several other solemn occasions. In fact they are everywhere. They go to Mount Vernon to visit the tomb of Washington, and break the mortar and rocks from the walls of the old vault, cut twigs from the shubbery and trees, and carry away any little thing that will serve as a memento of the place! They write their names on the walls of the dome of the Capitol, and wherever they can get a foothold. Such defacement is not patriotism, it is vandalism. But the sight-seers proper are the "sovereigns" of whom I intended to write. They ramble wherever they see an opening, and they frequently are lost in the intricate maze of rooms and corridors in the building. The most interesting room, to most visitors, is the Rotunda. In it, all classes of pilgrims congregate, and, on any day, a person seated in one of the settees near the wall can see many distinguished men and many human curiosities pass through. The first thing a stranger does upon reaching this place, is to gaze in silent wonder at the vast proportions of the room. Some visitors show marked interest in the paintings on the canopy above. One group represents "War,” another "Manufactures," and the others have similar allegorical meanings. But the most conspicuous painting is a group of angelic "Sisters," representing the thirteen original States surrounding the Father of his Country, who sits upon a cloud with the epaulettes of a general upon his shoulders! But these "heroic" figures, if capable of appreciation, would undoubtedly laugh as heartily at the panorama below them as the tourists on the floor laugh at the oddity of the spectacle above. It is one of the most entertaining diversions to ascend the stairs to the gallery and, leaning over, to study the mass upon the floor. The people look like queer pigwidgeons without bodies. All that one can see are the tops of hats and a number of waving "prongs" that stand for moving arms and legs! I can not describe the scene, but must refer you to the skill of the artist for a representation of it. There was one ovation tendered to a visiting "sovereign," by the House, of which few people have ever heard. And yet its recipient belonged to an order of kings who reign over every home upon the habitable globe,-whimsical, fretful, domineering, yet good-natured monarchs! I mean that small bundle of inconsistencies, that "baldheaded tyrant from no-man's land,”—the baby! He came to the Capitol one summer night, and the first glimpse I caught of him was in his mother's arms in the gallery of the House. It was then about one o'clock in the morning, but the hall was crowded with all conditions of humanity. The speeches were dull and tedious, and even the baby could not restrain his feelings of impatience. So he cried with all his might! Now, what do you suppose the law-makers did when their proceedings were interrupted in this way? Did they order their sergeant-at-arms to arrest the offender and put him into jail for his contempt? No! The member who had the floor deliberately sat down, while the other Congressmen wheeled upon their chairs and cheered! The galleries took it up, and the cheering lasted fully a minute. Then the noise ceased in order to give the baby a chance to respond. But he had relapsed into a quiet mood. So the members and galleries decided to "call him out," and, with cries of "bravo!" "encore!" and the like, the applause broke out afresh! And not until after that little monarch had left the hall, was the socalled "order" of the House restored! But the incident I have narrated occurred during a night session, when members and listeners were ready to welcome any break in the monotony of the proceedings; and it is not every baby who visits the Capitol, that is accorded such a reception. (To be continued.) TWO MIDDIES AT EPHESUS. BY H. H. CLARK, U. S. N. FRED MONCRIEF and Ben Aston, two wideawake American "middies," looked down from the summit of Mount Pagus upon the blue Ægean Sea and the buildings and busy quays of the old city of Smyrna. The American frigate to which the boys belonged rode at anchor in the harbor, and the lads had obtained leave of absence, which they were enjoying greatly. Smyrna and the Ægean Islands were all well enough in their way, but Fred's desires had a wider range. "Let's go down to Ephesus," said he, as they stopped to rest upon the mountain-top, and to take in the extended view. "It will be great fun, and I've heard so much about the ruins of the old place that I really want to see it. It's only fifty manage to see the sights and have some sport Bashi-bazouks, but I have no desire to cultivate besides." "But," inquired Ben, can we go so far from their acquaintance." "I think we need n't fear," rejoined Fred; in less than a week after the trip to Mount Pagus a little white tent marked the encampment of the two middies on one of the numerous eminences overlooking the wide plain now strewn with the ruins of ancient Ephesus. "Nip" and "Tuck," two rather unpretentious-looking donkeys, were tethered on a small green plateau just below; while the boys, with a fine setter crouching behind them, lay on the border of a marsh with their fowling-pieces leveled at a flock of wild fowl which had just alighted in the long grass and were making a bountiful supper. Two simultaneous shots,-a spring from the setter, and then a handsome brace of birds was laid at the boys' feet. The setting sun soon admonished them that they must climb the hill where their tent stood, and prepare for their first night among the ruins of Ephesus. They were well equipped for camping out. Everything they could think of as necessary to comfort had been brought; and there was really enough for the demands of a household. But before "turning in," the boys, from their fine lookout, took a survey of the deserted city. From that very spot, thousands of people might once have been