"What is a horse?" demanded Jack. "A horse? Why, there are two kinds of horses," returned Tip, slightly puzzled how to explain. "One kind of horse is alive, and has four legs and a head and a tail. And people ride upon its back."


Presently the Pumpkinhead asked: "What is that thing you are sitting on?" "Oh, this is a horse," replied the boy, carelessly. "What is a horse?" demanded Jack. "A horse? Why, there are two kinds of horses," returned Tip, slightly puzzled how to explain.


"I'll fix it!" said he, at length. He went into the wood and cut a short length of limb from a young, stout tree. One end of this he sharpened to a point, and then he dug a hole in the back of the Saw Horse, just behind its head.


So Jack held on tight, and Tip said to the horse: "Get up."


"Why, hold on to his ears," replied Tip, after a moment's hesitation. "Don't do that!" remonstrated the Saw Horse; "for then I can't hear." That seemed reasonable, so Tip tried to think of something else.


"I think I'll lay you upon the ground, overnight," said the boy. "You will be safer that way."


"I believe I do," returned the horse. "Very good. We are all going on a journey to the Emerald City, to see His Majesty, the Scarecrow; and Jack Pumpkinhead is going to ride on your back, so he won't wear out his joints."


asked the Saw Horse, in a surprised voice, as it rolled its eyes upward to look at the boy. "Of course it does," answered Tip. "And a hole in the ground means to stop, also, doesn't it?" continued the horse. "To be sure; unless you step over it," said Tip.


"That was a fast ride, dear father!" he exclaimed; and then, hearing no reply, he turned around and discovered for the first time that Tip was not there.


Tip's trouser legs and shoes were thoroughly soaked; but the Saw Horse had floated so perfectly that from his knees up the boy was entirely dry.


"Now," said Tip, instructing the Saw Horse, "if you wiggle your legs you will probably swim; and if you swim we shall probably reach the other side."


The man laughed, and it was not a nice laugh. "That wooden horse will float," said he; "and you can ride him across. As for the pumpkinheaded loon who accompanies you, let him sink or swim it won't matter greatly which."


The horse started at a good pace, and Tip followed behind. Then he decided they could go faster, so he shouted: "Trot!"


"Did you understand that sign?" asked His Majesty, politely. "Perfectly," declared Jack, reaching up his arms to turn his head to the front, the pumpkin having twisted around upon the stick that supported it.


"Exactly so, your Majesty" replied the other, bowing; "so it will be impossible for us to understand one another."


"Do you understand the language of the Gillikins, my dear?" "Yes, your Majesty," she answered, "for I was born in the North Country." "Then you shall be our interpreter," said the Scarecrow, "and explain to this Pumpkinhead all that I say, and also explain to me all that _he_ says. Is this arrangement satisfactory?"


"What does he say?" inquired the Scarecrow. "My ears must have deceived me. What did he say?"


"With all my heart!" exclaimed Jack. "What! Have you a heart?" asked the Scarecrow, surprised. "No; that was only imaginative—I might say, a figure of speech," said the other.


"There is this difference between us," said the Scarecrow, "that whereas I will bend, but not break, you will break, but not bend." At this moment the soldier returned leading a young girl by the hand. She seemed very sweet and modest, having a pretty face and beautiful green eyes and hair.


Tip seized the basket eagerly and began to eat, following for a time the strange girl without bothering to ask questions. She walked along before him with swift strides, and there was about her an air of decision and importance that led him to suspect she was some great personage.


"Oh!" he again exclaimed. "I didn't know there was a war." "You were not supposed to know it," she returned, "for we have kept it a secret; and considering that our army is composed entirely of girls," she added, with some pride, "it is surely a remarkable thing that our Revolt is not yet discovered."


For immediately he was surrounded by a crowd of girls who drew the knitting needles from their hair and began Jabbing them at the Guardian with the sharp points dangerously near his fat cheeks and blinking eyes.


"Good gracious!" returned the surprised Guardian of the Gates; "what a nonsensical idea! Go home to your mothers, my good girls, and milk the cows and bake the bread. Don't you know it's a dangerous thing to conquer a city?" [Illustration: image109] "We are not afraid!" responded the General; and she looked so determined that it made the Guardian uneasy.


His Majesty continued to throw the quoits as coolly as if no danger threatened his throne, but the Pumpkinhead, having caught sight of Tip, ambled toward the boy as fast as his wooden legs would go.


asked Jack Pumpkinhead. "Why, to my friend the Tin Woodman, who rules over the Winkies, and calls himself their Emperor," was the answer. "I am sure he will protect me." Tip was looking out the window.


"Oh, yes; I gave him a heaping peck of sawdust." "Excellent!" cried the Scarecrow. "Bring the horse here at once." The Soldier hastened away, and presently they heard the clattering of the horse's wooden legs upon the pavement as he was led into the courtyard. His Majesty regarded the steed critically.


"I'll have nothing more to do with that Pumpkinhead," declared the Saw Horse, viciously. "he loses his head too easily to suit me." There seemed no fitting reply to this speech, so for a time they rode along in silence.


With some difficulty the boy managed to get his knife out of his pocket and cut the cords that bound the riders to one another and to the wooden horse.


"To be sure!" answered Tip, soothingly. "I am sure Jack meant no harm. And it will not do for us to quarrel, you know; we must all remain good friends." "I'll have nothing more to do with that Pumpkinhead," declared the Saw Horse, viciously. "he loses his head too easily to suit me."


"Oh, my head isn't cracked in the least," declared Jack, more cheerfully. "Then don't worry," retorted the boy. "Care once killed a cat." "Then," said Jack, seriously, "I am very glad indeed that I am not a cat."


"It is a term of reproach," answered Tip, somewhat ashamed of the expression. "I only use it when I am angry."


He heard the Scarecrow fall to the ground with a mushy sound, and then he himself quickly dismounted and looked at his friend Jack. The wooden body, with its gorgeous clothing, still sat upright upon the horse's back; but the pumpkin head was gone, and only the sharpened stick that served for a neck was visible.


"I remember it was the same way with little Dorothy. We always had to sit through the night while she slept." "I'm sorry," said Tip, meekly, "but I can't help it. And I'm dreadfully hungry, too!" "Here is a new danger!" remarked Jack, gloomily. "I hope you are not fond of eating pumpkins."


"Perhaps you do," said the emperor; "for experience does not always mean wisdom. But time is precious just now, so let us quickly make preparations to start upon our Journey."


"I'm sure it makes no difference to me," replied the boy. The Saw Horse now ambled forward at a pace so fast that its riders had hard work to stick upon its back; so there was little further conversation until they drew up beside the palace steps.


"Dear me!" said the Scarecrow dolefully. "What a mess I'm in!" "Never mind, my friend," returned the Tin Woodman, "I'll send you to my Imperial Laundry, and you'll come out as good as new."


Said the Scarecrow to his personage: "Show us at once to your master, the Emperor." The man looked from one to another of the party in an embarrassed way, and finally answered: "I fear I must ask you to wait for a time. The Emperor is not receiving this morning."


"By no means," responded the emperor, with dignity. "It is, I am convinced, a strictly orthodox heart, although somewhat larger and warmer than most people possess." Then he turned to the Scarecrow and asked: "Are your subjects happy and contented, my dear friend?"


[Illustration: image143] "I thank your Majesty," said Jack, humbly. "I hope you are enjoying good health?" continued the Woodman. "At present, yes;" replied the Pumpkinhead, with a sigh; "but I am in constant terror of the day when I shall spoil." "Nonsense!"


"Pardon me," returned the Scarecrow. "My brains are slightly mixed since I was last laundered. Would it be improper for me to ask, also, what the 'T.E.' at the end of your name stands for?"


Therefore it is plainly evident that I am Highly Magnified, and there is no good reason why you should doubt the fact."


At these words they all looked around, only to find that they were indeed surrounded by a field of tall stalks, every stalk bearing at its top a gigantic sunflower.


It must be admitted that the round, black eyes were rather bulging in appearance; but the expression upon the Woggle Bug's face was by no means unpleasant.


Presently the Tin Woodman raised his head and looked over the fields. "What sort of creature is that which approaches us?" he asked, wonderingly.


While they paused, hesitating and wondering, the Tin Woodman uttered a cry of impatience and advanced with swinging axe to cut down the stalks before him. But now the sunflowers suddenly stopped their rapid whirling, and the travelers plainly saw a girl's face appear in the center of each flower.


"I beg you to be more careful in your speech," said the Pumpkinhead, sharply. "Remember, if you please, that it is my leg you are abusing." "I cannot forget it," retorted the Saw Horse, "for it is quite as flimsy as the rest of your person."


"How very unfortunate!" cried the Woggle Bug. Then he looked the party over carefully and said: "If the Pumpkinhead is to ride, why not use one of his legs to make a leg for the horse that carries him? I judge that both are made of wood."


But the Tin Woodman, having no fear of fire, averted the stampede by a few sensible words. "Look at the Field Mouse!" he shouted. "The fire does not burn her in the least. In fact, it is no fire at all, but only a deception."


The others marched on in silence, and the Highly Magnified one, after a period of deep thought, said in an humble voice: "I will endeavor to restrain myself."


[Illustration: image181] What the Queen said to them none of our travelers could understand, for it was in the mouse language; but the field mice obeyed without hesitation, running one after the other to the Scarecrow and hiding themselves in the straw of his breast.


So all except Jack Pumpkinhead, who was still tied fast to the Saw Horse, ran to the various entrances of the royal palace and closed the heavy doors, bolting and locking them securely.


So, in less time than I can explain, the throne room was deserted by all save the Scarecrow and his friends, and the Woggle Bug heaved a deep sigh of relief as he exclaimed: "Thank goodness, we are saved!"


"Well, perhaps," acknowledged the Scarecrow. The Woggle Bug groaned.


And, after what seemed a very long time indeed to the anxious watchers, the thinker sat up, looked upon his friends with his most whimsical expression, and said: "My brains work beautifully today. I'm quite proud of them.


So I suggest that my friend the Tin Woodman, who is a skillful mechanic, shall build some sort of a machine, with good strong wings, to carry us; and our friend Tip can then bring the Thing to life with his magical powder."


"The first thing required for the machine," said he, "is a body big enough to carry the entire party. This sofa is the biggest thing we have, and might be used for a body. But, should the machine ever tip sideways, we would all slide off and fall to the ground."


