Elsie at the World's Fair

Everybody was ready for an early start the next morning and Harold and Herbert were waiting for them in the Peristyle. Some time was spent there and in the Court of Honor, then in the Midway Plaisance. Watching the crowds was very amusing—the wild people from Dahomey wearing American flags around their dusky thighs, the Turks, the Arabs, and men, women, and children of many other nations all in their peculiar costumes, so different from the dress of our own people.

Then the hundred thousand flags, very many of our own with their stripes and stars, and those of perhaps every other nation that has one to display—were flung to the breeze, while bands from Cincinnati and Iowa, from Vienna, Suabia, and Arabia had all got together and were playing Yankee Doodle.

There were besides many curious bands of Oriental musicians—some of them making great but futile efforts to play our national airs—producing sounds that were by no means delightsome to the American ear; not half so pleasing as the sight of the multi-colored flags decorating the huts and castles of foreign architecture.

It turned out to be a day of pleasant surprises. As they neared the end of the Plaisance they came suddenly and unexpectedly upon Chester and Frank Dinsmore and Will Croley, the old college mate of Harold and Herbert, whom none of them had seen since the summer spent together on the New England coast several years before.

All were delighted; cordial greetings on both sides were exchanged, and scarcely were these over when in a lady passing by Grandma Elsie recognized, with a little cry of joyous surprise, her old time friend and cousin, Annis Keith.

"Annis! oh, how glad I am to see you!" she exclaimed.

"Elsie! my dear, dearest cousin!" cried Annis in return, as they grasped each other's hands and looked with ardent affection each into the other's eyes. "Oh, how delightful to have come upon you so quickly! I was wondering if I could ever find you in all this crowd, and to have fairly stumbled upon you almost the first thing after leaving the cars is most fortunate."

"Yes; for us as well as you, Annis," Mr. Dinsmore said with a smile, offering his hand as he spoke. "Are you just from Pleasant Plains?"

"Yes, sir; we left there this morning, and but a moment since stepped off the train that brought us—nearly all the family of brothers and sisters with their children."

"Why, yes, to be sure, here are Mildred and the doctor and—well, really Charley,"—shaking hands with Mildred and her husband—"I will have to be introduced to all these younger folks."

There was quite a crowd of them—young, middle-aged, and elderly, for the families had been increasing in numbers, the younger ones growing in size, and all in years.

All wanted to be together for a time, the older ones to be able to talk freely of absent dear ones and other family matters, the younger to make acquaintance with each other.

"Suppose we take a car in the Ferris Wheel," suggested Harold Travilla; "we can then have a ride, a grand view of the Fair grounds, and a chat, all at one and the same time."

Everyone seemed to favor the proposition and without further discussion they all started in that direction.

Arriving at the place they climbed a broad stairway very much like the approach to an Elevated station.

"This way, ladies and gentleman," said a man in a blue coat, pointing to a doorway between two knotted beams, and they passed into a sunshiny room with two rows of chairs at each side. There were windows all about it barred with iron.

"This is one of the cars," remarked Captain Raymond, in answer to an enquiring look from Annis, and he and the other gentlemen of the party busied themselves in seeing the ladies comfortably seated, then took possession of chairs as near them as might be.

Other people were coming in, and in a very few moments the car was in motion, the click of a latch having told that they were locked in.

Some of our party who were trying the wheel for the first time looked a trifle pale and alarmed as the movement began, and one or two of the girls asked low and tremulously if it were certainly quite safe.

"Yes, I am entirely sure of that," replied Harold with his pleasant smile; "but don't look out of the windows just yet."

"You are not at all frightened, I see," said Chester Dinsmore in a low tone to Lulu, having contrived to secure a seat close at her side.

"Oh, no, indeed!" she returned. "This is my second trip and I hardly felt at all timid even the first time, because my father had assured us it was perfectly safe, and I have entire confidence in his opinion and his word."

"I don't know any man whose word or opinion I would be more ready to take," returned Chester, giving her a look that seemed to say he would be no less willing to take the captain's daughter, were the opportunity afforded him.

But Lucilla did not notice the look, for she was already gazing out of the window and thinking of nothing but the prospect from it.

"Oh, look, Chester!" she said eagerly, "This gives us such a grand view of the Plaisance. It is the second time our party have made this trip—no, not that—the second time we have been in these cars; we went round twice that day, and I hope will go at least as often to-day. Presently, when we get to the highest part the people down below will look like the merest black dots and the houses like toy ones."

"Yes," he returned, "it is a trip worth taking. I should not have liked to miss it."

"Nor should I," said Lucilla. "I think of asking papa to bring us here several times more."

"In that case I hope I may be permitted to be one of the party every time, for it is a fine sight indeed."

"Are you and Frank new arrivals?" she asked.

"Yes, we got into the city last evening. We would have hunted up your party at once, but did not know just where to look for you."

"We are making the yacht our home," she returned, "and it is anchored for the greater part of the time at no great distance from the Peristyle. We spend our nights on it, but so far our days have been passed in visiting different parts of the Fair."

"And you haven't seen everything in it yet?" he queried laughingly.

"No, indeed! I heard someone estimate the other day that it would take more than forty years to do that."

"And in a few months the vast majority of the sights will be withdrawn," he said with a half sigh; "so we will have to content ourselves with seeing a few of such things as interest us most. How long will you stay?"

"I don't know; that depends upon the decisions of the higher powers; in other words of the older people. How long do you?"

"Perhaps two or three weeks. It will depend probably upon how we enjoy ourselves."

"Then you will be likely to stay a good while, I think," she returned. "There! we are at the top of the wheel, and is not the view magnificent?"

They made the circuit a second time, then seeing that very many people were awaiting an opportunity to fill their places in the car, they vacated them and wandered elsewhere about the Fair grounds for a little.

Then Grandma Elsie expressed a desire to visit the building of her native State—Louisiana—and invited all in the party to go with her and dine there as her guests. All accepted the invitation with apparent pleasure and immediately turned their steps thitherward.

"Where is it?" someone asked, and Harold answered: "At the northern curve of the horseshoe formed by the State sites around the Fine Art Galleries and just west of the Missouri building. It is not a long walk."

"Ah," exclaimed Grandma Elsie when they caught sight of their destination, "see those trees in front laden with moss from our Southern bayous! The sight almost carries one back to the old days at Viamede."

