CHAPTER XXVI

*

*Old Friends and New Prospects*

Compulsory Leave--Andrew B. Charteris--Looking Ahead--The Busy Bee--Smuggling Ah-Sam--Schwab Proposes--A Blessing

Kobo was buried in a glade among the trees near the fort. Bob placed over the grave a stone from the ravine--a flat slab washed smooth and white by the torrent; and upon this Taru scratched a simple inscription in Japanese characters. The chief meanwhile had sent men to find the body of Chang-Wo. What indignities the already mangled corpse might have suffered but for Bob's presence need not be told; Bob insisted on a decent burial, and made the chief promise that the grave should not be desecrated. The dead man's effects were thoroughly examined, and a discovery was made which threw light on a matter always puzzling to Bob--the presence of Chang-Wo in Tokio. Among his belongings were many papers, charts, and maps of Japan and the surrounding seas, plans of the Japanese ports, memoranda of military details--all probably intended for Russian use in an invasion of the islands, and kept by the Manchu until he could depend on getting a good price for them. These Bob made into a bundle; then he prepared to return with Taru and Ah-Sam to the Japanese head-quarters.

A few days later the services of one of the army doctors with General Kuroki's force were required for a young Englishman who had just been brought into camp by four coolies, led by a Japanese and a Chinaman. Sunstroke had laid Bob low on the day after leaving the fort. The unusual exertions which he had undergone since his adventure with the Cossacks had tried his constitution more than he was aware, and the final excitement and strain of Kobo's rescue had left him too weak to withstand the effect of the sudden heat. He was unconscious when he reached General Kuroki's quarters, and the doctor who examined him looked grave.

It was some days before he came fully to himself, and then the doctor, though he foretold a complete recovery, declared that it would be a matter of time and rest, and emphatically forbade Bob to think of active service for months to come.

"But I must get back to the fleet," protested Bob. "I'm a kind of deserter, and though I couldn't help being captured, and everything else has followed from that, I sha'n't be able to help feeling guilty when I report myself to Admiral Togo."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. We're a long way from the coast; in any case we can't spare a cruiser to carry you to Port Arthur; and if we could, I shouldn't allow you to go."

"What's to become of me, then? I can't follow the army; and I'm sure I don't want to be left behind in a Manchurian village."

The doctor's reply was interrupted by the entrance of General Kuroki himself. After greeting Bob, the general took the doctor aside, and for some minutes the two were engaged in conversation. They spoke in Japanese, and Bob, with the impatience of an invalid, felt annoyed at being the subject of a discussion which he could not follow. At length General Kuroki turned to him and said:

"I hear you want to rejoin the fleet, Mr. Fawcett. That is an entirely creditable wish; but the doctor is quite right, you must not think of it. You need not be disturbed about your quarters, however; we shall not leave you to the tender mercies of the Manchus. I'm going to send you to Yokohama. Stay," he added, as Bob began to protest, "it is quite fixed; you will be escorted to Chemulpo as soon as the doctor gives permission. For my part, I shall be glad to be rid of you." The general smiled. "Don't take that personally; I have had the pleasure of sending a report to the illustrious Emperor detailing the services you have rendered us since you left the fleet, and your adventurous expedition for the rescue of Kobo San. You have good friends, sir. Ever since you started on your quest I have been pestered by telegrams from a lady, first from Seoul, then from Yokohama--a Mrs. Pottle, who has been most energetic in enquiring after your welfare. Mrs. Pottle has given me more trouble than all the press correspondents together, and that is saying a good deal. I wired to the lady when you were brought in, telling her of your illness, and hoped that I should hear no more from her. But her telegram has now become a daily event, and only this morning she wired: 'Send him right along, I will nurse him like a mother'. So you see, Mr. Fawcett, that in getting rid of you I get rid, as I hope, of Mrs. Pottle."

For all his disappointment, Bob could not help smiling.

"She is a most determined woman," he said; "quite capable of leading your army, sir, with her umbrella. Well, I'm in your hands, general; it's very kind of you to be bothered with me at all. I only wish I had a chance of doing something; but I suppose that when I am quite well again the war will be over."

"I hope so," said the general gravely. "We have hard work before us; many good lives will be lost; but we shall persevere, and who knows--?"