The Tin Woodman appeared last. He also had been to the courtyard, where he had cut four great, spreading leaves from a huge palm tree that was the pride of all the inhabitants of the Emerald City.


Having heard old Mombi pronounce the magic words, and having also succeeded in bringing the Saw Horse to life, Tip did not hesitate an instant in speaking the three cabalistic words, each accompanied by the peculiar gesture of the hands.


It was now that the wisdom of the Scarecrow, in bringing the head of the Thing to life instead of the legs, was proved beyond a doubt. For the Gump, already high in the air, turned its head at Tip's command and gradually circled around until it could view the roof of the palace.


The Woggle Bug lay flat upon the roof and so escaped harm, and the Tin Woodman, whose weight of tin anchored him firmly, threw both arms around Jack Pumpkinhead and managed to save him. The Saw Horse toppled over upon his back and lay with his legs waving helplessly above him.


"People with more or less education discovered those puns centuries ago," said Tip. "Are you sure?" asked the Woggle Bug, with a startled look.


"You have; and I've restrained a good many of them," replied the insect. "But there are opportunities for so many excellent puns in our language that, to an educated person like myself, the temptation to express them is almost irresistible."


"We must get back," exclaimed the Tin Woodman, earnestly. "we must get back as soon as possible!" "Turn around!" cried Tip to the Gump. "turn as quickly as you can!"


"All right," answered the Gump, briefly. It flopped its four huge wings and rose slowly into the air; and then, while our little band of adventurers clung to the backs and sides of the sofas for support, the Gump turned toward the South and soared swiftly and majestically away.


For Jack found his precious head resting on the soft breast of the Scarecrow, which made an excellent cushion; and Tip fell on a mass of leaves and papers, which saved him from injury. The Woggle Bug had bumped his round head against the Saw Horse, but without causing him more than a moment's inconvenience.


Something probably killed me then, and it certainly ought to have been the end of me. Yet here I am, alive again, with four monstrous wings and a body which I venture to say would make any respectable animal or fowl weep with shame to own.


CAUTION: Keep in a Dry and Dark Place." "Why, this is a very valuable discovery!"


"Why, the three pills are in the box again!" said the Scarecrow. "Of course they are," the Woggle Bug declared. "Didn't Tip wish that he'd never swallowed one of them? Well, the wish came true, and he _didn't_ swallow one of them. So of course they are all three in the box." "That may be; but the pill gave me a dreadful pain, just the same," said the boy.


"old Mombi couldn't use x's and minuses, for she never went to school." "Why not start counting at a half of one?" asked the Saw Horse, abruptly.


"Then," declared Glinda, "the throne of the Emerald City belongs neither to you nor to Jinjur, but to this Pastoria from whom the Wizard usurped it." "That is true," acknowledged the Scarecrow, humbly; "but Pastoria is now dead and gone, and some one must rule in his place."


"That is strange," interrupted the Woggle Bug, pompously. "I have been informed that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than a humbug!" "Nonsense!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, much provoked by this speech. "Didn't he give me a wonderful set of brains?"


"Perhaps it is a polite custom in Omaha, from which great country the Wizard originally came," suggested the Tin Woodman. "It may be," admitted the Scarecrow.


"That is true," replied the Sorceress, slowly. "But the Emerald City is now ruled by General Jinjur, who has caused herself to be proclaimed Queen. What right have I to oppose her?"


So we may suspect with good reason that Mombi aided him to hide the girl Ozma, who was the real heir to the throne of the Emerald City, and a constant danger to the usurper. For, if the people knew that she lived, they would quickly make her their Queen and restore her to her rightful position."


"for as nearly as I can make out she and her girls conquered me merely to rob my city of its emeralds."


So the girl passed through the gates, bearing a white flag to show she was on a mission of peace, and came to Glinda's tent.


"Now," said old Mombi to the Queen, "let your soldiers deliver up this girl to Glinda. She will think she has the real Mombi in her power, and so will return immediately to her own country in the South." [Illustration: image282] Therefore Jellia, hobbling along like an aged woman, was led from the city gates and taken before Glinda.


But Glinda was now really angry, and sent word to Jinjur that the fraud was discovered and she must deliver up the real Mombi or suffer terrible consequences.


The Gump flew along slowly at a point directly over the palanquin in which rode the Sorceress. [Illustration: image278] "Be careful," said the Tin Woodman to the Scarecrow, who was leaning far over the side to look at the army below. "You might fall."


Glinda agreed to these terms, well knowing that Mombi was somewhere within the city walls.


But, swift as was the Gump's flight, the pursued and pursuer moved more swiftly yet, and within a few moments were blotted out against the dim horizon. "Let us continue to follow them, nevertheless," said the Scarecrow. "for the Land of Oz is of small extent, and sooner or later they must both come to a halt."


"Now," said the Sorceress to Mombi, "I want you to tell us why the Wonderful Wizard of Oz paid you three visits, and what became of the child, Ozma, which so curiously disappeared." The Witch looked at Glinda defiantly, but said not a word.


"Because I would not come to him," answered Mombi. "That is no answer," said Glinda, sternly. "Tell me the truth." "Well," returned Mombi, with downcast eyes, "he visited me to learn the way I make tea biscuits." "Look up!" commanded the Sorceress.


"But it is merely a threat," returned Glinda. "I shall not put Mombi to death, because she will prefer to tell me the truth."


The Journey was made in safety, Mombi sitting in her place with a grim and sullen air; for the old hag was absolutely helpless so long as the magical thread encircled her throat.


The girl, in her gratitude to the Gump for its services, offered the creature any reward it might name.


Finding her advance thus baffled, Glinda bent her brows in deep thought, while the Woggle Bug said, in his most positive tone: "We must lay siege to the city, and starve it into submission. It is the only thing we can do."


Ozma made the loveliest Queen the Emerald City had ever known; and, although she was so young and inexperienced, she ruled her people with wisdom and Justice.


But when it came to the walls this brave assembly made a sudden halt; for Jinjur had closed and barred every gateway, and the walls of the Emerald City were builded high and thick with many blocks of green marble.


The result was a declaration of war, and the very next day Glinda marched upon the Emerald City with pennants flying and bands playing, and a forest of shining spears, sparkling brightly beneath the sun's rays.


"Where'd he go?" asked Sue. "Into Mr. Foswick's carpenter shop," her brother answered. "I saw him go in. We can get him easy now." On they ran, Bunny Brown and his sister Sue. A few seconds later they stood in front of the open door of a carpenter shop built near the sidewalk.


asked Harry, for Bunny and his sister had once owned a dog of that name. Splash had run away or been stolen in the winter and had never come back.


"We can't teeter tauter any more, Sue," objected Bunny Brown. "We have to go to the store for mother." "Yes, I know we have to go; but we can go after we've had another seesaw just the same, can't we?"


"Hum, that's funny!" said Bunny Brown. "How do you s'pose that dog got out with both doors locked?" asked Sue of her brother.


So Bunny shouted as loudly as he could: "Mr. Foswick! We didn't do anything! We didn't scatter your sawdust! You locked us in by mistake! Let us out, please!"


Now winter had passed, spring had come and gone, and it was early summer.


We got out of a window once when Bunker Blue, by mistake, locked us in the shed on the dock, and we can get out a window now." "Oh, I hope we can!" cried Sue. "And can we get the dog out of the window, too, Bunny?"


Now winter had passed, spring had come and gone, and it was early summer. Bunny and Sue had been playing in the yard before going to the store for their mother when the strange dog had sprung over the fence, snatched up the pocketbook, and had run off with it, darting into the carpenter shop.


Men and boys worked for him, and one big boy, Bunker Blue, was a great friend of Bunny and his sister.


Rattle and pull at the door as the children did, and turn the knob, which they also did several times, the door remained shut. "We  we're locked in!" said Sue in a sort of gasping voice, looking at Bunny.


"I don't see anything of him," said Sue, as she and Bunny made their way amid the piles of boards and lumber and over piles of sawdust and shavings toward the door. "You don't see anything of who?"


To amuse himself and his sister Bunny picked up a handful of nails and laid out a long railroad track. Then he got a big bolt and pretended that was a locomotive and shoved it along the track. "Where does the train run to?" asked the little girl.


"They came in once this afternoon," said Mr. Foswick, "and I made up my mind if they did it again I'd teach 'em a lesson. So I locked my back door, and I went into the alley near my front door. I knew all the windows were nailed shut.


I took off the beautiful diamond engagement ring you gave me, and put it in the pocketbook. I meant to take it out in a moment, but Mrs. Newton came over, and I forgot it. Then I slipped a five dollar bill in the purse and gave it to the children to go to the store. Oh, dear! what shall I do?" Mr. Brown looked serious.


Through the window, which he had broken with the hammer, Bunny had a glimpse of the street. As Sue had said, the drygoods merchant was just then passing.


It's his fault!" "Maybe it is," said Bunny, leaning forward to look out of the broken window. "Don't try to crawl out!" exclaimed Sue. "You might get cut!" "I'm not going to," said Bunny. "I was just seeing how far it was and where the hammer went. It's on the grass, and it isn't far out of the window at all.


"Let us go and see," added his sister Sue. "No, I don't think the dog is there now," said Lulu. "He wasn't standing still. He was running along." "Did he have anything in his mouth?" "Only his tongue and that was hanging out at first.


"Let us make sure," said Bunny; and a little later all of the boys and girls visited the hotel. One of the boys was a nephew of the proprietor so they had little trouble in getting the man's attention.


"It was very careless of me to put my lovely ring in the pocketbook, and then to forget all about it and let you children take it to the store," said Mother Brown.


"I guess this dog has run away, also," said Mr. Brown. "There wasn't a trace of him; nor of the pocketbook, either. But Mr. Foswick and I are going to look in the shop again to morrow by daylight. It may be the dog dropped the pocketbook, and it got kicked under a pile of sawdust or shavings."


"Oh, maybe he's down by the livery stable now!" exclaimed Bunny. "Let us go and see," added his sister Sue.


The little boy and girl well knew the "sparkler," as they sometimes called it. Daddy had given it to mother before their wedding, and Mrs. Brown prized it very much. "It was very careless of me to put my lovely ring in the pocketbook, and then to forget all about it and let you children take it to the store," said Mother Brown.