"Yes; that and the foliage generally, which is of the tropical order," remarked her father in reply; "see, the cacti are conspicuous. And I like the simple style of the building with its galleries and verandas."

"And the site is a fine one," remarked the captain, "not far from the cable car entrance and fronting the Art Palace."

"Shall we dine first and then look at the exhibits?" asked Grandma Elsie. "I want to give you all a real Southern dinner, hoping it may prove agreeable to your palates."

"I presume we can stand it for once, mother dear," returned Herbert, and the rest of the party seemed equally willing.

They passed in and were presently regaling themselves with gumbo soup, opossum, and various other dishes peculiar to the part of the country represented by the building and its appurtenances, being served by cooks and waiters directly from the plantations of the river country.

Then, having satisfied their appetites, they spent some time in examining the relics on exhibit in the building.

One of these was a picture of the Madonna by Raphael. There was also an exhibition of carvings done by women, which excited both admiration and surprise, and in one of the rooms was some richly carved furniture from the State museum at Baton Rouge, which had once belonged to Governor Galvez.

They went next to the Florida building, which was a reproduction of old Fort Marion, whose foundations were laid in 1620, the year of the landing of the Pilgrims in Massachusetts.

The captain mentioned that fact, then asked: "Do you know, Grace, how long that fort was in building?"

"No, papa," she replied, "can you tell us?"

"It took one hundred and fifty years of toil by exiles, convicts, and slaves to construct the heavy walls, curtains, bastions, and towers of defence. Its bloodiest days were more than a century before our Civil War, in which it did not take a very prominent part."

"Where are the curtains, papa?" asked little Elsie. "I don't see any."

"It is the name given to that part of the rampart which connects the flanks of two bastions," replied her father.

"And it was here that the Apaches were imprisoned," remarked Walter.

"Yes," returned his mother, "and a most gloomy prison it must have proved to them, used as they were to the free life of the mountains, prairies, and forests."

Some little time longer was spent in viewing the tropical plants and trees that adorned the exterior of the fort, then they passed inside and examined the many beautiful things to be seen there.

Their next visit was to the headquarters of the State of Washington, where they were much interested in the display of her native woods and the rockery built of native ores, showing pure streaks of gold and silver, so illustrating the mineral wealth of the State.

"Where next?" asked Mr. Dinsmore as they passed out.

"Papa, I'm so tired," little Elsie was saying at the same moment, in a low aside to her father.

"I, too," added Ned, overhearing her. "Please can't we take a ride now?"

"Surely," said Grandpa Dinsmore, overhearing the request. "I invite you all to try an electric boat on the lagoon."

No one seemed disposed to decline the invitation; some time was spent on the water, then on the Intramural Railway. After that the whole party, at the invitation of Violet and the captain, went aboard the yacht, still lying in the lake at no great distance from the Peristyle, and partook of a supper which was no unpleasant contrast to the enjoyable dinner with which Grandma Elsie had provided them.

The little folks were ready for bed, on leaving the table; the older ones rested for a time on the Dolphin's deck, chatting together while enjoying the sunset, then they returned to the Court of Honor, to revel in its beauties as seen by the witchery of the electric light.

Morning found them all rested, refreshed, and eager to spend another day amid the beauties of the Fair. They started early, as on the previous day, found Harold and Herbert with the other young gentlemen friends waiting for them in the Peristyle, spent a little time enjoying its beauties and the never wearying view it afforded of the lake on the one side, and the Court of Honor on the other, then at the earnest solicitation of the little ones they again entered an electric launch and glided swiftly along the quiet waters of the lagoon.

"Let us go to the Transportation Building," proposed Rosie as they landed again. "I want to see that golden doorway, and have not the least objection to passing through it and examining things inside."

"As no one else has, I presume," said her grandfather. "No doubt we shall find a great deal there worthy of examination."

"Yes, sir; much more than we can attend to in one visit," replied Harold, leading the way, as everyone seemed well pleased to carry out Rosie's suggestion.

They had heard and read of the beautiful golden doorway and viewed it with interest and satisfaction.

"It is very, very beautiful," said Grandma Elsie, "a nest of arches covered with silver and gold."

"And that border is lovely, lovely!" exclaimed Rosie; "such delicate tracery!"

"Papa, is it solid gold?" asked little Elsie, who was clinging to her father's hand on one side, while Ned had fast hold of the other.

"No, daughter," the captain replied, "not solid, though there is a good deal of both gold and silver covering the other and cheaper materials." Then he called her attention to a relief on the left side of the arch, showing an ox-cart with its clumsy wheels dragging slowly along through heavy sand, the travellers in it looking most uncomfortable.

"That, children," he said, "is the way people used to travel years ago when I was a little fellow, such as you are now, Neddie boy; and this"—going to the other side of the arch and pointing to the contrasting relief—"shows how we travel now. See, it is a section of a palace-car; some of the people reading, others gazing from its plate-glass windows, and a porter serving them with luncheon."

"Yes, papa; that's the way we travel when we don't go in the Dolphin or in our carriage, and it's a great deal nicer than that ox-cart," said Elsie.

"Oh, papa, there are some words up there!" exclaimed Ned, pointing up to a higher part of the arch. "Please read them."

"I will, son," replied the captain, "though I think you are hardly old enough to fully understand them. This"—pointing it out—"was written by Macaulay, of whom you will learn more when you are older: 'Of all inventions, the alphabet and the printing-press alone excepted, those inventions which abridge distance have done the most for civilization.' This other is by Lord Bacon: 'There are three things which make a nation great and prosperous: a fertile soil, busy workshops, and easy conveyance for men and goods from place to place.' Those words are put upon this building because in it are shown the different modes of travel in different countries—on the sea also—at different times."

They stood for some little time longer examining into the details of that wondrously beautiful doorway, noticing the splendor of the arches and pylon, the stairway on each side, the roof of the pavilion and all the other beauties.

"It is very beautiful, and a great satisfaction to have seen it," remarked Mr. Dinsmore at length, "but perhaps it would be as well for us to go on into the inside of the building now, reserving further examination of this golden doorway for some future time."

With that he passed in, the others following.

Many of the exhibits there were more interesting to the older members of the party, especially the gentlemen, than to the ladies and younger people; locomotives and trains of cars such as were in use at different periods of time, showing the vast improvement in their construction since steam was first put to that use, models of vessels teaching the same lesson in regard to increased convenience and comfort of travel upon the water.