seen, while hundreds of vessels rode upon the beautiful reach of water beyond. Now, not a human being was in sight, and the water was as desolate as an Adirondack lake. A feeling of lonesomeness, almost of dread, stole over the boys. But presently the moon arose and bathed every object in a soft and beautiful light; the lads welcomed her joyfully, and, their feeling of awe subsiding, they were soon as soundly asleep as if in their hammocks on the frigate. Early in the morning the lads were astir and busy at their preparations for breakfast. "Nip" and "Tuck" pedition, was barking vociferously. Under Fred's supervision, the game of the night before was soon sizzling over the camp fire. Ben, having silenced the appeal of the donkeys with a plentiful "GAZING DOWN UPON THEM STOOD TWO MEN WHOSE HOSTILE CHARACTER COULD SCARCELY BE MISTAKEN. (SEE PAGE 58.) were braying loudly for their morning meal, while "Scott," the setter which the English consul at Smyrna, had kindly loaned to the boys for their ex " supply of wheat cut from a field at the foot of the hill, prepared a special breakfast for the dog, and at last came at Fred's call to enjoy the fowl, hot from the frying-pan, with its appetizing accompaniment would have held the whole population of our city of hard-tack and coffee. of Washington, and you could put every man, woman, and child of Fall River in this auditorium now, and still have room enough for the largest crowd that ever greeted Patti in London or New York. There used to be more people present at the Olympic games in Ephesus than any exposition or carnival of our day could possibly call together. I say, Ben, let 's sing a song on this old stage- (it will hardly be a Greek chorus), and when we get home we can boast that we have given a performance in the biggest theater in the world." So, with no audience save the dog, the donkeys, and the birds, the boys sang with a rollicking vehemence that might or might not have called forth a storm of applause in the time of Xenophon; but it is quite possible that their song was the only one which had wakened the echoes of the old theater for fifteen hundred years. As they breakfasted, Fred, who was quite an enthusiast in history and archæology, gave Ben all the points as to the former grandeur of Ephesus. He told him that there once stood, where now were only crumbling walls and moldering blocks and columns, a city imperial in magnificence, and one of the wonders of the ancient world; that its streets were as thronged with merchants and its docks with shipping, as are those of the great city of Liverpool to-day; that it was the capital of Ionia, the pride of Alexander, and as favorite a resort for travelers, as is the Paris of our times. He told of its theater which seated more than fifty thousand people, and its stadium, or race-course, where foot and chariot races were run and which would hold one hundred and fifty thousand spectators. He declared that in its prosperity the port of Ephesus rivaled the greatest harbors of modern times in vast breakwaters and miles of quays; and last of all he pointed to the spot at the head of the old harbor where once stood the marvelous temple of Diana, one of the "seven wonders of the world," four hundred and twenty-five feet long by two hundred feet wide, graced with one hundred and twentyseven columns, each sixty feet high,- a temple of which it was said that the sun in all his course saw nothing more magnificent. By eight o'clock, everything was ready for the day's work, and the boys set out in great glee. Fred rode "Nip," while Ben bestrode "Tuck." Thus mounted, with their guns strapped across their backs and navy revolvers in their belts, they looked as formidable as young Bashi-bazouks. The donkeys were turned toward the old theater, which Fred, who was quite an artist, wished to sketch, while Ben, who had a taste for architecture, made a note of its measurements. "This is our first, or rather second, haltingplace," said Fred, as they drew up under an old arch, where there was a good shade for the donkeys. It had evidently been a part of the foundation of the outer works of the great theater. "What a fine place for sketching!" he continued, as he drew forth his drawing materials, and quickly threw the whole outline upon a page of his sketchbook. "There was little chance of a panic in such a theater as this," he mused, as his imagination restored it to its original form. “Do you see, Ben; it was open at the top like a Spanish bull-ring; the stage was almost level with the floor; while the marble seats rose to a great height in a place hollowed out of the hill in the form of a horseshoe." “Think of it,” he continued, as Ben, who had been taking the dimensions of the front part of the theater, joined him on the stage, "this theater "Come," said Ben, at length; 66 we must n't waste any time; we have a great deal to see. We might spend a month exploring among these old ruins and then not see half of them. Let us start now for the Temple of Diana; it is some distance away, and we must be more expeditious." "Nip" started off at a vigorous pace, and "Tuck" kept up as well as he could; while "Scott," in an ecstacy of delight, chased the birds along the way. A long trench constantly impeded their progress. It was so very crooked, they were frequently obliged to force the donkeys to leap it, and this was no small task. "This," said Fred, "must have been the trench which Mr. Wood, the celebrated English architect, cut in his search for the Temple of Diana. Even the site of the building had been lost for centuries. Mr. Wood read several ancient accounts of the temple, and, from the descriptions given, by opening this trench he found the street or rather colonnade, leading to its very porch. Following along, taking the course indicated by the ancient authors, he came at last to the foundations of the temple. He found a great many inscriptions and fragments which were sent to England in a manof-war, and are now in the British Museum." At this point the lads put spurs to the donkeys, whistling, as they hurried on, to Scott, who was not yet tired of chasing birds. They could only glance at St. Luke's tomb, which Mr. Wood also discovered, and which bears on a small, simple tablet a sculptured ox, the symbol of that Apostle.