sailing to the north. It is now November, and, although it is warm enough at this season in the southern part of the sea, it will become colder and colder as we go on. The consequence of this will be that those corsairs will want winter clothes, they will take them out of the Captain's chests, and they will find our fruit.”

The boys groaned. "That is true," said one of them; "but still we wish to go back to our island."

"Of course," said the eldest boy, "it is quite proper that we should return to Long Division. But think of the hard work we did to get that fruit, and think of the quarts of gold we gave up for it! It would be too bad to lose it now!"

It was unanimously agreed that it would be too bad to lose the fruit, and it was also unanimously agreed that they wished to go back to Apple Island. But what to do about it, they did not know.

He

Day by day the weather grew colder and colder, and the boys became more and more excited and distressed for fear they should lose their precious fruit. The eldest boy lay awake for several nights, and then a plan came into his head. He went to Captain Covajos and proposed that he should send a flag of truce over to the corsairs, offering to exchange winter clothing. would send over to them the heavy garments they had left on their own vessel, and in return would take the boxes of clothes intended for the winter wear of his sailors. In this way, they would get their fruit back without the corsairs knowing anything about it. The Captain considered this an excellent plan, and ordered the chief mate to take a boat and a flag of truce, and go over to the "Horn o' Plenty," and make the proposition. The eldest boy and two of the others insisted on going also, in order that there might be no mistake about the boxes. when the flag-of-truce party reached the "Horn o' Plenty" they found not a corsair there! Every man of them had gone. They had taken with them all the money-chests, but to the great delight of the boys, the boxes of winter clothes had not been disturbed; and in them still nestled, safe and sound, the precious nuts of the Fragile Palm.

THE CREW OF THE "HORN O' PLENTY' TAKE TO THE CORSAIR-SHIP. (SEE PAGE 130.)

But

merchants would lose all their money, and the corsairs would go unpunished; and, besides all that, think of the misery of the parents and guardians of those poor boys. No; I must endeavor to find Apple Island. And if I can not reach port in time to spend last Christmas with my son, I shall certainly get there in season for Christmas before last. It is true that I spent that Christmas with my daughter, but I can not go on to her now. I am much nearer the city where my son lives; and, besides, it is necessary to go back, and give the merchants their money. So now we shall have plenty of time, and need not feel hurried." "No," said Baragat, heaving a vast sigh, "we done. There had been only one boat on board need not feel hurried."

The mind of the eldest boy now became very much troubled, and he called his companions about him. "I don't like at all," said he, "this

When the matter had been thoroughly looked into, it became quite evident what the corsairs had

the "Horn o' Plenty," and that was the one on which the First Class in Long Division had arrived. The night before, the two vessels had passed within a mile or so of a large island, which the Cap

tain had approached in the hope it was the one they were looking for, and they passed it so slowly that the corsairs had time to ferry themselves over, a few at a time, in the little boat, taking with them the money, and all without discovery. Captain Covajos was greatly depressed when he heard of the loss of all the money.

"I shall have a sad tale to tell my merchants," he said, "and Christmas before last will not be celebrated so joyously as it was the first time. But we can not help what has happened, and we all must endeavor to bear our losses with patience. We shall continue our search for Apple Island, but I shall go on board my own ship, for I have greatly missed my carpeted quarter-deck and my other comforts. The chief mate, however, and a majority of the crew shall remain on board the corsair vessel, and continue to tow us. The Horn o' Plenty' sails better stern foremost, and we shall go faster that way."

When the good old man received his present, he was much affected. "I will accept what you offer me," he said; "for if I did not, I know your feelings would be wounded. But you must keep one of the nuts for yourselves. And, more than that,

if we do not find Apple Island in the course of the coming year, I invite you all to spend Christmas before last over again, with me at my son's house."

All that winter, the two ships sailed up and down, and here and there, but never could they find Apple Island. When Christmas-time came, old Baragat went around among the boys and the crew, and told them it would be well not to say a word on the subject to the Captain, for his feelings were very tender in regard to spending Christmas away from his families, and the thing had never happened before. So nobody made any allusion to the holidays, and they passed over as if they had been ordinary days.

"WHEN THE GOOD MAN RECEIVED HIS PRESENT, HE WAS MUCH AFFECTED."

The boys were overjoyed at recovering their fruit, and most of them were in favor of cracking two or three of the great nuts, and eating their contents in honor of the occasion, but the eldest boy dissuaded them.