"Oh, there is the Victoria—that grandest of battleships, sunk only the other day in collision with her sister ship, the Camperdown!" exclaimed Herbert. "See what a crowd of men and women are gazing upon it!"

"Oh, yes," said Rosie, "I remember reading a description of it in the papers. One of England's finest battleships, was she not?"

"Yes," said Captain Raymond, drawing near and examining the model with interest; "she was a grand vessel, the pride of the British navy. I should like to have seen her and am glad to have the opportunity to examine even a model. Ah, what a sad accident it was! especially considering that it sent to the bottom of the sea her entire crew of nearly four hundred men and officers."

"Oh, it was dreadful, dreadful!" said Grace in tearful tones. "Especially because they had no time to think and prepare for death."

"Yes, that is the saddest part of all," sighed Grandma Elsie.

Our friends presently moved on, and all, from Grandpa Dinsmore down to little Ned, found many objects that interested them greatly. But the most attractive thing of all to the young folks—because of the story connected with it—was Grace Darling's boat. It was the captain who pointed it out to his children.

"Who was she, papa? and what did they put her boat here for?" asked little Elsie.

"She was the daughter of William Darling, the lighthouse keeper on Longstone, one of the Fame Islands."

"Where are they, papa?"

"In the North Sea, on the coast of Northumberland, the most northern county of England. They form, a group of seventeen islets and rocks, some of them so small and low-lying as to be covered with water and not visible except when the tide is low; and the passage between them is very dangerous in rough weather.

"Two of the islands have each a lighthouse, and it was in one of those that Grace Darling and her father lived.

"In 1838 a vessel called the Forfarshire was wrecked among those islands. William Darling, from his lighthouse, saw it lying broken on the rocks, and sixty-three persons on it in danger of drowning. His daughter Grace, a girl of twenty-two, begged him to go and try to rescue them. It was a very dangerous thing to attempt, but he did it, she going with him.

"Both father and daughter were very strong and skilful, and by exerting themselves to the utmost they succeeded in saving nine of the poor wrecked creatures who were crouching there on the rocks in momentary expectation of being washed off by the raging waves and drowned. They bore them safely to Longstone."

"And that made Grace Darling famous," remarked Lulu.

"Yes," said her father. "Many people, many of the great and wealthy, went to see the brave girl who had thus risked her own life to save others, and they heaped upon her money and valuable presents; so that she was no longer poor. But she did not live long to enjoy the good things bestowed upon her. She died of consumption about four years after her famous adventure."

"What a pity, papa! wasn't it?"

"For those who loved her, yes; but not for her, if she was ready for heaven. Do you think it was?"

"No, sir, 'cause it is the happy land where Jesus is, and nobody is ever sick or sorry or in pain. But I don't want to go there yet; I'd rather stay a good while longer here with you and mamma."

"I want you to, darling, if such be God's will," he returned low and tenderly, bending down to press a fatherly kiss on her round, rosy cheek. "Your father would hardly know how to do without his little Elsie."

She looked up into his face with shining eyes. "We love each other, don't we, papa?" she said with satisfaction. "Mamma too, and brothers and sisters, and grandma, and—oh, all the folks."

"Where now?" asked Grandma Elsie as they left the Transportation Building.

"I want to show you the German castle," answered Harold. "It is here on the Midway Plaisance, and is a reproduction of a castle of the middle centuries. It is viewed by most people who have read of moat-surrounded castles with great curiosity and interest."

"There is a German village connected with it, is there not?" she asked.

"There is, mamma, and I think you will all enjoy looking at both it and the castle."

"Oh, I am sure we shall if it is a faithful reproduction of the old castles of feudal times that we have read of!" exclaimed Rosie.

"It is said to be," returned Harold, "and is considered very curious and interesting."

"Is there a moat about it, Uncle Harold?" asked Grace.

"Yes; and a drawbridge and portcullis."

"Oh, what is that?" asked little Elsie.

"A framework of timbers crossing each other, pointed on the lower edge with iron and hung by chains in grooves in the chief gateway of the castle, so that on the sudden appearance of an enemy it could be let down to keep him out more quickly than the drawbridge could be raised to prevent his crossing the moat, or the gates shut."

"And what is a moat?"

"A ditch or canal. But you shall see one presently, and a portcullis also."

"Oh, I'm so glad we came here to the White City!" cried Elsie, skipping along by her father's side; "it's so lovely and there are so many curious things to see."

"Yes, it is a pleasant way of gaining knowledge; pleasanter than learning lessons and reciting them to papa; is it not, daughter?" asked the captain, smiling down into the bright little face.

"Yes, sir; but that's not a hard way, either, 'cause my papa is so kind, and loves me and makes the lessons easy."

They soon reached the castle, crossed the moat by the drawbridge, passed through the arched gateway, under the portcullis, the young folks, and indeed the older ones also, gazing at it with much curiosity, and entered a spacious hall, the walls of which were hung with bows and ancient weapons, and armor such as was worn by warriors of feudal times.

From the hall was an entrance to a museum, where were shown many articles interesting as having belonged to those old times when the homes of knights and barons were such castles as this.

When they had looked their fill at all these they left the castle for the village surrounding it, which consisted of reproductions of very old German houses with small porticos and sharp gables.

These covered three or four acres of ground and were built around a court, in the centre of which was a music stand where a band of twenty musicians, in white uniforms and military caps, were almost constantly playing upon their instruments, making such delightful music that crowds of people flocked to hear them.

Our friends enjoyed it greatly, and for a time did nothing but stay there and listen while watching the players and the crowd.

But the children began to show signs of weariness and the captain, Violet, Grandma Elsie, and several of the others rose and moved on with them into a cottage which stood in the back part of the grounds.

It was a picturesque-looking building and there were a number of Germans in and about it, many of them evidently sight-seers like our friends. It was furnished in truly German style, with quaint old-fashioned mantels, holding old pieces of bric-a-brac, and quaint dishes and cabinets hanging on the walls.

One room on the left as they entered seemed to be attracting particular attention, and they presently turned to it, paused an instant at the open door, then walked in, the captain and Violet with their two little ones leading the way.

The principal objects in the apartment were two wax figures, life size, representing a man and woman seated at a table apparently dining together.

Our party stood for a moment silently gazing, then Mr. Lilburn and Walter Travilla followed them into the room, though hardly seeming to belong to their party.

Catching sight of the figures at the table, Walter nudged the old gentleman, gave him a significant, laughing glance, then stepping forward addressed the waxen man in a serious tone as though he thought him a living person.