"I'll look for a uniform," said Bunny, and after hunting around a bit found a storm coat and a rubber hat. "I'll put these on." The coat was much too big for him and so was the hat. But he did not mind this.


"There was no sign of the other dog, either," Mr. Brown answered. "He must have been a stray dog that just ran through the town. A sort of tramp dog, I fancy."


The town of Bellemere, where Bunny and his sister lived, was partly on Sandport Bay and partly on the ocean.


In fact, they may see him and his boat this afternoon if they wish." "How?" asked Bunny eagerly. And Sue waited for the answer. "He is down at my dock, with his boat _Fairy_," was the answer.


asked Sue; and there was a catch in her voice, as though she was frightened; and she was. "Well," said Bunny slowly, "I guess maybe we'd better call." "Call!" exclaimed Sue. "What for?" "So daddy or Cap'n Ross will hear us and come and get us."


"How are we going to get 'em back?" asked one of Mr. Brown's men. "Oh, we'll do that easily enough," was the answer. "Bring around the big motor boat. We'll have to tow the _Fairy_ back here. I don't see how she ever got adrift," went on Mr. Brown. "I'm sure neither Bunny nor Sue loosened the cable."


But there's no great harm done. She isn't drifting fast, and the motor boat will soon pick her up."


"Yes. It's fun when you know daddy is coming," said the little boy. In a short time the motor boat reached the drifting _Fairy_. Mr.


"How do you s'pose we got loose?"


Bunker was here a little while ago, and said there was no use of searching any further. He went back to the dock, as you told him to."


"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Brown. "What does all this mean?" she asked her husband. "Did you really get back my pocketbook? Oh, if my ring has been found    " "I'm sorry to say it hasn't," her husband said. "Bunny did think he saw the dog that took it, but I very much doubt that."


"It was not the fault of Bunny and Sue," he added. "The boat might have drifted off with any one on board."


said Bunny, when they reached the house. "We got adrift on a boat, and we had a tow back, and I saw the dog that had your pocketbook, and I chased him and  and    " "And I know a riddle about when is a snowdrift like a boat," broke in Sue, not wanting Bunny to receive all the attention.


She was. In her little bed she was slumbering peacefully, and Bunny was soon back with his head on the pillow. "Poor little dears!" said their mother, as the lights were put out and the house locked for the night. "They are thinking too hard about the lost ring.


"Oh, we've really started!" cried Sue, as she saw the open water between the rail and the string piece of the wharf. "We'll go faster than this!" exclaimed Bunny. "Wait till Bunker Blue starts the motor."


"What  what's the matter? What am I down here for?" he asked wonderingly. And then his parents knew he was fully awake. "You have been walking in your sleep, dear," said his mother. "That's something you haven't done for a long time.


The _Fairy_ slowly headed toward the dock near the big summer hotel, which was one of a number at a well known resort on the bay. Some other boats had come up after having seen the canoe run down, but when it was found no help was needed, they sheered off again.


"If the water pail upset and spilled on him then the water would touch him," said Sue, after a moment of thought.


"They're all right," reported Mr. Brown, looking over the side of the boat. "All four of them can swim, and the young men have given the young ladies the life rings. They don't seem to be much frightened. Bunker is swimming for the canoe. I guess they'll be all right." "Yes, it looks so," said Captain Ross, also taking a look over the side.


"Did you see me throw the life buoy to you?" asked Bunny, changing the subject. "I'm afraid I didn't," answered Grace with a laugh. "And my eyes were too full of water," added Mildred.


"Oh! Oh!" gasped Sue. "He's going to save 'em!" cried Bunny. "I wish I could jump in and    " "Don't dare try that, Bunny Brown!" cried his mother, who heard what he started to say, and she put a hand on his shoulder to hold him.


"Well, anyhow, I threw one in to you," went on Bunny. "And I yelled when I saw you get run over," added Sue, just as if that, too, had helped. "I'm sure you did all you could," declared Mr. Watson. "And it was all our own fault that we got in your way. But no one is hurt, and we're little the worse for our adventure."


"Oh, look! Look!" cried Sue. "It's a merry go round goat! It's a merry goat, and Bunny's having a ride on his back!"


As she spoke the animal dashed straight for the whirling carousel, and Bunny's face, showing some fright, was turned toward his uncle and his sister.


Mighty foolish of 'em to try to cross in front of our bows! I expect we'll have to take 'em all on board here."


Next the two young men scrambled up, pulling themselves by means of the ropes from the life buoys. And last of all came Bunker Blue. He had the rope of the smashed and overturned canoe in one hand and was towing it along as he swam slowly.


They looked very much bedraggled, but they were laughing and did not seem to mind what had happened. Next the two young men scrambled up, pulling themselves by means of the ropes from the life buoys.


I steered the canoe right in your way. We ran into you  you didn't run into us."


"I hope my goat didn't hurt you when he ran away with you," said the man, walking up to Bunny, Sue, and Uncle Tad and leading the horned creature. "Oh, no, he didn't hurt me," Bunny answered. "But I didn't think he'd run away with me just 'cause I got on his back."


The goat slid along until he came up beside a lion, on whose back a frowsy young person was riding. "Oh, my!"


They sat around, looking a little anxiously at their father or mother as the boat plunged and rolled, but when they saw how calm their father, mother, Uncle Tad and Bunker Blue were, the children took heart also.


It seemed as if the _Fairy_ had struck something in the water. "Oh, we're going to sink!" cried Sue.


They were just going down into the cabin, and Bunny and Sue were on deck, looking at the distant green trees, when there was a sudden shock, a bump, and the boat keeled far over to one side.


"Thinking!" exclaimed his mother. "Yes, about the dog that took your pocketbook," went on the little boy. "I wanted to be in a quiet place where I could think about him and maybe guess where he was so I could make him give back your diamond ring, Mother.


"Oh, that could never happen!" declared Sue. So the lost Bunny was found, and then it was nearly time to get supper. The wind had all died out now, and it was so calm in the cove that Captain Ross decided to start the boat without further delay.


"Where did Bunny go, Sue?" asked Mother Brown. "Wasn't he sitting here with you?" "Yes, he was here a little while ago," answered Sue. "And then I was watching two of the sailboats to see if they would bump together, and I didn't look at Bunny.


"When you go swimming in deep water and get carried too far out, if you have a cake of soap tied around your neck it might wash you ashore! Ha! Ha! Ha!"


Well, all clear, Bunker?" he called. "Yes, sir," was the answer.


"How could you eat a cake of _soap_?" "You could if it was a chocolate cake," returned the little boy. "But that isn't the answer to the riddle.


"Well, maybe then it was a shark," the little girl went on. "They're not so fat." Captain Ross and Mr. Brown hurried below deck again, but presently came up, and the seaman said: "We can't find anything wrong below  no leak or anything.


The old seaman, with an anxious look around, called to Bunker Blue. "What happened? Did some one run into us?"


Instantly he pulled the wire which shut off the motor, and then he turned the steering wheel over, trying to make the boat come upright again.


Mr. Brown, Uncle Tad, Captain Ross and Bunker Blue unloaded the things, and Mr. Brown hired a man to cart them to the bungalow.


"Time for little sailors to turn in!" said Mother Brown, and soon Bunny and Sue were slumbering in little white beds in the bungalow. The rest of the family, except Bunker Blue, sat up rather late, talking over the events of the past few days.


"No, I didn't order any food for you, as I didn't know just what you'd want," explained Mrs. Madden. "If you're hungry," she said to the children, "you can come over to my cottage  it isn't far  and I can give you some bread and milk."


"Only you want to be careful." "Why?" asked Bunny. "'Cause the woods are awful thick. You can't see your way very well, and once Rose and I got lost." "Oh, we wouldn't go in very far," said Bunny. "Some day I'm going into those woods."


And then and there some tears rolled out of her eyes, down her cheeks, and dropped on the ground. Sue also "sniffled" a little, and she seemed to be holding back gasping, choking sounds in her throat.


He and Sue stood in the fast darkening woods and to their ears the bark of the dog sounded fainter now. "He's going away," announced Bunny. "Anyhow, I don't s'pose he was the same dog. That dog never could get away up here.


gasped Sue, so out of breath that she could hardly speak. "Oh, Mother! Come quick!" "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Brown, getting quickly to her feet. "Oh, it's Bunny's toe! It's Bunny's toe!" was all Sue said, and, catching hold of her mother's hand, she pulled her down toward the water.


However, Bunny was well out of this adventure, and when he had got over his fright his mother took him and Sue up under the shady umbrella and gave them some lunch.


Bunker had rigged up a rudder on the boat and there was a small centerboard in the middle to keep the craft from tipping over in a hard blow. "All aboard!" cried Bunny, pretending to help Sue to her place.


"Oh, he's gone! He let go my toe!" cried Bunny, and then he ran up the sandy shore as fast as he could go.


"Can't you skip, as we do when we play hopscotch?" asked Sue. "Maybe," her brother answered. He was about to try it, and his mother was just going to tell him that a better way would be to dip his foot back in the water when the crab might swim away, when the pinching creature decided to let go anyhow.


"I don't know just what it is. I was making a little house on the sand, and Bunny was wading in the water. All of a sudden he yelled, and told me to go and get you 'cause there was something the matter with his toe."


"But Bunker got him right out again!" Sue made haste to say. "It wasn't Bunker's fault," added Bunny. "He told me not to lean over."


"I could 'a' jumped in and got him out if he'd been near shore. I can swim," went on Jimmie, who was a regular seashore boy and quite at home in the water. "I can swim, too," went on Rose. "I'm glad neither of you had to jump in after Bunny," said Mrs. Brown, as the boat neared the dock. "I wonder how Bunny happened to fall overboard."


Then Mrs. Brown would be sad for a little while as she thought of her lovely diamond engagement ring, but she did not let Bunny or Sue see that she was unhappy.


"Be careful and don't go out too far!" called Mrs. Brown to Bunny and Sue, as she went up on the beach to talk to some friends, leaving the children in the water. "The tide is coming in."


And her husband would shake his head and answer: "There is no news. I saw Mr. Foswick, the carpenter.


"I'd find a way  just you wait and see," said Bunny confidently. The summer days passed pleasantly at Christmas Tree Cove. Mr.


"I was up on my grandpa's farm once, and I helped dig for potatoes in the ground," said Harry. "But I never dug for clams. I'd like to." "We'll show you how," offered Bunny. "Mother lets us dig soft clams, and she makes chowder of 'em. Come on, we'll go over and dig clams."