Bob was welcomed by Mrs. Pottle at Yokohama literally with open arms. He had never been so much fussed over in his life as he was during the next few days. His health had improved with the voyage; but he was still only the shadow of his former self, and Mrs. Pottle showed that she had undertaken in all earnestness the duties of nurse. Bob found her energy rather trying, but he endured her ministrations with patience, for they were alleviated by the presence of Ethel Charteris, whose enthusiasm was displayed in a quieter and more winning manner. Mrs. Pottle was by no means short-sighted, and after a time she began to leave Bob more and more in her niece's hands, much to his contentment.

One day she returned from her usual morning expedition through the town accompanied by a stranger--a tall grizzled gentleman, sparse, keen, yet bearing an undefinable resemblance to the lady. Ethel was seated at Bob's side on the veranda of the hotel when she saw the two figures approaching.

"Good gracious! It's poppa!" she exclaimed, and fled to meet him.

Mrs. Pottle came up first, rustling in Japanese silk under a chrysanthemum parasol.

"See what you're responsible for!" she exclaimed. "Here's my brother, Andrew B. Charteris, come right out to fetch us. Says he couldn't make head or tale of our letters, and couldn't size up the attractions of Yokohama, and so he's left his business in a critical situation to see what his sister and daughter are doing. I hope you and Andrew will get along, Mr. Fawcett. He's a silent man, but a real good hand at taking stock of things. Here he is."

Mr. Andrew B. Charteris came up with Ethel clinging to his arm. The introductions were made.

"Heard a lot about you, sir," said Mr. Charteris. "Real glad to meet you in the flesh."

"There, Andrew, you don't mean anything; but if you had known Mr. Fawcett before, you wouldn't have said just that. Poor boy! he's little enough flesh on his bones now."

"H'm! Nature has wonderful recuperative powers," said Mr. Charteris, who after this profound remark walked on into the hotel with his daughter.

A week passed--a time of quiet enjoyment to Bob, who had still more of Ethel's company now that Mrs. Pottle had her brother to pilot round, as she put it. There was only one drawback to his happiness. One day he was surprised by a visit from a high court functionary, who had come to command his attendance at the palace in Tokio at a certain hour next day. Bob made a wry face when the functionary was gone. He guessed that this unexpected honour was due to General Kuroki's report to the Mikado, and was sufficiently boyish yet to hate all fuss, as he told Ethel.

"I think you are quite wrong," she replied. "You have done splendidly, and it is only right that the Mikado should thank you himself. Why, I know young men in San Francisco who'd give their eyes to be invited to see a real live emperor."

He went to Tokio, and certainly did not look unhappy when he returned. Mrs. Pottle bombarded him with questions about what had happened.

"Oh, it was all right," said Bob. "He's a very good sort; so's the Empress. It wasn't the formal affair I expected. They had me in their private apartments and gave me some tea, and the Emperor said uncommonly nice things, and presented me with--this."

He held up a ribbon with a gold ornament attached.

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Pottle, "what's that?"

"It's the insignia of the order of the Sacred Treasure."

"Mysakes! Only think of that! Well, I'll say this; it's no more than you deserve. There!"

"I'm so glad," said Ethel.

"What's it worth in cash?" drawled Mr. Charteris.

"Oh, poppa, you unromantic, practical, shocking old man! The idea! It's perfectly priceless. Mr. Fawcett wouldn't part with it for anything, I'm sure."

"I sha'n't tempt him. I don't cotton to fal-lals of that sort. A thumping cheque would have been more to the point. Say, Mr. Fawcett, you ain't a rich man?"

Bob flushed at the blunt question, and Ethel blushed in sympathy.

"No offence!" added the old man, his eyes twinkling. "It's just this way. I've been thinking for a week, Mr. Fawcett. It ain't right for that tramp of yours across the Manchurian hills to be thrown slick away. How long do you suppose this war will last out?"

"That's more than I can even imagine," replied Bob. "I don't see how Port Arthur can hold out much longer; they are closing in on it; and as to the land campaign, the Japanese generals are driving the Russians from pillar to post. If the Russians are wise, the war will end with the fall of Port Arthur."