"Excuse me, sir, but I am a stranger here and would like to ask a little information in regard to what may be seen that is really worth looking at."

At that there was a general laugh among the other spectators, and an exchange of glances that seemed to say he must be either very blind or extremely simple.

Walter did not seem to notice, however, but went on: "Are the upper floors open to visitors, sir? and are there refreshments served there, or in any other part of the building?"

At that the laugh among the people in the room and about the doorway grew louder,—it seemed so good a joke that anyone should take those wax figures for living people—and a burly German, taking pity on Walter's stupidity, said; "Mine frient, dose vos vax beobles, ha, ha, ha! dey don't can't say nodings."

With that the laughter grew louder, and another German, evidently good-naturedly desirous to relieve Walter's embarrassment, spoke, turning as he did so to the first speaker:

"Dat vasn't no sign de young shentlemans vas dumb; he don't can't help it; he t'ot dey vas life beoples."

"Nefer you mine dose silly fellows, young shentleman, dey doan' know noddings."

The words seemed to come from the lips of the waxen man, and struck the crowd with astonishment. "I would tell you vat you vants to know," he added, "but I pees von stranger in dose barts mineself."

Then the woman seemed to speak: "Come to de dable, mine frient, and eat somedings mit us."

"Thank you, very much," returned Walter, "you are most kind and hospitable, but I cannot think of intruding upon your hospitality." And with a bow directed toward her and her spouse, he turned and left the room, the rest of his party following and leaving the little crowd of Germans gazing at each other and the waxen figures in wide-eyed, open-mouthed astonishment.

"Papa," complained little Ned as they left the German quarter, "I'm so tired and sleepy."

"Hungry, too, papa's boy, aren't you?" was the kindly enquiring rejoinder. "Well, papa will take you back to our floating home, and leave you there with your nurse to be fed and have a good, long nap. I think Elsie would like to go too. Wouldn't you, daughter?"

The little girl gave a glad assent, and arranging with his wife and older daughters where to meet them on his return, the captain set off with the two little ones for the Dolphin.

Captain Raymond was not gone very long, and on his return found the others sitting quietly listening to the music of the German band. But they were ready to go at his invitation and test the excellence of the fare to be obtained at the Woman's Building.

"There are cafés at each end of the roof covered with Oriental awnings," he said, "and surely we may expect as good fare at a woman's establishment as anywhere else."

"I think we certainly should," said Rosie in a sprightly tone; "and there must be a lovely view or views from that roof and the loggias."

"Doubtless," returned the captain, "and though we visited all the lower apartments of the building the other day, we did not go up to the roof; so that a visit to it will have for us the charm of novelty."

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie; "let us go by boat up the lagoon. Gracie looks as if she needed a rest from walking, and I confess I should not object to it myself."

The words had scarcely left her lips before Harold had signalled a boat, and the whole party was presently seated in it.

A short but delightful row brought them to the landing in front of the Woman's Building, and climbing the stone stairway that led up to the terrace, they passed through the triple-arched colonnade that led into the interior of the building, nor paused till they had reached one of the cafés, where they might rest and also satisfy their appetites with the good things abundantly provided.

Those important matters duly attended to, some minutes were given to the enjoyment of the fine views to be obtained from the loggias, and looking at the statues of Miss Rideout, representing Sacrifice, Charity, Virtue, and Wisdom. They then spent a short time over the exhibit in the lower part of the building; and there Captain Raymond and Lucilla met with a pleasant surprise in coming suddenly and unexpectedly upon Mr. Austin and his son Albert, the English gentleman whose acquaintance they had made in their visit to Minersville some years before.

The pleasure was evidently mutual; very hearty greetings were exchanged, then Captain Raymond introduced his accompanying friends, and Mr. Austin a daughter who was with him.

A few moments were spent in conversation, in the course of which an invitation was extended to the Austins to take supper upon the yacht that evening, and they parted for a time; the Austins having an engagement to meet some friends in the meanwhile in another part of the Fair.

"Shall we go now to the Electrical Building?" asked Captain Raymond, addressing his party, and receiving a hearty assent from all, he led the way.

They found much in the building to greatly interest them; great electric lenses used in lighthouses, the Edison electric column—covered with five thousand electric globes—and many other wonderful things; a beautiful scene in the daytime, but far more gorgeous at night, as they readily perceived that it would be; so they decided to pay a second visit after the lighting up that evening. Still their present visit was so prolonged that on leaving they found it time to return to the yacht. They met the Austins again at the Peristyle, and took them on board in the first boat load.

The guests were numerous, including all the cousins from Pleasant Plains, and the three young gentlemen friends—Chester and Frank Dinsmore and Will Croly. The meal to which they presently sat down, though Captain Raymond had called it supper, was an excellent dinner of several courses, and enlivened by pleasant chat, proved most enjoyable to the entire company.

At its conclusion they adjourned to the deck. A pleasant air was stirring, the sun drawing near his setting, the western sky glowing with brilliant hues, while the sounds of life on water and land came softly to the ear.

The young people formed one group, the older ones another, conversing among themselves, mostly in rather subdued tones.

"You have hardly been in America ever since I saw you last?" Lucilla said enquiringly, addressing Albert Austin.

"Oh, no; we went home shortly upon bidding you good-by after our brief acquaintance in Minersville," he replied; adding, "And I presume you had very nearly forgotten us?"

"No," she said; "we have spoken of you occasionally,—papa, Max, and I,—and I recognized your father the moment I saw him to-day; you also, though I am not sure that I should have done so had you been alone; for of course you have changed much more than he has."

"Not more than you have, Miss Raymond," he returned with a look of undisguised admiration; "yet I knew you instantly, though I saw you before I perceived that the captain made one of the company you were in."

"Indeed!" she said with a merry little laugh. "I am afraid I hoped I had grown and improved more than that would seem to imply."

"But you are still as proud as ever of being an American, and as proud of your Stripes and Stars?" he remarked enquiringly and with an amused smile.

"Yes, most emphatically, yes," she replied, lifting her eyes to the flag floating overhead, "I still think it the most beautiful banner ever flung to the breeze."

"And I suppose—from its constant display here, there, and everywhere—that that must be the idea of Americans in general," remarked Miss Austin in a slightly sneering tone. "I must say I have—naturally, I suppose,—a far greater admiration for England's flag, yet I should not want to see it so ostentatiously displayed on all occasions as yours is."