* Past the ruins of theaters, and gymnasiums, through the Magnesian gate, down by the ancient Custom-house, and along the wall of the inner harbor they rode, and presently dismounted where *The or as the symbol of St. Luke is based on Ezekiel i., 10. the Temple of Diana once glittered in brilliant beauty. "Here we are!" exclaimed Fred. "Is this all there is of the great temple?" inquired Ben rather ironically. "I have seen betterlooking ruins than this up the Hudson; it does n't compare with the stone mill at Newport." even jewels that were sacred to the goddess Diana. It is heavy enough to be full of gold." While our heroes were debating as to the possible contents of the box, a growl from "Scott," and a slight sound on the edge of the pit, caused the boys to look above them; and there they beheld a startling spectacle. Gazing quietly down upon them, stood two men whose hostile character could hardly be mistaken. They were profusely and heavily armed; pistols and daggers protruded from an apron-like arrangement in front of them, while sabers in gleaming scabbards hung at their side. They were dressed in the picturesque costume of Bashi-bazouks, and their pistol-stocks and daggerhilts fairly glittered with the clusters of pearls, corals, and precious stones which decorated them. They were powerfully built men, evidently mountaineers, and probably brigand chiefs, Fred thought. The men were so passive that the boys had time to think a little about the situation, while their observers stood regarding them with the utmost coolness, as though they already had them pinioned captives. Singularly enough, they were without rifles; this the boys noted at once. Either they "Well, all ruins are chiefly interesting on account of their history," was Fred's laconic rejoinder. "It was the most wonderful building of ancient times. Each of its one hundred and twenty-seven columns was the present of a king; there were beautiful folding doors of cypress-wood, and there was a staircase made of a single vine from the Island of Cyprus. Besides being a religious temple, it was the great treasury of Western Asia; there were times when it contained nearly as much wealth as the Bank of England holds nowadays. Alexander the Great offered to devote the spoils of his Eastern conquests to it, if he were allowed to place his name over the entrance; but the offer was declined. The Ephesians were so enthusiastic about it that the ladies of Ephesus contributed their jewelry toward the cost of building it." As Fred concluded, he leaped down upon the had none at all, which was improbable, or they marble pavement several feet below. "Come down here, Ben!" he called, "may be we can find something worth taking home." The boys were soon in a long narrow pit which uncovered a strip of the ancient floor, and Fred was digging vigorously with the end of a tough root. Ben joined him with a commendable show of energy. "What if we should find a little silver shrine of Diana, such as we read about in the Bible?" proposed Ben. "I fancy all the silver about this building went to the mosques of Constantinople and the cathedrals of Italy, hundreds of years ago," replied Fred; but just then a shower of dirt disclosed a small object which upon examination proved to be a gold coin. "Luck has begun!" shouted Fred, much elated. Soon an exclamation of astonishment escaped both boys as something, which they had taken for a small square stone, broke away from the bank and fell at their feet. "Perhaps it's a treasure-box!" cried Ben. "It could n't be possible," said Fred, "that a treasure-box of that size could have escaped all the hands that have robbed this temple. But anyhow, we 've made a discovery," he continued, as he raised the object and began to dig away the rust. In a moment, Fred found himself cutting into solid silver; the box, too, proved to be very heavy. "If we can get this box away," resumed Fred, "our fortune is made. May be it holds some relic or had left them at some point close by. "We must get out of this pit first," said Fred, under his breath. "Then we can make a dash for our guns, and if they send a pistol-shot after us, we'll pepper 'em back. Don't let them get hold of you, Ben, for you see what giants they are.” If the brigands, for such they undoubtedly were, had any suspicion that two youngsters like Fred and Ben would dare do anything but peaceably surrender, they failed to show it. Obviously they had been accustomed to having things their own way; as yet they had been content with making an imperative sign for the boys to come out of the pit. Their cool audacity aroused Ben's anger, which was all that was needed to overcome his first and natural trepidation. With the agility of trained sailors, the boys swung themselves out of the pit about a dozen yards from where the brigands stood. "Now is the time!" cried Fred, as they made a dash for their guns, which the brigands had not yet discovered. There were two sharp reports and two pistolballs sung so close to our heroes' heads that they could feel the thrill of the atmosphere along their track. Another, and still another shot followed, the last carrying away a piece of Fred's collar and grazing Ben's right shoulder. Suddenly the firing ceased, and the brigands started after the boys at a tremendous pace. Evidently their ammunition was gone, and by this time they had discovered the boys' plan and their |