"Yes, that's a soft clam, and a nice big one," declared Bunny. "And I've got one myself!"


Soon the excitement had passed and the children were in bathing again, while their mothers either bathed, too, or sat on the beach and talked. Bunny and Sue liked Harry, and you may be sure the new boy was very thankful to Bunny Brown for pulling him up out of the water.


CHAPTER XVIII HELD FAST The first that Mrs. Brown knew of what was happening was when a woman near her screamed.


"Maybe we'll get stuck in the mud, too," suggested Harry. "Oh, I guess not," said Bunny. "Anyhow, if we do, it'll be fun." Seeing Bunny and Harry about to help her, Sue felt better. She gave up the notion of crying, and began to pull up, first on one foot and then on the other.


The boys went toward her. "Take the basket of clams," directed Sue. "I don't want to spill 'em!"


Could your dog run fast?" he asked Harry. "Oh, yes, terribly fast. But what's that about your mother's pocketbook?"


Come, Harry, tell us about your lost dog. We have lost one, too." So, while the thunder boomed and the lightning flashed, Mrs. Slater and Harry told about their dog Sandy.


Soon there was plenty of light in the room, and as supper was about over when the storm broke the family and their two visitors went into the sitting room of the bungalow.


"This dog was a big, yellow one," said Bunny, and he described the animal that had caused him and Sue so much trouble.


"Course it couldn't," declared Harry. "Children, I think we have made quite a find," said Mrs. Slater, as she looked carefully at the box. "I wonder to whom it belongs." "There's a name printed on it over here," said Bunny, pointing to the side of the box turned away from shore. "What does it say?"


"Maybe it's Sandy," insisted Harry. "I don't think there's any dog in it," Sue remarked. "But maybe there's pirates' gold." "Maybe," assented Bunny. "What's pirates' gold?" asked Harry. "It's gold the robber pirates take off ships," explained Bunny.


"That's a nice, good box," said Bunny, as he watched it bobbing up and down on the waves. "It's a box just like Mr. Foswick, the carpenter, makes." "And it isn't broken, either," added Sue. Usually the boxes she and her brother found on the beach were empty and smashed.


RAVENWOOD Bunny Brown and his sister Sue stood with Harry Slater and his mother on the beach and watched the wind and the tide bringing nearer and nearer to shore the floating box.


"Have we got to leave the box here?" asked Bunny. "No, I'll come back and get that after I land you," said the fish boy. So they all got into the boat, and it did not take Bunker Blue long to row them to shore. Then he went back, and, after a little hard work, he managed to get the box into his boat.


"I shouldn't want that to happen," she said, with a laugh. "I believe I shall have to do as you children have done, and go barefoot," and she glanced at Sue, who, by this time, had off her shoes and stockings.


"Let's build a big sand fort," suggested Bunny. "Oh, no, make it a doll house," cried Sue.


"No, we must not do that," said Mrs. Brown. "When your father comes home to night I'll have him write to this Mr. Frank Ravenwood of Sea Gate.


And he might have picked up the pocketbook. Of course it seems a very strange thing to have happened, but it is possible."


"I shall have just as much fun as the children," replied the mother of Bunny and Sue Brown.


"So do I!" echoed Bunny and Sue. The next day was such an anxious one for the children, who were waiting for the appearance of Mr. Ravenwood in his motor boat with the dog he had found, that Mrs. Brown finally said: "Come, kiddies, we'll go for a little picnic down on the beach."


"Can you tell me where Christmas Tree Cove is?" asked a young man in the boat. "It is right here," answered Mrs. Brown, waving her hand toward the groups of evergreens on the shore. Bunny, Sue, and Harry looked at the man in the boat, and then at something else.


We did all we could to get him back, but he disappeared, and we had to go on without him, much to Harry's sorrow.


"But what is this about a dog?" "You know we had a big dog named Sandy, of whom we were very fond," said Mrs. Slater, who, with Harry, was paying a call after supper on the Browns.


"Come on!" The lunch baskets were gathered up, and as they went down the beach to Mr. Ravenwood's boat Sue put her arms around Sandy's neck, looked into the brown eyes of the dog, and said very seriously: "Can't you tell what you did with my mother's pocketbook and diamond ring?"


"How did you lose that?" asked Uncle Tad. "I lost it overboard out of my boat in the fierce storm of the other night," was the answer. "I had packed the box full of wooden patterns, put it in my boat, and I had lettered my name and address on it in readiness for sending it away by express.


He was smiling pleasantly, and as he took off his cap and bowed to the ladies he said: "Davy Jones seems to have found out where he belongs all right. I presume this is Harry Slater," he went on, looking at the boy around whom the dog was leaping.


"Seems to have a little money in," he said, as he took out some nickles and pennies, and laid them on the cover. "Here's a  well, I declare, it's a five dollar bill!" he said, as he opened a piece of paper. "It's covered with oil and grease, but it can be washed clean and will be as good as ever."


"A pocketbook!" cried Bunny Brown and his sister Sue, and they looked at one another with startled eyes.


Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Slater sat behind the children, and in the back, or stern, near the engine, were Mr. Ravenwood and Uncle Tad and Bunker Blue. "Which dock shall I steer for?" asked Mr. Ravenwood, as the boat moved out from shore.


"Indeed! These fellows are cunning," mused the officer. "When will you guide me and a party of my people thither?" "To night." "It is well. I will be prepared. Where shall we meet?" "At the end of the cape, where you and he met a few days since."


Captain Ratlin, on his part, was ever the same; he found that he must wait some weeks even yet before he could prosecute the purpose of his voyage, and indeed he seemed to have lost all interest in it. His thoughts were full of too pure an object to permit him to participate to any extent in so questionable a business.


THE HUES OF LOVE. CAPTAIN BRAMBLE did not long remain contented on board his ship.


Untutored in the ways of the world and fashionable intrigue, yet the Quadroon saw very clearly that through Captain Bramble she might consummate that revenge which she had so signally failed in doing by the agency of the hostile negro tribes she had treacherously brought to her father's doors.


"Ay," said the girl, quickly, and with a shrill cadence of voice, "a double heart should be dealt doubly with. It was I who led these people hither, and I hoped the fate of so many of your ship's company might have been yours!  but you are a prisoner now, and there's hope yet!"


Taking her lonely place in the cabin, after the conversation just referred to, she again hid her face in her hands, and remained with her head bowed in her lap for a long, long while, half dreaming, half waking.


[Illustration: Talking in Church] LEVI BOING Are you a Goop, like Levi Boing? He never looks where he is going; He's always bumping into chairs, And stumbling, when he goes upstairs; He tips things over, bumps his nose.


It's shocking how a Goop will act! They have no manners, that's a fact. [Illustration: Calling Names] SUSIE KLEIN When e'er I hear a puppy whine, I always think of Susie Klein; I think of how she hangs her head, She doesn't speak   she _whines_, instead!


Often on the floor he'd throw it, Hoping mother wouldn't know it! Goops all hate to eat the crust; If you're told to, then you must!


She feared the worst, for Captain Bramble had taken measures to instruct those about her to their effect that the prisoner would be found guilty, and either strung cup by the neck at once, or be sent home to England for the same purpose.


He was a servant of Captain Bramble's, had attended his master in the attack, but having received a blow from a handspike upon the head, was rendered insensible at the first of the action, and had been carried on board his ship in that condition, from which state he had gradually recovered until it was thought he would be able to testify before the court at the present time.


Only the German colony was panic stricken, and on every German house an American flag was raised. It was rather humorous to see all the Germans who were active in the Turkish army in one capacity or another seek safety by means of this trick. This bombardment had a sobering effect upon the Mohammedan population.


When Ambassador Morgenthau visited Palestine, he had stayed in our village and given my family the evidence of his sincere friendship. These things count in the East, and I soon got the reputation of having influential friends. However, there were other ways of disposing of me.


Djemal Pasha had boasted that he had introduced law and order; the country was under military rule; it remained to see what he would say and do when the crimes of Fewzi Bey were brought to his notice.


"If I had been, I shouldn't have come back." "Then what did you do on the cruiser?" "I went to talk to the captain, who is a friend of mine. My life is in danger. Fewzi Bey is after me, and I wanted _my friends in America_ to know how justice is done in Palestine."


On the quay I ran into Hassan Bey, commandant of the police, who was superintending the embarkation of refugees. I knew him and he knew me.


Half an hour later I was in police headquarters under examination by Hassan Bey. I was desperate, and answered him recklessly. A seasick man is indifferent to shipwreck. This was the substance of our conversation:   "How did you get aboard the ship?"


All were engaged in a wild race to reach and mount the Tennessee's ladder. I scrambled up with the rest, and when, on the deck, an officer demanded my passport, I put on a bold front and asked him to tell Captain Decker that Mr. Aaronsohn wished to see him.


My life is in danger. Fewzi Bey is after me, and I wanted _my friends in America_ to know how justice is done in Palestine." "Who are your friends in America?" "Men who could break you in a minute." "Do you know to whom you are speaking?" "Yes, Hassan Bey.


[ILLUSTRATION: THE BAZAAR OF JAFFA ON A MARKET DAY] CHAPTER X A RASH ADVENTURE It was all very well to decide to leave the country; to get safely away was a different matter. There were two ways out. One of these  the land route by Constantinople  could not be considered.


Having gained her consent, I still had the difficult problem of ways and means before me. The Chester had orders to take citizens of neutral countries only.


Our baggage was carefully overhauled. No papers or books could be taken. My sister's Bible was looked upon with much suspicion since it contained a map of ancient Canaan. I explained that this was necessary for the orientation of our prayers and that without it we could not tell in which direction to turn our faces when praying!


I assured her, however, that our family would feel relieved to know that we were in safety and could come back fresh and strong after the war to help in rebuilding the country. Having gained her consent, I still had the difficult problem of ways and means before me. The Chester had orders to take citizens of neutral countries only.


Even when I had explained my plans and she was willing to admit the possibility of success, she still felt doubts as to whether it would be right for her to leave the country while her friends were left behind in danger.


At last the boat got away, and five minutes later we were mounting the side of the Des Moines. Throngs of refugees covered the decks of the cruiser. Their faces showed tension and anxiety. Their presence there seemed too good to be true, and all awaited the moment when the ship should heave anchor.