Lucilla colored, but was silent, fearing she might speak too warmly in defence of her favorite banner should she attempt a reply; but Chester took it up.

"Miss Austin must remember," he said, speaking in calm, polite tones, "that ours is a very large country, to which immigrants from other lands are constantly flocking; and they, as well as the ignorant among ourselves, need to have constantly kept before them the fact that we, though spread over so many States, form but one nation; for otherwise our Union could not be maintained; we must continually impress upon all our people that this one glorious nation is never to be separated into parts; and the flag is the emblem of our Union; a symbol that is unmistakable; and so it is displayed as the chief glory of our nation; and therefore we love it and cannot see too much of it."

Even as he spoke the sun neared the horizon, all on the Dolphin's deck rose to their feet, and as he sank out of sight, the firing of a gun from the Illinois announcing the fact, saluted the flag as, at the same moment, it came fluttering down from its lofty perch.

"Thank you, for your explanation, Mr. Dinsmore," Miss Austin said pleasantly, as they resumed their seats; "it has given me an entirely new view of the matter, so that I now think you Americans are quite right in your devotion to your flag, and your constant display of it. And this Fair," she went on, "is wonderful—the White City a perfect fairyland; especially at night, with its blaze of electrical lights and its many colored electric fountains."

"So we all think," said Harold Travilla. "Have you been in the Electric Building yet?"

"Not yet," she replied, and her brother added: "But we intend going. The evening is the best time for a sight of its wonders, I presume?"

"Yes; we have planned to go to-night, and would be glad to have you accompany us."

The invitation, overheard by the older people and cordially endorsed by the captain, was promptly accepted by the three Austins, and as the shades of evening began to fall, all but the little ones, already in their nests, returned to the shore and were presently in the Electrical Building, enjoying to the full its magical splendor.

Croly was devoting himself to Rosie Travilla, Frank Dinsmore endeavoring to make himself useful and entertaining to Grace Raymond and Evelyn Leland, while his brother and Percy Landreth, Jr., vied with each other and Albert Austin in attentions to Lucilla, leaving Miss Austin to the charge of Harold and Herbert, who were careful to make sure that she should have no cause to feel herself neglected.

They spent some time in viewing the marvels of the Electric Building, finding the lights giving it a truly magical splendor not perceptible by day. It seemed full of enchantment, a veritable hall of marvels; they were delighted and fascinated with the glories of the displays, and lingered there longer than they had intended.

On passing out, the party broke up, the Austins bidding good-by and going in one direction, Croly carrying off Rosie in another, the Pleasant Plains people vanishing in still another.

"Will you take a boat ride with me, Lucilla?" asked Chester in a rather low aside.

"If the rest are going," she returned laughingly. "I'm such a baby that I cling to my father and don't want to go anywhere without him."

"You mean the captain does not allow it?" Chester said enquiringly, and with a look of slight vexation.

"Oh," she laughed, "I'm not apt to ask for what I don't want, and I never want to be without papa's companionship."

"Humph! I had really labored under the delusion that you were grown up."

"Does that mean, ready to dispense with my father's society? In that case I don't mean ever to be grown up," she returned with spirit.

"Well, really!" laughed Chester, "if I am not mistaken, my sisters considered themselves about grown up, and altogether their own mistresses when they were no older than you are now; though, to be sure, I don't profess to know your age exactly."

"You may look at the record in the family Bible the next time you visit Woodburn, if you care to," Lucilla said, with a careless little toss of her head. "Yon will find the date of my birth there in papa's handwriting, from which your knowledge of arithmetic will enable you to compute my present age."

"Thank you," he said, laughing, but with a look of slight embarrassment, "I am entirely satisfied with the amount of knowledge I already possess on that subject."

"Ah, what subject is that upon which you are so well informed, Chester?" queried Captain Raymond pleasantly, overhearing the last remark, and turning toward the young couple.

"Your daughter's age, sir. I invited her to take a ride with me upon the lagoon, in one of those electrical launches; but find she is but a young thing and cannot leave her father."

"Ah?" laughed the captain, "then suppose we all go together."

"Willingly, sir, if that will suit her better," answered Chester, turning enquiringly to Lucilla.

"I think nothing could be pleasanter," she said, and the others being of like opinion, they were presently gliding over the waters of the lagoon intensely enjoying the swift easy movement and the fairylike scenes through which they were passing.

It was late when at last all the Dolphin's passengers were gathered in. The party to which the Raymonds belonged were the first, the young men who had accompanied them in the electric launch bidding good-night at the Peristyle, and all had retired to their respective state-rooms before the coming of the others; all except the captain, who was pacing the deck while awaiting their arrival.

His thoughts seemed not altogether agreeable, for he walked with drooping head and downcast eyes and sighed rather heavily once or twice.

"Papa dear, what is the matter? Oh, have I done anything to vex or trouble you?" asked Lucilla's voice close at his side.

"Why, daughter, are you there?" he exclaimed, turning toward her with a fatherly smile, then taking her hand and drawing her into his arms, stroking her hair, patting her cheeks, and pressing a fond kiss upon her lips. "No, I have no fault to find with my eldest daughter, and yet——" He paused, gazing searchingly and somewhat sadly into the bright young face.

"Oh, papa, what is it?" she asked, putting her arms about his neck and gazing with ardent affection and questioning anxiety up into his eyes. "You looked at me so strangely two or three times to-night, and I so feared you were displeased with me that I could not go to my bed without first coming to ask you about it, and get a kiss of forgiveness if I have displeased you in any way."

"No, daughter, you have not displeased me, but—your father is so selfish," he sighed, "that he can scarce brook the thought that someone else may some day oust him from the first place in his dear child's heart."

"Oh, papa!" she exclaimed in half reproachful tones, "how can you be troubled with any such idea as that? don't you know that I love you ten thousand times better than anybody else in the whole wide world? I just love to belong to you, and I always shall," she added, laying her head on his breast and gazing with ardent affection up into his eyes. "Besides, I am only a little girl yet, as you've told me over and over again, and must not think about beaux and lovers for at least five or six years to come; and I'm sure I don't want to think of them at all so long as I have my own dear father to love and care for me."

"That is right," he said, holding her close; "I think I can say with truth that I love my dear daughter much too well ever to intentionally stand in the way of her happiness, but I feel sure that the best place for her, for the next six or eight years at least, will be in her father's house, trusting in his love and care."

