engineer cum down to me in a precious hurry, and says he: "Tom, what d'ye think? Blest if we ain't found a stowaway!'

"I didn't wait to hear no more, but up on deck like a skyrocket; and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. Every manJack o' the crew, and what few passengers we had aboard, was all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and in the middle was the fust mate, lookin' as black as thunder. Right in front of him, lookin' a reg'lar mite among them big fellers, was a little bit o' a lad not ten year old-ragged as a scarecrow, but with bright, curly hair, and a bonnie little face o' his own, if it hadn't been so woful and pale. The mate was a great, hulkin', black-bearded feller with a look that 'ud ha' frightened a horse, and a voice fit to make one jump through a keyhole; but the young un warn't a bit afeard he stood straight up, and looked him full in the face with them bright, clear eyes o' his'n, for all the world as if he was Prince Halferd himself. You might ha' heerd a pin drop, as the mate spoke.

"Well, you young whelp,' says he, 'what's brought you here?' "It was my stepfather as done it,' says the boy, in a weak little voice, but as steady as he could be. 'Father's dead, and mother's married again, and my new father says as how he won't have no brats about eatin' up his wages; and he stowed me away when nobody warn't lookin', and guv me some grub to keep me going' for a day or two till I got to sea. He says I'm to go to Aunt Jane, at Halifax; and here's her address.'

"We all believed every word on't, even without the paper he held out. But the mate says: 'Look here, my lad; that's all very fine, but it won't do here-some o' these men o' mine are in the secret, and I mean to have it out of 'em. Now, you just point out the man as stowed you away and fed you, this very minute; if you don't, it'll be worse for you!'

"The boy looked up in his bright, fearless way (it did my heart good to look at him, the brave little chap!) and says, quietly, 'I've told you the truth; I ain't got no more to say.'

"The mate says nothin', but looks at him for a minute as if he'd see clean through him; and then he sings out to the crew 'loud enough to raise the dead: 'Reeve a rope to the yard; smart now!'

"Now, my lad, you see that 'ere rope? Well, I'll give you ten minutes to confess; and if you don't tell the truth afore the time's up, I'll hang you like a dog!'

"The crew all stared at one another as if they couldn't believe their ears (I didn't believe mine, I can tell ye), and then a low growl went among 'em, like a wild beast awakin' out of a nap.

""Silence there!' shouts the mate, in a voice like the roar of a nor'easter. 'Stan' by to run for'ard!' as he held the noose ready to put it round the boy's neck. The little fellow never flinched a bit; but there was some among the sailors (big strong chaps as could ha' felled an ox) as shook like leaves in the wind. I clutched hold o' a handspike, and held it behind my back, all ready.

""Tom,' whispers the chief engineer to me, 'd'ye think he really means to do it?'

"I don't know,' says I, through my teeth; 'but if he does, he shall go first, if I swings for it!'

"I've been in many an ugly scrape in my time, but I never felt 'arf as bad as I did then. Every minute seemed as long as a dozen; and the tick o' the mate's watch, reg'lar, pricked my ears like a pin.

"Eight minutes,' says the mate, his great, deep voice breakin' in upon the silence like the toll o' a funeral bell. 'If you've got anything to confess, my lad, you'd best out with it, for ye're time's nearly up.'

66

"I've told you the truth,' answers the boy, very pale, but as firm as ever. 'May I say my prayers, please?'

"The mate nodded; and down goes the poor little chap on his knees and put up his poor little hands to pray. I couldn't make out what he said, but I'll be bound God heard every word. Then he ups on his feet again, and puts his hands behind him, and says to the mate quite quietly: 'I'm ready.'

"And then, sir, the mate's hard, grim face broke up all to once, like I've seed the ice in the Baltic. He snatched up the boy in his arms, kissed him, and burst out a-cryin' like a child; and I think there warn't one of us as didn't do the same. I know I did for one.

"God bless you, my boy!' says he, smoothin' the child's hair

with his great hard hand. 'You're a true Englishman, every inch of you; you wouldn't tell a lie to save yer life! Well, if so be as yer father's cast yer off, I'll be yer father from this day forth; and if I ever forget you, then may God forget me!'

"And he kep' his word, too. When we got to Halifax, he found out the little un's aunt, and gev' her a lump o' money to make him comfortable; and now he goes to see the youngster every voyage, as reg'lar as can be; and to see the pair on 'em together the little chap so fond of him, and not bearin' him a bit o' grudge-it's 'bout as pretty a sight as ever I seed. And now, sir, yer parding, it's time for me to be goin' below; so I'll just wish yer good-night."

SAINT CRISPIAN'S DAY

BY SHAKESPEARE

King Henry. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland?-No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men the greater share of honor.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold;

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

It years me not if men my garments wear;

Such outward things dwell not in my desires;
But if it be a sin to covet honor

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor,
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us."

This day is called-the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tiptoe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian":
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars,
And say, "These wounds I had on Crispian's day."
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But he'll remember, with advantages,

What feats he did that day: then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,—
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd:
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon SAINT CRISPIAN'S DAY.

THE C'RRECT CARD

BY GEORGE R. SIMS

"C'rrect card, sir? C'rrect card, sir? What! you've seen my face before? Well I dare say as how you have, sir, and so have many more; but they passes me by without a word-but perhaps it's just as well; a poor crippled chap like me, sir, ain't fit company for a swell. But I've seen the time when they all was proud with me to be talking seen-when I rode for Lord Arthur

Forester, and wore the black and green. How did it happen? I'll tell you, sir. You knew little Fanny Flight-old Farmer Flight's one daughter-always so pretty and bright? You used to joke with her sometimes, sir, and say as, if you she'd marry, you'd set up a 'pub' together, an' pitch your folks to Old Harry. You was just down for the holidays, sir, from Oxford, where you were at school; but you only played at being in love, while I was a cursed fool! Well, there were lots of 'm after face; but I was in earnest, you 'Twas one fine April morning,

her, sir, what with her ways and see, sir, and rode a waiting race. when she came out to see us train, and just as she stood with her little hand holding on by my horse's mane, I felt as how I could do it, and came with a rush, you see, an' I said to her-all of a tremble, sir,-'Fan, will you marry me?' And she blushed an' smiled, an' whinnied, and after a bit she agreed that as soon as I found the money to pay for our keep and feed, why we'd run in harness together. We'd ha' made a tidyish pair; for I weren't a bad looking colt at the time, and she-such a nice little mare! Such a mouth! such a forehead! such action! Ah, well, let 'em say what they may, that's the sort to make running with us, sir, -tho, hang it! they never can stay.

"Well, the time went on, and I rode my best, an' they called me a 'cuteish' chap, and Lord Arthur put me up to ride for the Leicestershire Handicap. Lord Arthur, he was a gentleman-never was stingy or mean-an' he said, 'I'll give you five hundred, my man, if you win with the black and green.' Well, the horse I rode was Rasper; perhaps you remember him?-Black all but one white foot, sir; and a temper!-he'd pull like sin. But jump like a bird if he had a mind-plenty of power and pace—and I knew he had it in him, and I swore I'd win the race. The night before the race came off I went down to Farmer Flight's—they'd got to expect me regular now on Tuesday and Friday nights-and I told her what Lord Arthur said, and how, if I chanced to win, we'd go into double harness on the strength of his lordship's tin. An' she put my colors in her hair, and her arms around my neck, and I felt but, hang it! a chap's a fool as can't keep his feelings in check. But then, you sees, sir, I was a fool-a big one as ever was seen-but then I was only twenty