HERE IS A SEASONABLE little puzzle picked up by the sea, which to a certain extent meets the demands of some of the younger puzzlists who have at times suggested the presenting of a puzzle which might be solved by a guess “pure and simple,” and which would give the veriest little, tot as good a chance to win the prize as a big-headed mathematician.
To make a slight digression, however, I may say incidentally that my experience has shown that the bright little puzzlists, as a matter of actual fact, get more than their share of prizes, and exhibit surprising natural wit in getting at the true inwardness of a puzzle by quick intuition.
Nevertheless, be that as it may, here is the problem as picked up on the beach. You see, it was the opening of the season last week down at Coney Island, and as a matter of course, all society had to be there, and I went along with the “push.” We had shot all the chutes, tested our strength and lungs on all the machines, and knew just how many times we could hit the darkey's head with a base ball, when we were attracted by the liberal offer of a ten dollar bill to the one who could climb to the top of a greased pole in the fewest number of minutes. I did not compete for the prize, and am not represented part way up to the pole with that far-away, wearied look, but that little darkey did get to the top and furnished the subject, for the present puzzle. I timed him during his performance of the feat, and obtained the following data for the problem:
THE PUZZLE.
He would climb up six feet in six minutes and then slip back three while resting, and kept right on working at that rate, going up six and falling back three, until he reached the top.
Of course, as the problem is to tell how long it took him to reach the top, our puzzlists would like to know the height of the pole, so I took a snapshot photograph of the scene, just as he was taking a rest, and so everything is true to nature and may be depended upon just as well as if you were there.
Boys can doubtless base their calculations upon practical experience, but I think the girls are more lucky at guessing and will stand just as good a chance to win the prizes offered for the best solutions first received, for the guess as to how long it took that little darkey to climb to the top of the pole giving the best reason for the opinion offered.
Of course, this is a puzzle based upon actual facts, as most puzzles are, and it would be a simple matter for any one to run down there and measure the height of the pole, but, strange to relate, this little problem was hatched out upon the very day of the great fire, and in giving the puzzle I present the last picture taken of the famous old Bowery at Coney island.
There is really nothing difficult about the puzzle, for if you have your wits about you it is a simple matter to guess the height of the pole.
In this little problem which was given to afford the young folks an opportunity of exercising their ingenuity and common sense, it was told that the ambitious darkey would climb six feet in six minutes, but that at the end of every six-foot climb he would slide back three while taking a rest. The height of the pole was to be guessed at or to be calculated according to facts or circumstances as shown in the picture.
Of course, a good many were completely nonplussed and saw no ground upon which to base their calculations. Among puzzlists, however, there was a wonderful unanimity of opinion regarding the height of the pole, which anyone with half an artistic eye would place somewhere between eighteen and twenty feet, without giving any other reason than the general effect of the shadows in the picture.
The idea of judging of the height of a tower or pole from the length of its shadow is well known. One of Sir Walter Scott's knights figured out the height of a tower with the aid of a ten-foot lance, but a clearer illustration of the principle is given in Conan Doyle's “The White Company,” where Sir Nigel and his gallant comrades were locked tip in a besieged castle:
“The grizzled archer took several lengths of rope from his comrades and knotting them together he stretched them out in the long shadow, which the rising sun threw from the frowning keep. Then he fixed the yew-stave of his bow upon end and measured the long, thin, black line which it threw upon the turf. ‘A six-foot stave throws a twelve-foot shadow,’ he muttered. ‘The keep throws a shadow of sixty paces, so thirty paces of rope will be enough’”
There is the secret of this little puzzle. All shadows in the picture will lie in the same proportion to the heights of the objects which cast them. A plumb line from the finger tips of that sporting man will show that the shadows are to the scale of one-third the height of the objects. The pole, therefore, is three times as high as the shadow from center of pole to end of shadow line. We can then compute the length of that shadow from the fact that all trolley car tracks are four feet eight inches wide and we will readily find that the pole is nineteen feet eight inches high.
Now, remembering the fable of the frog in the well, we can allow for the various slips of the little darkey and will find that he gets a firm hold on the top of the pole in just thirty-four minutes and forty seconds!
2.
When is a trunk like two letters of the alphabet? When it is M T (empty).
Why is a waiter like a race-horse? Because he runs for cups and plates, as well as steaks (stakes).
What sort, of a day would be a good one to run for a cup? A muggy one.
Why are sticks of candy like race-horses? Because the more you lick them the faster they go.
Why ought a greedy man to wear a plaid waistcoat? To keep a check on his stomach.
Why are free sittings in church very immoral? Because you are getting good ”for nothing.
When is a bedstead not a bedstead? When it's a little buggy.
Why, when you are going out of town, does a railroad conductor cut a hole in your ticket? To let you pass through.
What is the greatest instance on record of the power of the magnet? A young lady, who drew a gentleman thirteen miles and a half every Sunday of his life.
When are handcuffs like grip sacks? When made for two-wrists (tourists).
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