"I haven't a doubt of it, father," she said, lifting loving, laughing eyes to his, "and really I don't believe Chester or anybody else cares half so much about me as you do, or wants to get me away from you. I like right well to laugh and talk with him and the others just as I do with the girls, but I'm, oh, so glad I belong to you, and will for years to come, if not always. Yes, I do hope it will be always, while we both live. And Gracie feels just the same. We had a little talk about it not very long ago, and agreed that we could not bear to think the time would ever come when we would have to leave our dear father, and the sweet home he has made for us, to live with anybody else in the loveliest that could be imagined."

"That pleases me well," he said, his eyes shining; "Gracie is no less dear to me than you are, and so frail that I should be far from willing to resign the care of her to another. But now, dear child, it is high time you were resting in your bed; so give me another good-night kiss and go at once."

"I will, papa, and are not you going too? for I am sure you must be needing rest as well as I."

"Presently," he replied, glancing toward the pier. "I have been waiting to see the last of our party on board, and here they come."

Lucilla went to her bed a very happy girl, her heart full of love to her father and singing for joy in the thought of his love for her. She had a long dreamless sleep, but woke at her usual early hour and, when morning duties had been attended to, went noiselessly up to the deck where, as she had expected, the captain had preceded her by a moment or more. She ran to him to claim the usual morning caress.

"You look bright and well, dear child," he said, holding her close for a moment, then a little further off to gaze searchingly into the smiling, happy face.

"As I feel, father," she said, laying her head against his breast. "I went to sleep last night thinking of all you had been saying to me and feeling so glad of your dear love and that you want to keep me all your own for ever so long." Then she added, with an arch look up into his face, "Don't you think, papa, it will be best for you to have me under eye all the time wherever we go?"

"I am not afraid to trust you, my darling," he answered with a smile, "but of course I want you near me that I may take the very best care of you always and all the time."

"Well, then, I'll get and keep just as close to you as I can," she answered with a merry look and smile. "But, papa——"

"Well, daughter, what is it?" he asked, as she paused and hesitated, as if fearful that he might be displeased with what she was about to say.

"I was just thinking,—please don't be vexed with me,—but wasn't Mamma Vi only nineteen when you married her?"

"Yes," he said, with a slight smile, "but circumstances alter cases, and I have changed my views somewhat since then."

"Yes," she said, reflectively; "she had no father, and it was you she married, you who know so well how to take care of both her and your daughters."

At that her father merely smiled again and patted her cheek, saying. "I am glad you are so well content with my guardianship."

He did not think it necessary to tell her of a talk with Violet the night before, in which he had expressed his determination to keep his daughters single for some years to come,—certainly not less than five or six,—and his fear that Chester and one or two others had already begun to perceive their charms, and might succeed all too soon in winning their affections; in reply to which Violet had, with a very mirthful look, reminded him how young she herself was at the time of their marriage, and that he did not seem to think it at all necessary to wait for her to grow older.

In answer to that he had laughingly insisted that she was far more mature than his daughters bid fair to be at the same age; adding that besides he certainly ought to have gained something in wisdom in the years which had passed since their marriage.

"Ah," said Violet giving him a look of ardent affection, "after all I am glad you had not attained to all that wisdom some years earlier, my dear husband, for my life with you has been such a happy, happy one. Your dear love is my greatest earthly treasure, our little son and daughter scarcely less a joy of heart to me."

"To me also," he said, drawing her into his arms and giving her tenderest caresses, "yet not quite so dear as their mother; for you, my love, have the very first place in my heart."

"And you in mine," she returned, her eyes dewy with happy tears; "and I love your daughters dearly, dearly; I could hardly bear to part with them, and I am glad to perceive that they, as yet, care nothing for beaux, but are devoted to their father and happy in his love."

"Yes, I think they are, and fondly hope they will continue to be, for a number of years to come," was his pleased response. "I have no doubt they will," said Violet, and there the conversation ended.

"More than content, papa; for as I have often said, I just delight in belonging to you," was Lucilla's glad response to his last remark in that morning talk.

"Yes, I know you do, and so we are a very happy father and daughter," he said. "I often think no man was ever more blest in his children than I am in mine."

The talk about the breakfast table that morning was of the places it might be most desirable to visit that day, and the final conclusion that they would go first to the battleship Illinois, then to the lighthouse and life-saving station, both near at hand.

"I am glad we are going aboard a battleship—or rather the model of one, I presume I should say, and especially in company with a naval officer who can explain everything to us," remarked Rosie in a lively tone.

"Yes, we are very fortunate in that," said Mrs. Dinsmore, giving Captain Raymond an appreciative look and smile.

"Papa, didn't you say she wasn't a real ship?" asked little Elsie, looking up enquiringly into her father's face.

"Yes, my child, but in all you could perceive in going aboard of her she is exactly like one—a fac-simile of the coast-line battleship Illinois, which is a very powerful vessel."

"And are her guns real, papa? Mightn't they go off and shoot us?"

"No, daughter, there is no danger of that. The largest ones are wooden models, and though quite a number are real and capable of doing terrible execution, there is not the slightest danger of their being used on us."

"I'm not one bit afraid of them!" cried little Ned, straightening himself up with a very brave, defiant air. "Not with papa along, anyhow."

"No, you needn't be, Ned," laughed Walter, "for most assuredly nobody would dare to shoot Captain Raymond or anybody under his care."

"No, indeed, I should think not," chuckled the little fellow, with a proudly affectionate look up into his father's face.

"No, nor any other visitor to the ship," said the captain. "We may go there without feeling the least apprehension of such a reception."

"So we will start for the Illinois as soon as we are ready for the day's pleasures," said Violet, smiling into the bright little face of her boy.

Harold and Herbert joined them at the usual early hour, bringing Chester and Frank Dinsmore with them, and in a few minutes they were all upon the deck of the model battleship.

They were treated very politely and shown every department from sleeping quarters to gun-deck. They were told that she was steel armor-plated below the berth-deck, and were shown that above the decks were steel turrets, through portholes of which deep-mouthed wooden guns projected. Also that she was fully manned and officered with a crew of two hundred men, who gave daily drills and performed all the duties required of them when in actual service on the high seas.

From the battleship they went to the lighthouse and life-saving station.