"Ah! and then?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, I suppose the Japs--"

"Poppa!" interrupted Ethel. "Don't use that horrid word--call them Japanese."

"Anything to please you, my love. I was going to say that I suppose the Japs--Japanese, I mean--are not running this war for nothing. They'll want to develop the country--what?"

"No doubt."

"And they'll keep an 'open door', eh? Well, what I've been thinking is this. When the war ends, it'll be time for me to slip in with a syndicate to work out some of the minerals--what! And it seems to me, from what I've heard and seen of you--especially what I've seen--that you're the right sort to be of use. You know the country; say, you've had a practical training--not wasted too much time on defunct languages, eh? and what's most to the point, you've got a pretty level head, and I'll go bail you ain't afraid of work. So, if you're agreeable, we'll strike a bargain. What?"

"I accept your offer with pleasure, sir," said Bob, his face flushed, his eyes shining. "I've always wanted to live an active life, and--"

"Shake!" said the American, relapsing into his usual laconic mode of utterance. Mrs. Pottle gleamed benevolence through her eye-glasses, and Bob's eyes sought Ethel's.

A few days later, one of the liners of the _Pacific Mail_ was steaming across the ocean from Yokohama towards San Francisco. On the deck sat a group of three--the same three who had foregathered on the voyage out to Nagasaki seven months before. Morton and Desjardins, finding that their chances of seeing anything of the actual fighting were not improving, had asked to be recalled, and were returning by way of New York. Bob, with sick-leave from the Japanese government, had accepted an invitation to spend a few weeks with Mr. Charteris in San Francisco. The three were lolling on their deck-chairs, when a fourth figure was seen slowly rising from the companion-way.

"Well, Schwab, feel better?" shouted Morton.

"Zanks, Mr. Morton, I am vat you call fairly gumfortable. Ze sea-illness attack me not zis time so bad. Indeed," he added expansively, "I gommence to enjoy myself."

"Ah! de beautiful sea, de beautiful sun!" exclaimed Desjardins. "I look up into de blue sky lovly above, and it make me feel all de vorld is poetry."

"Bosh!" snorted Morton in his downright way. "Excuse me; no poetry in the world but what you put there. I ain't built that way; no Englishman who can eat a beefsteak is. No!"

"But, monsieur, you do yourself, you do your nation, im-mense injustice. Par exemple! vat vas it I hear last night ven I promenade myself beneas de so silent stars? Assuredly it vas de sweet voice of Mademoiselle Charteris who give a lesson to de boy Ah-Sam. I listen; I am charmed; it vas a little poem, so short, so simple, I learn it by 'art at once:

"''Ow doss de leetle beesy bee-e Impr-rove each shinin' hour-r, And gader 'oney all de day-e From every openin' flower-r-r!

So it begin, and--"

"I see Madame Bottle!" suddenly exclaimed Schwab, rising clumsily from the deck-chair into which he had subsided. The others rose also and hastened along the deck towards a group of two ladies and a gentleman coming in their direction. Schwab at once took possession of Mrs. Pottle; the others manoeuvred for the place at Ethel's left hand, the right being occupied by her father. Desjardins lost his chance by waiting to make an elaborate bow; Morton, for all his bluntness, was a bashful man; so that Bob had no great difficulty in securing the position. Morton consoled himself by arranging deck-chairs for the ladies, and the company grouped themselves, Schwab still next to Mrs. Pottle, and Bob retaining his place at Ethel's left hand.

"We've been hearing of your English lessons to Ah-Sam," said Morton to Ethel.

"Have you? Oh yes! I don't like his pidgin English at all. It would be so much nicer if he could speak properly, and the poor man is really so eager to learn."

"How does he get on?" asked Bob.

"I think he is improving, but it is very slow. I read in a magazine the other day that learning to recite poetry is a great help, so I have been teaching him a very easy little poem, explaining it as I go along in just the same simple language I use to my Sunday-school class. He is so intelligent."

"There he is," said Bob. "Let us see what he makes of it" (with a glance at Desjardins). "You don't mind, Miss Charteris?"

"Not at all," replied Ethel, with a faint blush, "--if you are not too severe an examiner."

"Here, Ah-Sam!" called Bob.

The Chinaman came up and bowed humbly.

