Charlie, who is mounted upon a much humbler horse— as he of right should be, since he is three years your junior.

2. I know no nobler forage ground for a romantic, venturesome, mischievous boy than the garret of an old family mansion on a day of storm. It is a perfect field of chivalry.

The heavy rafters, the dashing rain, the piles of spare mattresses to carouse upon, the big trunks to hide in, the old white coats and hats hanging in obscure corners like ghosts are great!

There is great fun in groping through a tall barrel of books and pamphlets, on the lookout for startling pictures; and there are chestnuts in the garret, drying, which you have discovered on a ledge of the chimney, and you slide a few into your pocket and munch them quietly-giving now and then one to Nelly and begging her to keep silent, for you have a great fear of its being forbidden fruit.

3. But you grow tired of this; you tire even of the swing and of the pranks of Charlie, and you glide away into a corner with an old dog's-eared copy of "Robinson Crusoe."

And you grow heart and soul into the story, until you tremble for the poor fellow with his guns behind the palisade, and are yourself half dead with fright when

and you think you would like such a time yourself, if only Nelly and Charlie could be there with you.

But this thought does not come till afterward; for the time you are nothing but Crusoe-you are living in his cave with Poll the parrot and are looking out for your goats and man Friday.

4. You dream what a nice thing it would be for you to slip away some pleasant morning- not to York, as young Crusoe did, but to New York-and take passage as a sailor; and how, if they knew you were going, there would be such a world of good-byes, and how, if they did not know it, there would be such a world of wonder!

And then the sailor's dress would be altogether such a jaunty affair, and it would be such rare sport to lie off upon the yards far aloft, as you have seen sailors in pictures looking out upon the blue and tumbling sea.

No thought now in your boyish dreams of sleety storms and cables stiffened with ice and crashing spars and great icebergs towering fearfully around you!

5. You would have better luck than even Crusoe; you would save a compass and a Bible and stores of hatchets and the captain's dog and great puncheons of sweetmeats (which Crusoe altogether overlooked); and you would save a tent or two, which you could set up on the shore, and an American flag and a small piece of cannon, which you could fire as often as you liked.

At night you would sleep in a tree-though you wonder how Crusoe did it and would say the prayers you had been taught to say at home, and fall to sleep, dreaming of Nelly and Charlie.

6. At sunrise, or thereabouts, you would come down, feeling very much refreshed, and make a very nice break

sea-bread with a little
After this
After this you would

fast off of smoked herring and currant jam and a few oranges. haul ashore a chest or two of the sailor's clothes, and, putting a few large jackknives in your pocket, would take a stroll over the island and dig a cave somewhere and roll in a cask or two of sea-bread.

And you fancy yourself growing after a time very tall and wearing a magnificent goatskin cap trimmed with green ribbons and set off with a plume. You think you would have put a few more guns in than Crusoe did and charged them with a little more grape.

7. After a long while, you fancy, a ship would arrive which would carry you back, and you count upon very great surprise on the part of your father and little Nelly as you march up to the door of the old family mansion with plenty of gold in your pocket and a small bag of cocoanuts for Charlie, and with a great deal of pleasant talk about your island far away in the south seas.

And so, with your head upon your hand, in your quiet, garret corner, over some such beguiling story, your thought leans away from the book into your own dreamy cruise over the sea of life.

THE SEA VOYAGE.

BY JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND.

From "Arthur Bonnicastle." Copyright, 1882, by Charles Scribner's Sons,

JOSIAH G. HOLLAND, widely known by the pen-name of "Timothy Titcomb," was born July, 1819, in a Massachusetts village called Belchertown. He began life as a doctor, but after a few years of practice gave up this profession and went to Vicksburg as superintendent of schools.

From this city he went to Springfield, Mass., and became an editor of "The Springfield Republican." He wrote first for the papers, but soon devoted more time to general literary work. He wrote a number of novels, two very popular poems, "Bitter Sweet" and "Kathrina," and several volumes of essays.

In 1870 he became editor of "Scribner's Monthly " in New York. Dr. Holland was a delightful man and made many friends. His novels are very interesting as stories. They contain many pictures of village life, and the thought and lessons taught by them are strong and helpful. His numerous essays, first published in periodicals and afterwards in book form, are widely read. They are full of homely wisdom and kindly advice.

Dr. Holland died in 1881.

The following selection is taken from "Arthur Bonnicastle," one of Holland's best novels.

Arthur, the hero of the book, was visiting a lady who was very fond of him. He and Jenks, the stable man, were friends, although his eccentric hostess did not know of their friendship.