On the plaza in front of the Government Building was the camp of the life-saving corps. It was neat and pretty, and close beside it was the model of a government lighthouse. Some of our party went to the top of that, and all of them viewed the paraphernalia used in the saving of life when a vessel is wrecked within sight of the shore. Some of them had already seen it on the Eastern shore, but were sufficiently interested to care to look at it again, while to the others it was altogether new, as was the drill through which the company of life guards were presently put, for both the benefit to themselves of the practice, and the edification of visitors.

That over Grandma Elsie asked, "Shall we not, now we are here, go into the Government Building and look at the military exhibit?"

"I should like to do so," said Mr. Dinsmore. "In what part of the building is it, Harold?"

"The southeastern, sir. I have been in once, and found many things well worth looking at more than once."

Harold led the way as he spoke, the others following.

The first department they entered contained exhibits of metal work, gun and cartridge-making machines, campaign materials, and battleflags.

All were interesting to the gentlemen, and to some of the ladies also, but to the others and the children the battleflags were far more so than anything else. It was the greatest collection ever seen outside of a government museum; for they were mementoes of all the wars our country has passed through since the settlement of Jamestown, Va.

There were also mountain howitzers mounted on mules, forage wagons, propeller torpedoes, and every kind of camp appliance, garrison equipage, pack saddles, etc. Famous relics, too, such as a beautifully carved bronze cannon captured from the British at Yorktown in 1781, and a great gun called "Long Tom," with which the privateer General Armstrong repelled a British squadron off the shores of the Azores in 1814, and many other souvenirs of American history.

"'Long Tom,'" repeated little Elsie, gazing curiously at the great gun, about which some remark had been made a moment before, "I s'pose there's a story to it. I wish somebody would tell it to Neddie and me."

"You shall hear it one of these times," said her father, "but not here and now;" and with that she was content, for papa's promises were sure to be kept.

"Don't refrain on my account from telling it here and now, captain," said Cousin Ronald with a humorous look and smile. "I'm not so patriotic as to endorse wrong-doing even on the part of Britons."

"We are all sure of that, sir," returned the captain, "but this time and place are not the most favorable for the telling of a story of that length."

"And grandma will sit down somewhere with the children presently for a rest, in some quiet place, and tell them the story of the gun should they wish to hear it," said Mrs. Travilla; and with that promise the children seemed well content.

By the middle of the afternoon Grandma Elsie, Grace, and the little ones were all weary enough to be glad to return to the Dolphin for a rest.

After a refreshing nap Grace and the children gathered about Mrs. Travilla and begged for the fulfilment of her promise to tell the story of "Long Tom," and she kindly complied.

"The General Armstrong was a privateer, and the fight I am now going to tell about was one of the most famous of the war of 1812-14," she said. "The vessel was commanded by Captain Samuel C. Reid, a native of Connecticut. He went to sea when only eleven years old and was a midshipman with Commodore Truxton. He was still a young man—only thirty—when the event of which we are talking occurred. That was on the 26th of September, 1814, in the harbor of Fayal, one of the Azores islands belonging to Portugal.

"While lying there at anchor the Armstrong was attacked by a large British squadron. That was in flagrant violation of the laws of neutrality. Commodore Lloyd was the commander of the squadron. At eight o'clock in the evening he sent four large well-armed launches, each manned by about forty men, to attack the American vessel.

"The moon shone brightly, and Captain Reid, who had noticed the movements of the British and suspecting that their design was to attack him, was getting his vessel under the guns of the castle. Those guns and his own opened fire at almost the same instant and drove off the launches with heavy loss."

"That means a great many men killed, grandma?" queried little Elsie.

"Yes, dear, a great many of the British; on our side there was one man killed, and a lieutenant was wounded. But that was not the end of the affair. At midnight another attack was made with fourteen launches and about five hundred men.

"A terrible fight ensued, but at length the British were driven off with a hundred and twenty killed and one hundred and eighty wounded."

"That was a great many," commented the little girl. "Did they give it up then, grandma?"

"No; at daybreak one of the British vessels, the Carnation, made another attempt. She began with a heavy fire, but the gunners of the Armstrong fired shots at her so rapidly and so well directed that she was soon so badly cut up that she hastened to get out of their range.

"In all this fighting the British had lost over three hundred in killed and wounded, while only two Americans were killed and seven wounded. But the Armstrong was a good deal damaged and Captain Reid saw that he could not stand another fight such as she had just gone through, so he directed her to be scuttled to prevent her from falling into the hands of the enemy."

"Scuttled? What's that, grandma?" asked little Ned.

"Making holes in the bottom or sides of a vessel, so that the water can get in and sink her, is called scuttling. It was done to prevent the British from taking possession of her. After our men had left her, however, they boarded, and set her on fire."

"Grandma Elsie," said Grace, "I think I remember reading that that victory of Reid's—or perhaps I should say successful resistance—had much to do with the saving of New Orleans."

"Yes; that British squadron was on its way to Jamaica, where the British vessels were gathering for the expedition to move against and take New Orleans, and their object in attacking the Armstrong was to secure her for themselves and make her useful in that work. Had they succeeded in taking her they would have reached New Orleans while it was utterly defenceless, General Jackson having not yet arrived there. But Reid, in his splendid defence of his vessel, so crippled those of the enemy that they did not reach Jamaica until fully ten days later than the time when the expedition was expected to sail from there; Lloyd was waited for and the expedition thus delayed until Jackson had reached the city and was making haste with arrangements for its defence."

"Yes, grandma, I've heard the story about that," said little Elsie; "how the British tried to take that city and General Jackson and his soldiers killed so very many of them, and drove the rest away."

Neddie was looking very grave and thoughtful. "Isn't it wicked to kill folks, grandma?" he asked.

"Yes, dear, unless it is necessary to prevent them from killing or badly injuring us or someone else. The British were terribly abusing our poor sailors and it was right for our government to fight them, because they would not stop it until they were forced to do so."

"But you haven't told about 'Long Tom' yet, grandma," said Elsie; "that big gun, you know, that we saw to-day."

"Yes; it was one of those on the Armstrong with which Captain Reid defended his ship."

"Weren't the Americans glad when they heard about it, grandma? and didn't they praise Captain Reid?"

"Indeed they did! and also made him many handsome presents. The State of New York thanked him and gave him a sword."

"Hadn't he afterward something to do with a change in our flag, Grandma Elsie?" asked Grace.