"Miss Charteris has been teaching you about the little busy bee. We should like to hear you say it."

"My no can talkee missy so-fashion," said Ah-Sam, looking troubled.

"Never mind that. Say it your own way."

Ah-Sam looked at Ethel.

"Come, Ah-Sam," she said; "remember how I explained it to you."

The Chinaman put his hands behind his back, hesitated, then fixed his eyes on the nearest ventilator, and in his odd sing-song chanted:

"What-for one piecee littee pidgy bee Wantchee go workee allo bloomin' day-lo? He go 'long smellum evely littee tlee; Ch'hoy! catchee jam-jam; bimeby chop-chop wailo!"

The colour of Ethel's cheeks had deepened from pink to scarlet during this recitation. Morton gave a titter at the second line, then cougned and looked solemn. At the end they all glanced at one another and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Ah-Sam looked deprecatingly at his young mistress, and began to make humble obeisance with his hands.

"Thank you, Ah-Sam," she said. "You said it very nicely. You may go now.--What a shame!" she added, turning to the others when he had gone, "to hurt the poor man's feelings so. He did his best."

"And clearly showed that he had studied your commentary more than the text, as is the way with students of English," said Bob. "Never mind, Miss Charteris; Ah-Sam's a good fellow. I am hardly yet reconciled to his transference of allegiance from me to you."

"Nor I," said Mr. Charteris drily, with a grim look at his sister.

"Now, Andrew, don't go into that again," said Mrs. Pottle. "There's no rule without an exception. Our legislators are mostly right, I allow; but when they make a law that excludes all Chinamen from our shores--well, they have to reckon with me. I confess I smuggled Ah-Sam on board; he's the exception, a most exceptional China boy. Ethel took a fancy to have him for a servant, and I'll land him right down at San Francisco, laws or no laws."

Mr. Charteris shrugged.

"Fawcett," he said, "come and take a turn with me. We must talk over that prospectus--eh, what?"

"Yes, and I must write up my diary for the _Argonaut_," said Mrs. Pottle, rising, and sailing away towards a table specially reserved for her beneath the awning. Herr Schwab looked glum on her departure; he took no part in the conversation of the others, and when Ethel by and by left the group and strolled away by herself, he too got up, refilled his big pipe, and walked to a spot where, leaning on the rail, he had Mrs. Pottle in full view. Puffing solemnly, he watched her for a long time as she wrote on and on in complete unconsciousness of his lingering gaze. At last, putting his pipe into his pocket without knocking out the ashes, he went below. Soon he returned, laden with several bulky tomes, and staggered up to Mrs. Pottle's sheltered corner, where he placed the volumes in a pile beside her table, and heaved a sonorous sigh. Mrs. Pottle looked up, glanced from Schwab's face to the books, then resumed her writing, just as the German was bringing his right hand down on the crown of his wideawake. He wiped his gold-rimmed spectacles, replaced them on his nose, and sighed again.

"Don't you feel well, Mr. Schwab?" said the lady, preparing to pack up her papers.

"Quite vell, madame, I zank you--egzept in vun sbot," he said. He had his hat off now, and as Mrs. Pottle looked curiously at him he made her a profound obeisance, and in a hurried, slightly anxious tone, said:

"I beg leaf, dear madame, to bresent you zese few volumes _Brockhaus Encyglobaedia_--last edition, viz colour blates."

"Really, Mr. Schwab, it is very good of you, but--no, I couldn't think of it--I--"

"Ach, it is nozink; it is nozink. Ze Gairman heart, madame, ven it is touched, do not zink of egsbense; it vibrate only viz sentiment. Besides, I buy zem halfprice."

Mrs. Pottle had both hands on the table, and was gazing through her eye-glasses at Schwab in speechless amazement.

"Allow me, dear Madame Bottle, to egsblain. You, no doubt, haf forgotten ze moment--vy should you regollect?--ven you ar-rive on zis ship: ze moment ven--vat shall I say?--ven you stickfast in ze too-narrow gangvay. Oh! madame, zat vas ze obbortunity of my life; I vas ready. You, Madame Bottle, vas Andromeda; I, Hildebrand Schwab, vas Berseus. Madame, I bush you zrough.... And at zat moment--I--fall--in--lov!"

