dish of strawberries and cream, and something wrapped

in a cloth, under her arm.

she cried, out of breath.

"Oh, Dolly! are you here?" "Such work as I have had to

get these. Please take this from under my arm—it is cake. I could not find Ben or Hannah.

to be such a time. Come along."

I was so sorry

They hurried across the field. It was getting cooler

now.

"I believe I never could have carried it all by myself,” said Annie.

"It was a good thing I came," returned her friend, as she hurried on.

"Now for a feast," said Annie joyfully.

Dolly entered the tent. She gazed round in dismay; then she uttered a loud cry.

"What ever is the matter?" exclaimed Annie, as she came up.

Dolly stared wildly at her, then burst into tears.

The tent was empty! The musical-box, the books, the work-basket, and poor Miriam, all had disappeared. Nothing but the bare seats met their eyes.

"Oh, Dolly!" cried her friend, "why did you leave the tent, when you promised to stay? Some one has stolen all the things. What shall we do?"

Poor Dolly could only sob and cry, as she sank upon one of the seats, and covered her face with her hands.

CHAPTER VII.

AN ADVENTURE.

MEANWHILE the merry party of boys up in the wood had been enjoying their scramble. After calling at the cottage, where, as Freddy had told them, they found plenty of good refreshment; consisting of curds and whey, lemonade, and ripe fruit; they climbed the hill yet higher; and so, getting out on to the breezy downs, had coasted the distant beach, in view of the glorious sea, whence they had watched the sun set, and amused themselves by guessing the destination of the various vessels they made out, sailing swiftly along, in the blue distance.

Harty had amused and interested the party very much, by recounting the experiences of poor Peter; and one small bay, the boys looked down upon from their lofty resting-place, might well have been the identical spot where the little cottage was submerged.

"I like hearing about such things when I know they are true," said Willie Crowe; "my father can tell some

good tales of what he has seen in his voyages; but he says some of the stories in books are not a bit true, and are written by people who only pretend they have been to the places they talk about.'

"Shall you go to sea?" asked Harty.

"Yes," was Willie's reply. "I am to sail with my father the year after next, when I leave school."

Harty looked with renewed interest at the boy, no older than himself, whose destiny was fixed for him so happily, according to Harty's idea.

"I wish I were you," he said gravely, a minute after, when most of them were thinking of something else, and it made them laugh.

66

Harty is sea-mad," said Freddy Fairbairn.

"Ah!" returned Willie Crowe, "I don't know that I should care to sail with any one else; but when it is one's father, and his own ship-"

Yes, it is different; but everybody can't have a father for a captain," remarked Harty gloomily.

"I suppose you mean a captain for a father," said Smithson. "But you need not be so solemn about it,

Harty."

The other boys laughed, and Harty could only join in, for he knew his words must have sounded oddly. "I should like to wander about the world," he said, with some bravado in his tone, "even if I do not go to sea. It would be fine to meet with adventures, wouldn't it now?"

Depends on what sort of adventures," said Wilmot, a boy who was a head taller than Harty, though very little older. "You wouldn't care to meet with the adventure my uncle did the other day down in Cornwall." "What was that? Do tell us!" said several of the boys together.

"He is a doctor," you know," resumed Wilmot, and, of course, he often has to ride great distances, often through places that are strange to him, for he has not settled there long. His nag is pretty surefooted, as a rule; but that evening he was deep in thought (my uncle, I mean, not the nag), and let the bridle hang loose on the ani

mal's neck. All at once the creature stumbled, unseated the old gentleman, and he felt himself flying over Whitefoot's neck through the air, and down, down into darkness. As he went, my uncle says, he felt something, as it were, surround and bear him up somewhat; and, when he reached the bottom, he felt soft and warm, but half

smothered, with his face all covered up, and his eyes blinded. It was some minutes before he got his face uncovered; then it was still all darkness. He groped about with his arms, but could only feel the mass of soft substance that weighed down his legs and body. He hallooed at the top of his voice, but he heard nothing else. He looked up, and at last he made out the stars shining up ever so far above him. Then he began to think he was down some disused shaft, and that he might lie there till Doomsday, and nobody ever find him.”

"There was his horse," said Willie Crowe; "he would go home very likely, and they would look for his master." Ay, but the chances were they would not have thought of looking where he was," returned Wilmot. "However, the dear old gentleman says he had made up his mind that he should not be found till it was too late. He was quite ready to meet death, he says, and I don't doubt it, for he is a brave, good fellow as ever lived.

"By-and-by the moon rose, and shone right down into this shaft; my uncle then made out that it was a very narrow, deep sort of pit, bricked all round; and then, to his amazement, he found he was wrapped up-head, body, and limbs-in a big, soft, heavy carpet!

"Well, you know, it was so absurd, that he says he burst out laughing, though there was nobody there to hear him. I can quite believe it, for he enjoys a joke.

"But don't you see,' says my uncle, 'they'll miss the carpet, and will think of looking for that, maybe, down here,