"Yes; our flag at first bore thirteen stars and thirteen stripes, and as new States were admitted another star and stripe were added for each one. But it was soon found that that was making the flag very large unless the stripes became narrower and narrower, while there was nothing to show what had been the original number of States. Captain Reid suggested the plan of retaining the thirteen stripes to indicate that, and the adding of a new star every time a new State was admitted, and Congress adopted that plan. He was certainly a talented man. He invented and erected the signal telegraphs at the Battery and the Narrows."

"I'm proud of him, Grandma Elsie!" said Grace, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. "His defence at Fayal against such overwhelming numbers was wonderful. And so was Jackson's at New Orleans. England was a great and powerful nation while ours was but small and weak, but we were in the right—fighting against dreadful wrongs done to our sailors—and God helped us to drive away our haughty, powerful foe, and deliver our brave tars from her unendurable oppression."

"Yes, dear; and to Him let us ever give all the glory and the praise. Oh, may our nation always serve God and trust in him! then no foe shall ever prevail against her."

"I hope we do, grandma," said little Elsie, "for on a quarter papa gave me the other day, I saw the words, 'In God we trust.'"

"Oh!" cried Ned at that moment, "the folks are coming! I see them there on the Peristyle—papa and mamma, Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore, Lu and the others."

"Yes, and the boat is waiting for them," added Elsie "and see, they are getting in."

"Oh, I am so glad," said Grace, "though they are earlier than usual."

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "I suppose because it is Saturday evening and we are all so tired with going and sight-seeing that we need to get early to bed and rest that we may not be too weary to enjoy the coming Sabbath day."

"I 'spect so," said Ned, and running forward as his father and the others stepped upon the deck, "Papa," he asked, "did you come home soon to get ready to keep Sunday?"

"Yes," was the reply; "we all need a good rest that we may be able to enjoy God's holy day and spend it in his service."

"Where have you been since we left you, Lu?" asked Grace, as her sister took a seat by her side.

"Papa took us to look at the Krupp gun," was the reply. "It is a wonderful one; weighs two hundred and forty-eight thousand pounds; just think! one hundred and twenty-four tons! It was certainly a great undertaking to bring it all the way from Essen, Germany, to Chicago. They told us that at Hamburg and at Baltimore great cranes were used, one of which could lift a sixty-five ton locomotive, to lift the gun to the trucks that were to carry it on the railroad; they had to put eight trucks under it, fastening two together, then the two pair together, and so on till they had the eight all well fastened to each other, when they laid the gun on them and started it off.

"And only think, Gracie, it takes half a ton of powder and costs one thousand two hundred and fifty dollars to fire that great gun once. We saw the steel plate, sixteen inches thick, through which a twelve-inch shot had been fired. It had cracked the plate and thrown the upper corner half a yard away. I forgot to say the projectile fired from that gun weighs a ton, and goes sixteen miles."

"Oh," cried Grace, "that's just dreadful! I hope there will never be a war where such terrible guns will be used—never any more at all; but that very soon, as the Bible says, the people 'shall beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.'"

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, overhearing her, "that will be a blessed time."

"Yes, indeed!" said Lucilla.

"Where else did you go?" asked Grace.

"Oh, we have been promenading along the lake shore, sitting down now and then on the seats to watch the many boats of various sorts and sizes, our own among the rest; and now, here we are to stay for the night, I suppose. I must, at least, for papa has said so."

She looked smilingly up into his face as she spoke, for he was now standing by her side.

"I think that will be best for each of my children, and hope that my dear eldest daughter does not feel at all rebellious in regard to the matter," he said in his pleasant, fatherly way.

"No, indeed, papa!" she responded heartily, "though the beautiful Court of Honor is so fascinating—especially at night—that if you had given me permission to go back there after tea I should have been very glad to do so."

"And I should take pleasure in allowing you that gratification if I thought it best and right."

"I don't doubt that in the least, papa, and I am very glad to have you to decide all such questions for me," she replied.

"Will we go over there, to the Court of Honor, to-morrow, papa?" asked little Elsie.

"No, daughter, we must keep the Sabbath day holy, and if we go anywhere it will be to church."

"And if we don't, we'll have a meeting here on our own deck as we have on some other Sundays; won't we, papa?"

"Yes; and the Lord Jesus will be with us; for he has said, 'Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.'"

"Oh, papa, I shall like to think of that—that the dear Lord Jesus is here with us—but I do wish I could see him."

"I too," said little Ned. "Please, papa, sit down now and let your baby boy sit on your knee a little while. You have been gone so long away from me."

"So long, papa's dear boy!" the captain repeated with a smile of fatherly affection into the bright, coaxing little face, then seating himself, he took the little fellow in his arms, and petted and caressed him to his heart's content. "Papa missed his dear little boy," he said, "but hoped he was having a good time here with dear grandma."

"Yes, papa, so I was. Grandma's ever so nice, but I want my papa and mamma, too."

"That's right, darling! mamma and papa would never know how to do without their dear baby boy," Violet said, adding her caresses to those of his father, the captain having taken a seat close at her side.

"Nor me either, mamma?" asked Elsie, drawing near, putting one hand into that of her mother and laying the other on her father's knee, her look and tones a trifle wistful, as if she were half fearful that she was less highly appreciated than her brother.

"No, indeed, dear child!" they replied, speaking together, "we love you just the same."

"Gracie also," the captain added, turning toward her with a tenderly appreciative smile. "You were looking very weary, daughter, when you left us some hours ago. Are you feeling better now?

"Yes, thank you, papa," she replied with a sweet, glad smile. "How kindly careful of me you always are!"

"Yes," he returned, "one is apt to be careful of his choicest treasures."

"It is so delightful to be one of your treasures, you dear papa," she said, going to his side in response to an inviting gesture, as Neddie got down from his knee to run to the side of the vessel to look at a passing boat.

"And so delightful to have you for one," he said, drawing her to the seat Neddie had vacated. "Papa feels that he must be very careful to see that the strength and endurance of his feeble little girl are not overtaxed."

"Mamma too," said Violet. "Dear child, I hope the rest of to-night, to-morrow, and the following night may entirely relieve your fatigue."

"Thank you, mamma, I hope and believe that it will," responded Grace in cheerful tones. "We will go to church to-morrow, I suppose, papa?" turning enquiringly to him.

"Those of us who feel able and wish to," he replied. "I intend moving on up the lake to Chicago when you have all retired to your state-rooms, and to lie at anchor there until the Sabbath is past. We will have our Bible lesson as usual in the afternoon, and service on board in the evening."

"I am glad of that, papa," said Grace, "for I always greatly enjoy a Bible lesson with you for my teacher."