"Oh!" gasped Mrs. Pottle, half rising to escape. But she could not leave the corner she had so carefully chosen without passing Schwab; his bulky form concealed her from view; and feeling a prisoner she fell limply back into her chair.

"Lov!" continued Schwab, as one declaiming an oration; "lov! vat is it? Madame, I seek it in _Brockhaus Encyglobaedia_, vol. eleven:--'Lov is a highly gomblex emotion azzoziated viz ze value vun put upon a berson or a objeck.' Vat, I ask myself, is ze value I put upon zat beautiful objeck--I should say berson? Madame, I--I cannot gif estimate--I, Hildebrand Schwab, vat gif estimate by ze zousand. Ergo, I am in lov: _quod erat demonstrandum_."

Mrs. Pottle said something, and again essayed to flee, but Schwab spread himself and solemnly waved her down.

"Stay, madame. It is not merely zat I am in lov; I am also in business. I haf ze honour to offer you double bartnership. My hand, madame, my heart--my Gairman heart--I blace zem at your feet. And viz zem go ze rebresentation of ze solid house of Schlagintwert, ze gorresbondence of ze _Duesseldoerfer Tageblatt_ vat circulate in Werden, Kettwig, Muelheim, Odenkolin, and ozer blaces; besides fery bromising agencies in Ruskin edition de luxe, batent mangle, hair restorer, zentrifugal bomp, bianola--"

Schwab was so intent on his formula that he was not prepared for a sudden convulsive movement on the part of Mrs. Pottle, who seized her sunshade, and, sweeping the bulky wooer from her path, fled below. He stood for a moment in solemn stillness; then he took out his pipe, emptied it of ash, refilled and lit it, and, blowing great guns, gathered the volumes into his arms and walked away.

Meanwhile Mrs. Pottle had almost fallen into the arms of her brother, who was bringing from his cabin a paper to show Bob on deck.

"Now, Jane, Jane," expostulated Mr. Charteris mildly "you are too old to take flying leaps like that."

"Oh, Andrew, Andrew!" said Mrs. Pottle, with a burst of laughter, "I am not too old to have an offer."

"What do you mean?"

"My! I can hardly tell you for laughing. I have had a proposal of marriage--at my age! Guess who from?"

"Not Bob Fawcett?" said Mr Charteris with a sudden grim suspicion.

"Bob Fawcett!" Mrs. Pottle almost shouted with laughter. "You are just an old goose, Andrew. No; from Mr. Schwab, Hildebrand Schwab, who tried to woo me with a German encyclopaedia. It just beats anything!"

Mr. Charteris grunted.

"Knows that Isidore left you a pile, I suppose."

"You're not complimentary, Andrew. Mr. Schwab called me a 'beautiful objeck', fell in love with me because he had to help me up the gangway, 'bush me zrough!' Oh!----"

The recollection was too much for Mrs. Pottle; her portly double chin shook, and she was breathless with laughter.

"I advise a visit to the stewardess, Jane," said Mr. Charteris. "Excitement is dangerous--at your age."

"Wait a moment, Andrew," said his sister as he made to ascend the ladder. "You thought Bob might have fallen a victim to Isidore's pile? You're as blind as a bat to everything but business. Let me tell you a secret, sir. Bob is head over ears in love with Ethel."

"Eh?"

"And Ethel, though of course she won't admit it, is, his, well----"

"What?"

"Yes!" said Mrs. Pottle inconsequently. "Don't look so fierce," she added, patting his arm. "Bob's a good fellow; you won't be disappointed in him."

"Well, Jane," said Mr. Charteris slowly, "I allow that you surprise me. I guess I'm pretty well pleased. To be sure, I never reckoned on Ethel marrying a Britisher; she don't take no stock of 'em as a rule. But I'll say this: I don't care who the man is--Yankee, Britisher, or Australian; but if he's a worker, a fellow who'll get on, a good sort, and real fond of my gal--hang me, he shall have her--if she's willing. What!"

THE END

*Glossary*

C=Chinese, J=Japanese, P=Pidgin-English. The Chinese substitute _l_ for _r_, and add the terminations _-ee_, _-um_, and _--lo_ to many words.

_allo_ (P), all, every.