As the cruiser drew out of the harbor, a great cry of farewell arose from the refugees on board, a cry in which was mingled the relief of being free, anguish at leaving behind parents and friends, fear and hope for the future.


With a sinking at my heart I rushed up to the American Consulate for details and there learned that the U.S.S. Des Moines was to sail in a few hours for Rhodes with Italian and Greek refugees and that I could go on her if I wished. In a few minutes I had my permit changed for the trip on the Des Moines and I hurried home to my sister.


It was all so simple, and it brought me safely to Beirut. My donkey, having served the purpose for which I had brought him, was speedily abandoned, and I hurried to a friend's house, where I exchanged my uniform for the garb of a civilian.


All went well, and I hurried back to my sister triumphant.


If there had been any better promptings in the heart of Robert Bramble, they would have turned the balance in favor of his brother, and he would have befriended him; but this he did not do.


"Is he capable of this?" asked the younger brother, in tones of amazement. "Nobody should know better than I, sir, and I tell you yes."


"Who are you?" coolly asked Charles Bramble, for thus we must know him in future.


"Why, you see, that is your name, to be sure. Charles Bramble, and you are Captain Robert Bramble's brother, and  take care, hold still, or the file will cut you."


"But it is only a few hours since you were giving witness against me." "That is true; but bless you, sir, there has been a great change in matters since that."


"How,  do not trifle with me,  what is this which you are telling me?"


No, he felt nerved at once by this singular, this almost miraculous discovery, and could hardly restrain his impatience.


How he had never been kindly treated by his elder brother, who, indeed, drove him from home by his incessant oppression.


"You are too kind, too trusting in your confidence in me, Helen," he said. The only reply was from her downcast eyes, and a still warmer blush which covered the delicate surface of her temples even, and glowed in silent beauty upon her cheek.


He had the most to fear from the sentry placed on the top gallant forecastle of the ship, as that post was so near to his line of passage.


But to Helen herself he felt that he might, indeed that he must reveal the important truth, and that very evening as they sat together in one of the spacious apartments of the mission house, he took her hand within his own, and asked her if he might confide in her as he would have done with a dear sister.


In the meantime, Charles Bramble, who was an expert swimmer, had got out of gunshot and even sight of the ship, or rather where his head could not be discovered from the ship's deck, and was nearing the shore very fast.


Already I have given you a rough outline of my story, rough and uncouth indeed, since I could give it no commencement. You will remember that previous to the fall I got on ship board, while a boy in the 'Sea Lion,' I could recall no event.


Meanwhile none but his guide was to be seen by the traveller, so it was agreed, and he was to receive care and kind attention until the time appointed.


He could even detect his guide's voice among the rest, though the conversation was carried on scarcely above a whisper.


In a coarse, leathern belt, the negro wore a short double edged knife and a pistol, while in his hand he held a short, sharp spear, which served for staff and weapon both, and was designed more particularly for defence against the wild animals that infested the jungle in all directions.


Breathing into each other's ears the glad and trusting accents of true love, they sauntered slowly hither and sat down there, Helen upon the rude, but comfortable seat, and Charles at her feet upon the ground.


In Robert Bramble's case, it had reached a vital part at once, and had been almost instantly fatal in its effect. But Maud was dying!


"Nay, dearest, it was but your imagination; these reptiles avoid the near approach to human habitations, and would not be likely to be here." "There! there it is again," she said convulsively, drawing closely to his side, while both looked towards the spot from whence at that moment a sound proceeded.


While Charles and Helen were thus engaged, two other individuals closely connected with the plot of our story were not idle.


The Quadroon saw Helen and Charles thus together, she saw the delight that this meeting caused to both, she was witness to the eloquent language of the eyes that beamed into each other, and then she hastened from the spot, crazed with bitterness of feeling, and fall of direful purpose.


It was difficult to say what it was in his bosom which caused him so tenaciously to pursue this vain desire; his was not the heart to die for love, it amounted almost to obstinacy.


Her eyes rolled madly in their pockets, her hands grasped vainly at the air, and she muttered incoherently. "Maud, Maud, what have you done?" asked Charles, leaning over her. "The barb was poisoned, it  it  was meant for you!"


It was Robert Bramble, incensed beyond endurance at the sight which met his vision through the vista of the foliage on his approaching the spot; he paused but for one single moment, then yielding to the power of his almost ungovernable temper, he drew his sword and rushed forward, determined to sacrifice his brother's life.


The boy soon discovered the mutiny that was hatching, and told the captain secretly that it would occur at the moment land was announced from the mast head on making the islands of the West Indies.


Captain Bramble paused one second of time and repeated his order. It was not obeyed, and in the next instant the man lay a corpse with a bullet through his brains at the feet of his officer! This prompt punishment for a moment checked the action of the rest, but it was only for a moment when they moved aft in a body.


All paused, save two of the most daring of the rascals who continued to press on. Captain Ratlin now bade the mates to shoot the first man who came aft unbidden, while he marched a few paces forward, and once more bid them stand. They heeded him not, and the foremost one fell with a bullet though his heart!


Charles Bramble was accustomed to deal with such spirits; he was well armed at all hours, and prepared for the very trouble which was to come, inasmuch as he had anticipated it.


There was also a lad who had gone out in the "Sea Witch" as cabin boy, whom Charles Bramble was now bringing back with him to his family in Cuba, the boy having escaped the massacre which occurred when the "Sea Witch" was burned, and who had been living at Leonardo's factory. On him also he felt he could rely.


Captain Ratlin instantly drew a fresh weapon from his bosom and presented it at the other foremost man, "fall back, fall back, you imps of darkness, fall back, I say, or you die!"


This little affair, which came very near to costing Charles Bramble his life, was in one sense a fortunate one, since it put him on the best of terms with the owners, who had entrusted him with the "Sea Witch," and who now pressed a gratuity of $2000 upon him for his part of the present voyage, and forwarded him safely without expense on his return voyage to England.


"Are you afraid?" she asked.


"Lived away, you mean, from what I myself was?" "From what _I_ was. I was of course an ass," Marcher went on; "but I would rather know from you just the sort of ass I was than  from the moment you have something in your mind  not know anything."


At this, for a minute, their lightness gave way to their gravity; it was as if the long look they exchanged held them together. "It will only depend on yourself  if you'll watch with me."


Didn't she enjoy at periods a protection that she paid for by helping, among other services, to show the place and explain it, deal with the tiresome people, answer questions about the dates of the building, the styles of the furniture, the authorship of the pictures, the favourite haunts of the ghost?


"Here I am, you see. It hasn't been overwhelming." "Then it hasn't been love," said May Bartram. "Well, I at least thought it was. I took it for that  I've taken it till now.


It's only a question of the apprehension that haunts me  that I live with day by day." He said this so lucidly and consistently that he could see it further impose itself.


"What saves us, you know, is that we answer so completely to so usual an appearance: that of the man and woman whose friendship has become such a daily habit  or almost  as to be at last indispensable."


"Anything else but be interested?" she asked. "Ah what else does one ever want to be? If I've been 'watching' with you, as we long ago agreed I was to do, watching's always in itself an absorption."


"Precisely," Marcher interposed  "quite as if it were too delicate a matter for us to make free with. Quite as if we might find, on pressure, that I _am_ afraid. For then," he said, "we shouldn't, should we? quite know what to do."


"Where other people, you mean, are concerned?" "Well, you're really so in with me, you know  as a sort of result of my being so in with yourself.


"Our habit saves you, at least, don't you see? because it makes you, after all, for the vulgar, indistinguishable from other men.


If she had moreover, like himself, to make sacrifices to their real truth, it was to be granted that her compensation might have affected her as more prompt and more natural.


They had long periods, in this London time, during which, when they were together, a stranger might have listened to them without in the least pricking up his ears; on the other hand the real truth was equally liable at any moment to rise to the surface, and the auditor would then have wondered indeed what they were talking about.


She looked older because inevitably, after so many years, she _was_ old, or almost; which was of course true in still greater measure of her companion.


"More monstrous than all the monstrosities we've named?" "More monstrous. Isn't that what you sufficiently express," she asked, "in calling it the worst?"


"Are you telling me the truth, so that I shan't have been a bigger idiot than I can bear to know? I _haven't_ lived with a vain imagination, in the most besotted illusion? I haven't waited but to see the door shut in my face?"


He had to admit, however, what she said. "Oh yes, there were times when we did go far."


He had as much as charged her with this in saying to her, many months before, that she even then knew something she was keeping from him. It was a point he had never since ventured to press, vaguely fearing as he did that it might become a difference, perhaps a disagreement, between them.


She was "out of it," to Marcher's vision; her work was over; she communicated with him as across some gulf or from some island of rest that she had already reached, and it made him feel strangely abandoned.


"I mean the thing I've never said." It hushed him a moment. "More monstrous than all the monstrosities we've named?"


Say, however," he added, "that I've eaten my cake, as you contend, to the last crumb  how can the thing I've never felt at all be the thing I was marked out to feel?"


"How in the world  when what is such knowledge but suffering?" She looked up at him a while in silence. "No  you don't understand."


It rested on him with a weight he felt he could scarce bear, and this weight it apparently was that still pressed out what remained in him of speakable protest.


He sat down on a bench in the twilight. He hadn't been a fool. Something had _been_, as she had said, to come. Before he rose indeed it had quite struck him that the final fact really matched with the long avenue through which he had had to reach it.


What had the man _had_, to make him by the loss of it so bleed and yet live?


He gazed, he drew breath, in pain; he turned in his dismay, and, turning, he had before him in sharper incision than ever the open page of his story.


The creature beneath the sod knew of his rare experience, so that, strangely now, the place had lost for him its mere blankness of expression.


since she had loved him for himself; whereas he had never thought of her (ah how it hugely glared at him!) but in the chill of his egotism and the light of her use. Her spoken words came back to him  the chain stretched and stretched.


003:005 He therefore who supplies the Spirit to you, and works miracles among you, does he do it by the works of the law, or by hearing of faith?


004:015 What was the blessing you enjoyed? For I testify to you that, if possible, you would have plucked out your eyes and given them to me. 004:016 So then, have I become your enemy by telling you the truth?


Only don't use your freedom for gain to the flesh, but through love be servants to one another.


