on Long Island, and everywhere learning to use their eyes in detecting the beautiful in the common, and the wonderful in the before despised.

told that, by careful management, you can get a red, white, and blue

cocoon.

Nothing has been more gratifying than the perseverance which the members of our different chapters manifest. Their interest grows continually. Here is the way the secretary of the Auburn, Ala. chapter writes:

"Our chapter began in February with five members, and now contains fourteen. More than half of our members are girls-good, honest, hard-working girls in the society. They do not wait for help from their parents, but do the work themselves. The boys are on the alert from one meeting to the next, and come laden with curiosities of all kinds. The attendance is always good, and the reports are full of interest. We are very anxious to have a badge We are always going to collect two specimens of each kind, so as to send you one. We shall strive to make this the banner chapter of the Association."

Such letters as these stir up in us very warm feelings toward our friends in the "sunny South," and when we add to them hundreds of a similar tenor from the far West, East, and North, we feel that the young people of our country are full of noble and affectionate feeling, and we are sure that a united study of the wonders of Nature, created for us by our Heavenly Father, is drawing us all more closely together in the bonds of a common brotherhood.

"Kansas is of much interest," we are told by a member of the wide-awake Atchison chapter, "as it is full of fossils and petrifactions, Here ancient and extinct animals have roamed at large, and their remains have been discovered."

We are now starting on our second thousand. We hope to mature a more systematic plan of work before many months. Meanwhile, sionally one writes and forgets to give his address, or fails to inclose a press on. We intend personally to answer every letter; but occa

Does solitude check enthusiasm? Listen to a voice from the wild shore of Lake Worth, in southern Florida:

81.

Wellsville, N. Y. (A).

82.

Brooklyn, N. Y. (B).

"We have no church, school, or stores within seventy miles of us. We have a mail only once a week, and the last twelve miles the mail-carrier carries the mail on his back, walking along the sea-beach. We have no good books of reference on natural history, but shall be able to collect numbers of interesting specimens, both from sea and land. I have found a great many algæ on our coast."

Mr. Edward Moran, one of our most diligent members, has the excellent habit of making daily notes of what he finds of interest. Some of them read as freshly as a page from White's "Selborne," a book which all boys and girls should read. He says:

"I came across a common reddish-brown hairy caterpillar, curled up under the bark on a stump. I warmed him for a moment on my hand, and he woke up. I took him home, and soon he commenced building his cocoon out of his own hairs. After he had finished, I cut off the end of the cocoon and put a little cotton-wool in the box. He took to it very readily, and patched up his cocoon with it. I am

..

McKae.

4.. D. F. Sarber.

7.. Miss E. Guernsey Bingham. 5. Crowell Hadden, 69 Remsen

street.

7..C. D. Hazen.

10.. W. C. Chase, 11 Nesmith st. 18.. Miss Mary N. Lathrop, Genesee Co.

7.. Ralph S. Tarr.

7.. Wm. T. Frohwein, 218 Stan

ton street.

6.. John R. Blake, 26 West 19th

street.

7.. Miss Alice Brower, Dutchess County.

5.. F. A. Wheat, P. O. Box 612.

12.. Miss F. F. Haberstro, 11

High st.

7.. Fred. E. Keay.

6.. Miss Harrie G. White.

James R. Covert, P. O. Box 685.

16. Miss Addie W. Smith.