"The good Captain," he said, "has been very kind in endeavoring to take us back to our school, and still intends to keep up the search for dear old Apple Island. The least we can do for him is to give him this fruit, which is all we have, and let him do what he pleases with it. This is the only way in which we can show our gratitude to him." The boys turned their backs on one another, and each of them gave his eyes a little rub, but they all agreed to give the fruit to the Captain.

During the spring, and all through the summer, the two ships kept up the unavailing search, but when the autumn began, Captain Covajos said to old Baragat: "I am very sorry, but I feel that I can no longer look for Apple Island. I must go back and spend Christmas before last over again, with my dearest son; and if these poor boys never return to their homes, I am sure they can not say it was any fault of mine."

"No, sir," said Baragat, "I think you have done all that could be expected of you."

So the ships sailed to the city on the west side of the sea; and the Captain was received with great joy by his son, and his grandchildren. He went to the merchants, and told them how he had

THE RAJAH'S PAPER-CUTTER.
BY JOHN R. Coryell.

A NUMBER of years ago there was a wealthy rajah in Calcutta, who, having a friendly feeling toward his English conquerors, had learned to speak and read their language. He was not a little proud of his accomplishments, and especially of his ability to read; and so he very seldom lost an opportunity to display it.

It happened that one day, while visiting the English viceroy, he saw, lying on a table, a copy of the Edinburgh Review, which had just been received. As there were several strangers in the room, the rajah was seized with a desire to make known his knowledge of English.

"Your Excellency," he said, addressing the viceroy, "will you be good enough to lend me this book to read?"

The viceroy of course complied, and all the guests expressed their surprise that the rajah had overcome the difficulties of the English language. So the prince, quite satisfied with the sensation he had created, took his leave.

Having borrowed the magazine, the rajah, though he had no idea of the sort of literature it contained, felt that he ought to read it through carefully, so that, when questioned about it by the viceroy, he might answer intelligently.

Accordingly he began with the first article, which was an account of "Hunting the Orangoutang"; and first learning from his dictionary what an orang-outang was, he read on to the bottom of the page with increasing interest.

"The orang is as large as"—he read, and, turning the page, continued "the unfortunate Queen of Scotland, who will perhaps stand higher in the estimation of future generations than her more successful rival, Elizabeth of England."

The rajah was greatly perplexed. The sentence seemed to make sense, and yet he could not for the life of him see what the orang-outang had to do with the Queen of Scotland. And the worst of it was that the article immediately dropped the subject of the orang and devoted itself to Queen Mary Stuart.

The puzzled potentate, having tried in vain to connect the two ideas, finally gave up the orang-outang and became so interested in the fortunes of the Scottish Queen that by the time he had reached the bottom of the following page he had almost forgotten that there was such a creature as an orang-outang.

"The house of Guise, then in power in France,"

the rajah turned the page,- "devoted themselves almost exclusively to the breeding of milch cows." "Well," said the viceroy, when, on the following day, the rajah returned the magazine, "did you find anything of interest to you in the pages?

"Interesting enough, but so very disconnected," replied the rajah. "Why, look!" and he pointed out the extraordinary sentences he had read.

The viceroy, who was a gentleman, did not laugh then; he merely smiled sympathetically, and waited until the rajah was gone.

"I should have told you," he said politely, "that the leaves were not cut. See!" He took up a paper-knife and cut the leaves. "You turned from Hunting the Orang-outang' to 'The History of Mary Stuart,' and from that to an article on Jersey Cows.'"

The rajah forgot his chagrin in his curiosity to learn how the magazine could be printed with its leaves all folded up.

This the viceroy explained, and then, seeing that the rajah was curiously examining the paperknife, he courteously presented it to him. The rajah then returned home, and the viceroy forgot the occurrence until it was recalled to his memory in a singular way, about a year later.

He was surprised one day to see a gayly dressed company enter his court-yard, surrounding the friendly rajah, who was mounted upon the back of a young elephant. Salutations were exchanged, and the rajah called out:

"Has your Excellency an uncut copy of the Edinburgh Review?”

The viceroy had a copy, and sent for it. "Will your Excellency please toss it to my clephant?"

The viceroy threw it toward the animal, which very deftly caught it with its trunk.

What was the viceroy's astonishment then to see the elephant slip the uncut edges of the magazine over one of its tusks and neatly and carefully cut them open!

Looking more closely, he saw that each of the tusks had been carved into a paper-knife, with smooth blade and elaborate handle.

The elephant, when it had completed its task of cutting the leaves, passed the magazine back to the admiring viceroy.

"Your Excellency," said the rajah, as he dismounted from the elephant, "a year ago you gave me a paper-knife. It has, as you see, come to