005:011 But I, brothers, if I still preach circumcision, why am I still persecuted? Then the stumbling block of the cross has been removed. 005:012 I wish that those who disturb you would cut themselves off. 005:013 For you, brothers, were called for freedom.


004:030 However what does the Scripture say?


002:010 They only asked us to remember the poor  which very thing I was also zealous to do. 002:011 But when Peter came to Antioch, I resisted him to his face, because he stood condemned.


006:006 But let him who is taught in the word share all good things with him who teaches. 006:007 Don't be deceived. God is not mocked, for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.


However, I have told the Rector that as you feel so strongly about it, I think that the chance of your damaging yourself in body is outweighed by the possibility of bitterness of spirit if you could not play.


In my regiment nine tenths of the men were better horsemen than I was, and probably two thirds of them better shots than I was, while on the average they were certainly hardier and more enduring.


I doubt if there is a more genuinely pathetic tale in all our literature than "Free Joe."


You see the mother bird with a worm in her beak, and the little birds with their beaks wide open!


It is the last great burst of bloom which we shall see this year except the laurels.


The other day an eagle came; this morning an owl. (I have drawn him holding a rat in one claw.)


It made great jumps and held its white tail straight in the air.


Kathleen looked distinctly unresigned. She hated drumsticks and all that they stood for in life. She disliked the wall side of the bed, the middle seat in the carriage, the heel of the loaf, the underdone biscuit, the tail part of the fish, the scorched end of the omelet. "It will make more difference to me than anybody," she said gloomily.


"Everything makes more difference to you, Kitty," remarked Gilbert. "I mean I'm always fourth when the cake plate's passed,  in everything! Now Julia'll be fourth, and I shall be fifth; it's lucky people can't tumble off the floor!"


Miserable, useless, flabby paws, those of the non joiner; that he feeds and dresses himself with, and then hangs to his selfish sides, or puts behind his beastly back!


I am telling you this, my dear Mrs. Carey," the writer went on, "just to get your advice about the child. I well know that your income will not support your own children; what therefore shall we do with Julia?


"I think," said Nancy suddenly, aware now of the trend of her mother's secret convictions, "I think Julia is a smug, conceited, vain, affected little pea  " Here she caught her mother's eye and suddenly she heard inside of her head or heart or conscience a chime of words.


On a certain morning in March Mrs. Carey sat in her room with a letter in her lap, the children surrounding her. It was from Mr. Manson, Allan Carey's younger partner; the sort of letter that dazed her, opening up as it did so many questions of expediency, duty, and responsibility.


inquired Kathleen. "I meant neater when he is just washed and dressed," retorted Peter's mother. "Are you coming to the family council, sweet Pete?"


"No, we always work first and play afterwards!" said mother, going on darning. Peter felt caught in a net of irresistible and pitiless logic.


"Muddy" is not an attractive name unless you happen to know its true derivation and significance.


Part of my tears are grateful ones that none of you can ever recall an unloving word between your father and mother!" "The idea," said Nancy suddenly and briefly, "is to go and live in that darling house!"


"That would be nice, after you clear away your toys and blocks." "I dess I'll play with Ellen first," suggested Peter, starting slowly towards the door. "No, we always work first and play afterwards!" said mother, going on darning. Peter felt caught in a net of irresistible and pitiless logic.


Father and you planted a tiny crimson rambler at the corner of the piazza at the side." "Do you suppose it ever 'rambled,' Muddy? Because it would be ever so high now, and full of roses in summer." "I wonder!" mused Mother Carey. "Oh! it was a sweet, tranquil, restful place!


Beulah means land of promise;  that's a good omen!" "And father found Beulah; and father found the house, and father blessed it and loved it and named it; that makes ever so many more good omens, more than enough to start housekeeping on," Nancy answered, kissing her mother goodnight.


This estimable lady and gentleman had no other names or titles and were never spoken of as if they had any separate existence. They had lived and loved and married and accumulated vast wealth, and borne Gladys. After that they had sunk into the background and Gladys had taken the stage.


Peter heard the words "next time" distinctly, and knew the grim face of Duty at last, though he was less than five. The second and far more tragic time was when he was requested to make himself ready for luncheon,  Kathleen to stand near and help "a little" if really necessary.


CHAPTER 2. Concerning The Posterity Of Adam, And The Ten Generations From Him To The Deluge.


Now a woman is called in the Hebrew tongue Issa; but the name of this woman was Eve, which signifies the mother of all living.


Now the garden was watered by one river,3 which ran round about the whole earth, and was parted into four parts. And Phison, which denotes a multitude, running into India, makes its exit into the sea, and is by the Greeks called Ganges.


He procured what tended to the pleasures of the body by that method; and first of all invented the art of making brass.


He also placed a crystalline [firmament] round it, and put it together in a manner agreeable to the earth, and fitted it for giving moisture and rain, and for affording the advantage of dews.


Now Nahor had eight sons by Milcha; Uz and Buz, Kemuel, Chesed, Azau, Pheldas, Jadelph, and Bethuel.


And so many nations have the children and grandchildren of Japhet possessed.


He named this well Rehoboth, which denotes a large space; but of the former wells, one was called Escon, which denotes strife, the other Sitenna, name signifies enmity.


"You see that parchment Oswald Crollius? He was one of the first to show me the way, though I don't think he ever found it himself.


He half expected to see the walls of the laboratory melt and disappear, and to awake in London, shuddering at his own sleeping fancies. But at last the door opened, and the doctor returned, and behind him came a girl of about seventeen, dressed all in white.


The sun still hung above the western mountain line, but it shone with a dull red glow that cast no shadows, and all the air was quiet; a sweet breath came from the great wood on the hillside above, and with it, at intervals, the soft murmuring call of the wild doves.


You may look in Browne Faber's book, if you like, and you will find that to the present day men of science are unable to account for the presence, or to specify the functions of a certain group of nerve cells in the brain. That group is, as it were, land to let, a mere waste place for fanciful theories.


Thoughts began to go astray and to mingle with other thoughts; the beech alley was transformed to a path between ilex trees, and here and there a vine climbed from bough to bough, and sent up waving tendrils and drooped with purple grapes, and the sparse grey green leaves of a wild olive tree stood out against the dark shadows of the ilex.


Before him stretched the long dim vista of the green causeway in the forest, as his friend had described it; he saw the swaying leaves and the quivering shadows on the grass, he saw the sunlight and the flowers, and far away, far in the long distance, the two figures moved toward him. One was Rachel, but the other?


He leant back, absorbed in one of those dreams to which he was subject, and at length drew out his book, and opened it at the last entry.


Like a boy before a jam closet, for a few minutes he would hover indecisive, but lust always prevailed, and Clarke ended by drawing up his chair, lighting a candle, and sitting down before the bureau.


who, if she is still alive, must now be a woman of twenty three, Rachel M., since deceased, who was a year younger than the above, and Trevor W., an imbecile, aged eighteen.


the daughter of a prosperous farmer in the neighbourhood. This girl, who was a year younger than Helen, was considered by most people to be the prettier of the two, though Helen's features had to a great extent softened as she became older.


The boy was taken to one of the bedrooms, and after some time recovered consciousness, but only to pass into a condition described by the medical man as one of violent hysteria.


His references proving satisfactory, the gentleman sent his adopted daughter to Mr. R., with a letter, in which he stipulated that the girl should have a room to herself, and stated that her guardians need be at no trouble in the matter of education, as she was already sufficiently educated for the position in life which she would occupy.


"By the way, Herbert," said Villiers, as they parted at the door, "what was your wife's name? You said Helen, I think? Helen what?" "The name she passed under when I met her was Helen Vaughan, but what her real name was I can't say. I don't think she had a name. No, no, not in that sense.


There were some slight bruises on his shoulders, but they were so slight that it looked as if he had been pushed roughly out of the kitchen door, and not thrown over the railings from the street or even dragged down the steps. But there were positively no other marks of violence about him, certainly none that would account for his death; and when they came to the autopsy there wasn't a trace of poison of any kind.


The dead man had not been robbed, and in one of his pockets were papers identifying him as—well, as a man of good family and means, a favourite in society, and nobody's enemy, as far as could be known. I don't give his name, Villiers, because it has nothing to do with the story, and because it's no good raking up these affairs about the dead when there are no relations living.


Clarke groaned; there could be no shadow of doubt. "Now, don't you agree with me," said Villiers, "that in the story I have told you to night, and in the part this woman plays in it, there are some very strange points?"


There was dead silence in the room for five minutes or more; the two men sat so still that they could hear the ticking of the tall old fashioned clock that stood outside in the hall, and in the mind of one of them the slow monotony of sound woke up a far, far memory.


I was coming out of a restaurant one nasty winter night about three months ago; I had had a capital dinner and a good bottle of Chianti, and I stood for a moment on the pavement, thinking what a mystery there is about London streets and the companies that pass along them.


It was the usual style of thing; a model lodging house in Marylebone, a door locked for several days, and a dead man in his chair when they broke in. 'The deceased,' said the paragraph, 'was known as Charles Herbert, and is believed to have been once a prosperous country gentleman.


I was in bed for a week, suffering from what my doctor called nervous shock and exhaustion. One of those days I was reading the evening paper, and happened to notice a paragraph headed: 'Starved to Death.


Of course I looked round, and this beggar turned out to be what was left of an old friend of mine, a man named Herbert. I asked him how he had come to such a wretched pass, and he told me. We walked up and down one of those long and dark Soho streets, and there I listened to his story.


Villiers whirled over the remaining pages; he had seen enough, but the picture on the last leaf caught his eye, as he almost closed the book.


Austin took the envelope, drew out the letter, and read it curiously. It ran as follows:— "MY DEAR VILLIERS,—I have thought over the matter on which you consulted me the other night, and my advice to you is this.


Argentine asked her how old the wine was, and what do you think she said? 'About a thousand years, I believe.


V THE LETTER OF ADVICE "Do you know, Austin," said Villiers, as the two friends were pacing sedately along Piccadilly one pleasant morning in May, "do you know I am convinced that what you told me about Paul Street and the Herberts is a mere episode in an extraordinary history?


As for the theory of mania, that is very well, of course, for the coroner's jury, but everybody knows that it's all nonsense. Suicidal mania is not small pox."


He was dressed in the light suit in which the valet had seen him go out, and the doctor who was summoned pronounced that life had been extinct for more than four hours. All papers, letters, and so forth seemed in perfect order, and nothing was discovered which pointed in the most remote way to any scandal either great or small.