_banzai_ (J), lit. "ten thousand years!", an exclamation in salutation of the emperor, equivalent to _Vive le roi_!

_belongey_ (P), often equivalent simply to the verb _to be_.

_bimeby_ (P), by and by, afterwards.

_bobbely_ (P), noise, uproar.

_bottom-side_ (P), down, below.

_catchee_ (P), to get, have.

_ch'hoy_ (P), an exclamation.

_cham-tow_ (C), to cut off the head, execute.

_chop-chop_ (P), quickly.

_chow-chow_ (P), food.

_daimio_ (J), a feudal and military chief whose income exceeded 10,000 _koku_ of rice(_koku_=5.13 bushels).

_-ee_, a pidgin-English termination.

_first-chop_ (P), best, excellently.

_galaw_ (P), a common exclamation.

_geisha_ (J), a dancing and singing girl.

_hai_ (J), an exclamation used in answering.

_ha-loy_ (P), come down.

_hara-kiri_ (J), suicide by cutting open the abdomen.

_hayo_ (J), early: _o hayo_, good-morning.

_he_ (P), he, she, it, they, him, her.

_iniside_ (P), within, in.

_joss_ (P), god.

_joss-house_ (P), temple.

_joss-pidgin-man_ (P), priest.

_kimono_ (J), long outer garment.

_komban_ (J), good-evening.

_koto_ (J), a kind of lyre.

_kow-tow_ (P), to bow humbly.

_li_ (C), a Chinese mile: 250 _li_ make 1 degree.

_littee_ (P), little.

_look-see_ (P), look, examine.

_makura_ (J), a rest for the head.

_meshi_ (J), boiled rice.

_muchee_ (P), very.

_musume_ (J), girl, young lady.

_my_ (P), I, me, my, mine.

_no can do_ (P), cannot.

_numpa_ (P), number: _numpa one_, first-rate.

_o_ (J), an honorific prefix used in addressing or speaking respectfully of a person: _o hayo_, good-morning.

_obe_ (J), a long sash worn round the waist.

_one-tim'_ (P), once.

_pan_ (J), bread: _pan taberu daro_, I want something to eat.

_pidgin_ (P), business: _pidgin-English_, English as spoken by Chinese at the ports.

_pidgy_ (P), busy.

_piecee_ (P), used with numerals: _one piecee man_=a or one man.

_plopa_ (P), proper: _allo plopa_, all right.

_sake_ (J), a fermented rice-beer.

_sampan_ (C), a Chinese punt.

_samurai_ (J), lit. one who serves the emperor; a member of the military class formerly privileged to wear two swords.

_san_ (J), a title used with names.

_sassy_ (P), saucy, proud.

_savvy_ (P), know, understand.

_sayonara_ (J), good-bye.

_shogun_ (J), commander-in-chief; the title of the ruler who for several centuries supplanted the Mikado.

_side_ (P), place, direction: _this-side_, here; _that-side_, there; _what-side_, where.

_so-fashion_ (P), in that way.

_tabemono_ (J), a gift of food.

_taberu_ (J), I shall eat.

_tadaima_ (J), presently, at once.

_that-side_ (P), there.

_that-tim'_ (P), then.

_this-side_ (P), here, hither.

_tim'_ (P), time.

_topside_ (P), above, superior.

_topside-pidgin-man_ (P), missionary.

_uma_ (J), horse.

_wa_ (J), a particle.

_wailo_ (P), away, to go away, run away.

_wantchee_ (P), to want.

_what-for_ (P), why.

_what-side_ (P), where.

_what-tim'_ (P), when.

_yen_ (J), dollar.

_yinkelis_ (P), English.

* * * * * * * *

*The Light Brigade in Spain*

*or*

*The Last Fight of Sir John Moore*

*By Herbert Strang*

Author of "Tom Burnaby," etc.

With a Preface by Lieut.-Col. WILLOUGHBY VERNER.

_Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I. 12mo. $1.50_

"In 'Boys of the Light Brigade' Mr. Strang draws upon the resources of the Peninsular War, and succeeds in extracting much freshness from well-worn themes, as Moore's retreat to Corunna and the heroic defence of Saragossa. The personal interest of the story is kept at a high tension.... It is a book which no boy will be able to put down when once started. The volume is provided with excellent maps and plans of the scenes in which the incidents take place."--_The Standard_.