As it happens, there is a street lamp close to the house in question, and I saw a man standing on the step.


I am sure that he did not see me; he saw nothing that you or I can see, but what he saw I hope we never shall.


He received no answer, and, after knocking two or three times, entered the room, and saw Lord Argentine's body leaning forward at an angle from the bottom of the bed.


There was a bamboo table by his side, a fantastic thing, enriched with gilding and queer painted scenes, and on it lay a little pile of papers arranged and docketed as neatly as anything in Mr. Clarke's office. "Well, Villiers, have you made any discoveries in the last three weeks?"


"You must have been in strange places, Villiers." "Yes, I have been in very strange places. It would have been useless, you know, to go to Ashley Street, and ask Mrs. Beaumont to give me a short sketch of her previous history.


She again disappeared, and the people of the place saw nothing of her till a few months ago. My informant told me that she had taken some rooms in a house which he pointed out, and these rooms she was in the habit of visiting two or three times a week and always at ten in the morning.


She took me down to the Strand, and then to Westminster, and then up St. James's Street, and along Piccadilly.


She took me down to the Strand, and then to Westminster, and then up St. James's Street, and along Piccadilly. I felt queerish when I saw her turn up Ashley Street; the thought that Mrs. Herbert was Mrs. Beaumont came into my mind, but it seemed too impossible to be true.


VII THE ENCOUNTER IN SOHO Three weeks later Austin received a note from Villiers, asking him to call either that afternoon or the next.


It is probably that, upon mature consideration, and after weighting the good and evil, I shall one day destroy this paper, or at least leave it under seal to my friend D., trusting in his discretion, to use it or to burn it, as he may think fit.


As you can see, I'm an old cat now, but in my younger days I was quite a traveler. My traveling days are over but last spring I took just one more trip and sailed to the Island of Tangerina, stopping at the port of Cranberry.


My Father Finds the Dragon 79 * * * * * _Chapter One_ MY FATHER MEETS THE CAT One cold rainy day when my father was a little boy, he met an old alley cat on his street.


"This river begins near one end of the island and flows into the ocean at the other.


He couldn't live on mice, so he took twenty five peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and six apples, because that's all the apples he could find in the pantry. When everything was packed my father and the cat went down to the docks to the ship.


He's got a long tail and yellow and blue stripes. His horn and eyes and the bottoms of his feet are bright red, and he has gold colored wings." "Oh, how wonderful!" said my father. "What did the animals do with him when his wing got well?"


It was a tangerine. He had been sleeping right under a tree full of big, fat tangerines. And then he remembered that this was the Island of Tangerina.


My father didn't know what to say because what would a monkey have on its back, and how would it sound telling someone about it if it did have something?


So my father walked until the sun rose and he was quite far from the Ocean Rocks. It was dangerous to stay near them because they might be guarded in the daytime. He found a clump of tall grass and sat down. Then he took off his rubber boots and ate three more tangerines.


The tigers went on talking in turn. "You're our first little boy, you know.


So he threw them each a piece but they only growled, "As fond as we are of chewing gum, we're sure we'd like you even better!" and they moved so close that he could feel them breathing on his face. "But this is very special chewing gum," said my father.


Sometimes the trees were clumped so closely together that he couldn't squeeze between them and had to walk a long way around. He began to hear whispery noises, but he couldn't see any animals anywhere.


Every once in a while one tiger would look into another's mouth and say, "Nope, it's not done yet," until finally they were all so busy looking into each other's mouths to make sure that no one was getting ahead that they forgo


"Now," said my father, "just move your tusk a little nearer, please, and I'll show you how to begin."


"Oh, wait a minute, Rhinoceros," said my father. "I have some things that will make your tusk all white and beautiful again.


My father crept along and peered into a small clearing just ahead. A lion was prancing about clawing at his mane, which was all snarled and full of blackberry twigs.


"It's my mane," said the lion, as he was figuring how many bites a little boy would make.


The voices passed my father and went around a curve, and he hurried on because he knew how much more upset the boars would be when they saw the lion's mane tied up in hair ribbons. [Illustration] Before long my father came to a crossroads and he stopped to read the signs.


"It's me, Crocodile," said a voice to the left. "The water's lovely, and I have such a craving for something sweet. Won't you come in for a swim?" [Illustration] A pale moon came out from behind the clouds and my father could see where the voice was coming from.


If he were on the other side, the gorilla would crank the rope until the dragon would either choke to death or fly back to this side. What a life for a baby dragon!


"If I don't think I can make it," said my father, "we'll fly over to the other side of the river and I can finish cutting the rope there." [Illustration] Suddenly the screaming grew louder and madder and my father thought the animals must have crossed the river.


Partly because he had finished his lollipop, and partly because, as I told you before, crocodiles are very moody and not the least bit dependable and are always looking for something to eat, the first crocodile had turned away from the bank and started swimming down the river.


_Chapter Ten_ MY FATHER FINDS THE DRAGON When my father was crossing the back of the fifteenth crocodile with two more lollipops to go, the noise of the monkeys suddenly stopped, and he could hear a much bigger noise getting louder every second.


My father didn't have a moment to spare. [Illustration] By now the dragon realized that my father was coming to rescue him. He ran out of the bushes and jumped up and down yelling. "Here I am! I'm right here! Can you see me?


But the other replied, "You are a little late, my friend: I only wish you had backed me up just now, even if you had done no more than speak, for I should have been encouraged, believing your words to be true.


THE TWO SOLDIERS AND THE ROBBER Two Soldiers travelling together were set upon by a Robber.


All went well for a while, until one day in winter time the Satyr saw the Man blowing on his hands. "Why do you do that?" he asked. "To warm my hands," said the Man.


THE MAN AND THE SATYR A Man and a Satyr became friends, and determined to live together.


THE EAGLE AND THE ARROW An Eagle sat perched on a lofty rock, keeping a sharp look out for prey.


He was born on that homestead, was brought up there, and had gone back and forth rubbing the stone with his sleeve until it reflected his countenance, and seemed to say, "Here is a hundred thousand dollars right down here just for the taking."


The old priest told Ali Hafed that if he had one diamond the size of his thumb he could purchase the county, and if he had a mine of diamonds he could place his children upon thrones through the influence of their great wealth.


As I come here to night and look around this audience I am seeing again what through these fifty years I have continually seen men that are making precisely that same mistake.


Well, then the old farmer said, "I will know," and with most commendable zeal (characteristic of the students of Temple University) he set himself at the study of the whole subject.


"Thus," said the guide to me, and, friends, it is historically true, "was discovered the diamond mine of Golconda, the most magnificent diamond mine in all the history of mankind, excelling the Kimberly itself.


His cousin answered, "All right, come on." So he sold his farm, according to the county record, for $833 (even money, "no cents"). He had scarcely gone from that place before the man who purchased the spot went out to arrange for the watering of the cattle.


I am always willing that my church should raise my salary, because the church that pays the largest salary always raises it the easiest. You never knew an exception to it in your life. The man who gets the largest salary can do the most good with the power that is furnished to him.


He flung the Bible down on my desk, and fairly squealed into my ear: "There it is, Mr. President; you can read it for yourself." I said to him: "Well, young man, you will learn when you get a little older that you cannot trust another denomination to read the Bible for you. You belong to another denomination.


"Well, then, you can measure the good you have been to this city by what this city has paid you, because a man can judge very well what he is worth by what he receives; that is, in what he is to the world at this time.


Do not wait until you have reached my years before you begin to enjoy anything of this life.


It is all wrong to be poor, anyhow. Let us give in to that argument and pass that to one side.


"What church does he go to?" "I don't know, and don't care. What are you asking all these questions for?" If you had a store in Philadelphia would you answer me like that?


He is not a successful man at all, although he may have laid up millions.


And when he got out into the street he laughed till the whole machine trembled. He said: "He drive this machine!


He could not carry paper and envelopes twenty feet. I suppose he could not get his arms down to do it. I have no pity for such travesties upon human nature.


Said the boy, "I will not lose any more money in that way." Then he went around first to the doors and asked the people what they did want.


It was first a collar button with a spring cap attached to the outer side. Any of you who wear modern waterproofs know the button that simply pushes together, and when you unbutton it you simply pull it apart.


At a banquet here in Philadelphia there sat beside me a kind hearted young man, and he said, "Mr. Conwell, you have been sick for two or three years.


But he acted upon the hint, and the next morning when Mary came down the stairway, he asked, "What do you want for a toy?"


Its fortune was made by John Jacob Astor after they had failed in business, not by giving them any more money, but by finding out what the ladies liked for bonnets before they wasted any material in making them up.


I tell you if a man could foresee the millinery business he could foresee anything under heaven! Suppose I were to go through this audience to night and ask you in this great manufacturing city if there are not opportunities to get rich in manufacturing.


If you have not capital, young man, I am glad of it. What you need is common sense, not copper cents.


He began to make a little money, and then a little more, and Mr. Lawson, in his _Frenzied Finance_ says that man is the richest man in old Massachusetts, and I think it is the truth.


Who invented the cotton gin of the South that enriched our country so amazingly? Mrs. General Greene invented the cotton gin and showed the idea to Mr. Whitney, and he, like a man, seized it.


My friends, did you ever read that wonderful book of Riis (his memory is sweet to us because of his recent death), wherein is given his statistical account of the records taken in 1889 of 107 millionaires of New York.


"I was born in this room," he said to me, simply, as we sat together recently [3] in front of the old fireplace in the principal room of the little cottage; for he has bought back the rocky farm of his father, and has retained and restored the little old home. "I was born in this room.


It's dull enough these many years," he added, somberly. "To Ring it represented not only his captain, but the very glory and pomp of war.


But he couldn't sell it, and on the day of the execution we knelt solemnly here, from eleven to twelve, just praying, praying in silence for the passing soul of John Brown.


In this isolated burying ground bushes and vines and grass grow in profusion, and a few trees cast a gentle shade; and tree clad hills go billowing off for miles and miles in wild and lonely beauty.


The Conwell house was a station on the Underground Railway, and Russell Conwell remembers, when a lad, seeing the escaping slaves that his father had driven across country and temporarily hidden. "Those were heroic days," he says, quietly. "And once in a while my father let me go with him.