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"An interesting story, with extra good measure in its incidents and character ... and with some pretty little love passages."--_Cleveland Leader_.

*By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS*

Historic Boys. Their Endeavors, Their Achievements and Their Times. With 29 full-page illustrations. 8vo, pp. viii + 259.

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*FOR YOUNG PEOPLE*

*ROYAL ROGUES*

By ALBERTA BANCROFT. With Illustrations by Louis Betts. 12mo. $1.25

There are few healthy-minded folk, whatever their time of life, who will not confess to a fondness for fairy tales of the right sort. "Royal Rogues" has that quality which makes a children's book win the hearts of grown-ups. The heroes are merry twin rogues, king's sons of course, but with a strain of fairy blood in their veins. Wildly strange and delightful are their explorations in the realms of fairyland.

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*ON BOARD A WHALER*

An Adventurous Cruise through Southern Seas. By THOMAS WEST HAMMOND. With 16 full-page illustrations by HARRY GEORGE BURGESS. 12mo. $1.25

"Thrilling throughout.... In the name of American youth, we thank Mr. Hammond for resuscitating a memory that had slumbered so long."--_Com. Advertiser_.

"The yarn he spins of that and other trips in search of oil is one of the best I ever read. It is indeed a thrilling, exciting, dangerous story of the sea, a tale of personal experience put into book form by as brave a sailor as ever chased whales, and it is full of that local color which makes a fellow's blood tingle as he turns the pages. The illustrations are excellent."--HENRY HAYNIE in _The Boston Times_.

*Tales of the Heroic Ages.*

By ZENAIDE A. RAGOZIN, author of "Chaldea," "Vedic India," etc.

No. I.--Siegfried the Hero of the North, and Beowulf, the Hero of the Anglo-Saxons. Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50

No. II.--Frithjof, the Viking of Norway, and Roland, the Paladin of France. Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50

No. III.--Salammbo the Maid of Carthage. Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50

"The author is one who knows her subject as a scholar, and has the skill and imagination to construct her stories admirably. Her style is terse and vivid, well adapted to interest the young in these dignified and thrilling tales."--_Dial_.

*Plutarch for Boys and Girls.*

Selected and Edited by JOHN S. WHITE. Illustrated. 8vo. $1.75

Library edition. 2 vols. 16vo. $2.50

"It is a pleasure to see in so beautiful and elegant a form one of the great books of the world. The best Plutarch for young readers."--_Literary World_.

"Shows admirable scholarship and judgment."--Critic.

*Pliny for Boys and Girls.*

The Natural History of Pliny the Elder.

Edited by JOHN S. WHITE.

With 52 illustrations. 4to. $2.00

"Mr. White's selections are admirably made. He has gleaned in all directions for his notes, and the result is one which reflects on him great credit, and adds another to the number of juvenile books which may be commended without reservation."--_Independent_.

"For the libraries of the young--and every boy and girl in the land should collect a library of their own--these superb books have a special adaptation; they open the classics to them."--_Boston Journal of Education_.

*Herodotus for Boys and Girls.*

Edited by JOHN S. WHITE. With 50 illustrations. 8vo. $1.75

Library edition. 2 vols. 16vo. $2.50

"The book really contains those parts of Herodotus which a judicious parent would most likely have his boys and girls acquainted with, and Mr. White has succeeded in condensing these by omitting multitudes of phrases inserted in the Greek text. The print is so large and clear that no one need fear that it will foster a tendency to near-sightedness on the part of boy or girl.--_Nation_.

*The Travels of Marco Polo.*

Edited for Boys and Girls, with explanatory notes and comments, by THOMAS W. KNOX. With over 200 illustrations. 8vo. $1.75

"To the student of geography Marco Polo needs no introduction. He is revered as the greatest of all travellers in the Middle Ages, and by more than one careful geographer his work is believed to have led to the discovery of the New World by the Hardy Mariner of Genoa.... The story of his travels was received with incredulity, and he died while Europe was gravely doubting its truth. It has remained for later generations to establish the correctness of his narrative and accord him the praise he so richly deserves."

*G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK AND LONDON*