And as we prayed we knew that others were also praying, for a church bell tolled during that entire hour, and its awesome boom went sadly sounding over these hills."


Every step forward, every triumph achieved, comes not alone from his own enthusiasm, but because of his putting that enthusiasm into others.


It is a spacious and practical and complete church home, and the people feel at home there.


But it was Lexington, it was brave old Lexington, inspiring Lexington; and he was inspired by it, for the man who himself inspires nobly is always the one who is himself open to noble inspiration.


"Not long after my talk with the man who owned the land, and his surprisingly good hearted proposition, an exchange was arranged for me one evening with a Mount Holly church, and my wife went with me.


For that little struggling congregation now owns and occupies a great new church building that seats more people than any other Protestant church in America  and Dr. Conwell fills it!


And there, at the funeral, he handed me what she had saved  just fifty seven cents in pennies." Dr. Conwell does not say how deeply he was moved; he is, after all, a man of very few words as to his own emotions. But a deep tenderness had crept into his voice.


Her parents pleasantly humored her in the idea and let her run errands and do little tasks to earn pennies, and she began dropping the pennies into her bank."


The chairman of the meeting got Lincoln a glass of water, and Conwell thought that it was from a personal desire to help him and keep him from breaking down.


For many years I had felt more or less of a call to the ministry, and here at length was the definite time to begin. "Week by week I preached there"  how strange, now, to think of William Dean Howells and the colonel preacher!


And he told with a sort of shamefaced pride of how he had got a good old deacon to give, in all sincerity, the evidence that exculpated him.


'" "'Singers,' it should be translated," he puts in, lifting his eyes from the page and looking out over his people.


I have known him at the very end of a sermon have a ripple of laughter sweep freely over the entire congregation, and then in a moment he has every individual under his control, listening soberly to his words. He never fears to use humor, and it is always very simple and obvious and effective.


It is seldom that he uses an illustration from what he has read; everything is, characteristically, his own. Henry M. Stanley, who knew him well, referred to him as "that double sighted Yankee," who could "see at a glance all there is and all there ever was."


Not only singers, but the modern equivalent of psaltery and tabret and cymbals, all have their place in Dr. Conwell's scheme of church service; for there may be a piano, and there may even be a trombone, and there is a great organ to help the voices, and at times there are chiming bells.


For example, he is reading the tenth chapter of I Samuel, and begins, "'Thou shalt meet a company of prophets.'" "'Singers,' it should be translated," he puts in, lifting his eyes from the page and looking out over his people.


His musical taste seems to tend toward the thunderous  or perhaps it is only that he knows there are times when people like to hear the thunderous and are moved by it. And how the choir themselves like it! They occupy a great curving space behind the pulpit, and put their hearts into song.


No one thought it strange. I was likely enough the only one who noticed it.


Those who have long known him well have said to me that they have never heard him censure any one; that his forbearance and kindness are wonderful.


But there are times when he is sad and doubtful over some particular possibility. And he intensely believes in prayer  faith can move mountains; but always he believes that it is better not to wait for the mountains thus to be moved, but to go right out and get to work at moving them.


Were it not that he possesses some remarkable quality of charm he would long ago have become, so to speak, an old story, but instead of that he is to them an always new story, an always entertaining and delightful story, after all these years.


No one thought it strange. I was likely enough the only one who noticed it. His people are used to his sincerities. And this time it was merely that he had a few words to say quietly to God and turned aside for a few moments to say them.


Yet his own people recognized the beauty and poetry of them, and thousands of Bibles in Philadelphia have a baptismal rose from Dr. Conwell pressed within the pages.


But all this was changed long ago.


Dr. Conwell did some beautiful and unusual things in his church, instituted some beautiful and unusual customs, and one can see how narrow and hasty criticisms charged him, long ago, with sensationalism  charges long since forgotten except through the hurt still felt by Dr. Conwell himself.


When Taylor died there was a memorial service in Boston at which Conwell was asked to preside, and, as he wished for something more than addresses, he went to Longfellow and asked him to write and read a poem for the occasion.


Such considerations seem absurd in this twentieth century, but in Philadelphia they are still potent. Tens of thousands of Philadelphians love him, and he is honored by its greatest men, but there is a class of the pseudo cultured who do not know him or appreciate him.


One almost comes to think that his pastorate of a great church is even a minor matter beside the combined importance of his educational work, his lecture work, his hospital work, his work in general as a helper to those who need help.


While on garrison duty in the Civil War he organized what is believed to have been the first free school for colored children in the South. One day Minneapolis happened to be spoken of, and Conwell happened to remember that he organized, when he was a lawyer in that city, what became the first Y.M.C.A. branch there.


"But I know that I don't know enough." "Take the millinery course in Temple University," he responded.


I honor those who came so devotedly to help. And it should be remembered that in those early days the need was even greater than it would now appear, for there were then no night schools or manual training schools.


There was something superb in the very imagining of such a nation wide system. But I did not ask whether or not he had planned any details for such an effort. I knew that thus far it might only be one of his dreams  but I also knew that his dreams had a way of becoming realities.


And the hospital has a kindly feature that endears it to patients and their relatives alike, and that is that, by Dr. Conwell's personal order, there are not only the usual week day hours for visiting, but also one evening a week and every Sunday afternoon.


I should know the song of this brook anywhere." It would seem as if he loved his rugged native country because it is rugged even more than because it is native! Himself so rugged, so hardy, so enduring  the strength of the hills is his also.


He has several secretaries, for special work, besides his private secretary. His correspondence is very great.


One day, however, after some years, he took it off, and people said, "He has listened to the criticism at last!"


But such realization only makes him work with an earnestness still more intense, knowing that the night cometh when no man shall work. Deeply religious though he is, he does not force religion into conversation on ordinary subjects or upon people who may not be interested in it.


Only a man of immense strength, of the greatest stamina, a veritable superman, could possibly do it.


He dines at one, after which he takes fifteen minutes' rest and then reads; and at three o'clock he addresses, in a talk that is like another sermon, a large class of men  not the same men as in the morning. He is also sure to look in at the regular session of the Sunday school.


And fishing is even better, for in fishing he finds immense recreation and restfulness and at the same time a further opportunity to think and plan.


He is a trout fisher, too, for it is a trout stream that feeds this pond and goes dashing away from it through the wilderness; and for miles adjoining his place a fishing club of wealthy men bought up the rights in this trout stream, and they approached him with a liberal offer.


"I determined," he says, "that whatever I could do to make the way easier at college for other young men working their way I would do."


Many had come from miles away. Yet the lecture had scarcely, if at all, been advertised.


In the circumstances surrounding "Acres of Diamonds," in its tremendous success, in the attitude of mind revealed by the lecture itself and by what Dr. Conwell does with it, it is illuminative of his character, his aims, his ability.


Always his heart is with the weary and the heavy laden. Always he stands for self betterment. Last year, 1914, he and his work were given unique recognition.


Doesn't it seem incredible! 5,124 times' I noticed that he was to deliver it at a little out of the way place, difficult for any considerable number to get to, and I wondered just how much of an audience would gather and how they would be impressed.


In the Johnstown flood region I saw a bridge go out behind our train. I was once on a derelict steamer on the Atlantic for twenty six days.


Many of them have ascended into the Shining Land, and here I am in mine age gazing up alone, _Only waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown_. Fifty years! I was a young man, not yet of age, when I delivered my first platform lecture.


For a time the road ran along a pleasant little river, on which a number of canoes and boats could be seen.


"I'm glad of that, Grace." "Though I didn't really delay you much; did I?" "No, I wasn't complaining," and Betty put a caressing hand on the arm of her companion. "We'll be able to make up for lost time now," said Mollie, as she shifted her little valise from one hand to the other.


But it was a vain hope. They did not see the man along the road, and inquiries of several persons they met gave no trace. Nor had he reached Middleville, as far as could be learned. If he had, no one had noticed him.


He stood regarding it curiously. "Oh, dear!" cried Grace. "And I was so hungry!"


The man was still standing there, looking at the valise as if in doubt whether or not to open it. Betty with a glance at her chums walked on. They followed.


"Not at all," Betty insisted. "We have a double reason for giving it to you. First, you are hungry. Second, please accept it as a reward for  " "For not eating all of your lunch after I found it, I suppose you were going to say," put in the man, with a smile.


"Oh, but this is lonesome," said Amy, with a sigh. "Girls, what are we to do?" demanded Mollie. "We simply must go on to my sister's," declared Grace. "What will she think, if we don't come?"


"If there was only some way to let your sister know," spoke Mollie. "I wonder if there's a telephone?" It needed but a little survey to disclose that there was none. "If we could only see someone  send for a covered carriage, or send some word  " began Amy.


"Then we'll stay anyhow!" cried the Little Captain. "We are in charge and we can't desert now."


"If we could only see someone  send for a covered carriage, or send some word  " began Amy. "Oh, well, for the matter of my sister worrying, that doesn't amount to much," interrupted Grace.


We'll always think of 'next' times. I shall trust Nancy next time, and next time and next time, and keep on trusting till I can trust her forever!"


He was even kissed now, though he had done nothing at all but exist and be an enchanting personage, which is one of the injustices of a world where a large number of virtuous and well behaved people go unkissed to their graves!


"Oh! she is so beautiful!" sobbed Kathleen, "her bonnet is just the color of her eyes; and she was crying!" "There never was anybody like mother!" said Nancy, leaning on the gate, shivering with cold and emotion.


THE CRIMSON RAMBLER I MOTHER CAREY HERSELF "By and by there came along a flock of petrels, who are Mother Carey's own chickens....


screamed Amy, and she pointed to a huge, hairy creature lumbering down the middle of the highway.


For the track walker they had met had talked of the young ladies he had met, and there was much printed speculation about them. "I'm glad we didn't give our names," said Grace.


Mollie was wearing a bright vermilion scarf knotted about the collar of her blouse. "It isn't big enough," decided Betty. "But we must do something.


"But what about the train?" asked Betty. "Oh, I'll stop that all right.


Let them declare, whether it was of most importance to the happiness of the people of America, that the articles of Confederation should be disregarded, and an adequate government be provided, and the Union preserved; or that an adequate government should be omitted, and the articles of Confederation preserved.


It could not be unknown to them that the hopes and expectations of the great body of citizens, throughout this great empire, were turned with the keenest anxiety to the event of their deliberations.