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LITTLE BRITOMARTIS.

BY ALICE MAUDE EDDY.

"BUT there was a maiden knight once!" said Letty, with her brown eyes full of tears.

"Sir Lancelot" and "Sir Gareth," otherwise Jack and Harry, paused in their tilt, and gazed at their little sister in amazement.

"There was," persisted Letty, resolutely, though with a quivering lip. "I read all about her in one of Papa's books. Her name was Britomartis, and she had long golden hair that fell down when she took her helmet off, and- and she conquered everybody."

"Go on and tell us all about it," said Harry, dropping his sword. Letty was always finding entertaining stories in books that neither of the boys would have thought of opening. It was she who had told them about the Round Table, and had set them to reading for themselves the wonderful adventures of Lancelot and Gareth, of Tristram, and Galahad, and Alisander. It was rather hard that she should be shut out from the fascinating games that grew out of these researches into the "Morte d'Arthur," simply because she was a girl. The boys were quite willing that their sister should take the part of the distressed lady for whom they should fight; but sitting on a ragbag and crying out, "Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou flower of knighthood, succor a forlorn lady!" was entirely beneath Letty's ambition, and even the more active part of gracefully waving a handkerchief during a tournament, and tying her hairribbon about the helmet of the conqueror, failed to satisfy her desires. It was with a decided sense of injury that Letty went on with her story.

"Yes, she conquered every knight that she fought, and she was always helping ladies and everybody that needed her, and she was the strongest and most beautiful knight in Fairy-land." "Fairy-land!" exclaimed Harry. "Was it just a fairy story? That does n't count!"

"It was lovely poetry!" said Letty, indignantly, "and King Arthur was in it too, so it counts just as much as anything."

"If it was poetry, it was n't true," said Jack, conclusively. "I thought it did n't sound very true! Great idea that of a woman conquering all the knights! I'd just like to see a girl that was braver than a boy! Come, Harry, let's go on playing! 'Gay Sir Knight, wilt thou ride a tilt with me?"" And the boys careered wildly about the garret on their invisible chargers, leaving Letty to amuse herself as she could until school-time.

It was a beautiful May morning. The grass along the roadside was white with daisies, as the children ran to school. Tilts and tournaments were forgotten, under the clear blue sky, with the soft wind tossing Letty's fair hair, while Jack chased butterflies, and Harry blew off the feathery dandeliontops to see which way he should go to seek his fortune. They stopped as they passed the railway bridge to look at the lily-pads in the marshy water below it, and to prophesy how long it would be before they could come there to gather the lilies; and then they went on to school as usual.

They did not dream that none of the three would ever pass that place in the same careless way again, nor that the commonplace row of railway sleepers would be made beautiful for them forever after that day by a deed that was finer and fairer than even the snowy lilies which blossomed below it in the summer-time.

They had just reached the turn of the road which passed the bridge, on their way home, that afternoon, when Letty heard a child's cry. A very little girl, not more than four years old, stood in the middle of the bridge looking helplessly from one bank to the other. It was not a long distance across, and the water below was not deep, but the child was evidently frightened, and it was not in Letty's nature to pass any one in trouble without trying to help.

"What's the matter?" she called. "Wait a minute, boys! How did she ever get there?"

"I can't get off," wailed the child. "I'm afraid. Oh, please come and help me!"

"Stand still, then, and I will," called Letty again, beginning to step carefully from one sleeper to another.

Jack and Harry never forgot the next few minutes. It seemed as if a flash of lightning had engraved the whole picture on their hearts, so vividly could they recall it long after.

The railway track made a sharp turn out of the woods across the bridge, and passed them leading down toward the village. The afternoon sun shone through the trees on the farther bank, and flecked with light the little figure of the sobbing child, who was waiting for Letty. She had on a pink apron, and her hair was brown and curly. Jack noticed a great red butterfly over Letty's head as she stepped on the third sleeper. Then a rumbling sound, growing louder and louder, beyond made him cry out in terror, to his sister:

"Letty! Letty! come back! The train! the and poetry does count, too, and you can have train!" my sword and be any knight you please, and I'll never be mean to you again. So there, now!"

There it was, like a great fiery dragon, sweeping around the turn; and there was Letty on the bridge, and the little girl nearer to the opposite shore. It all happened in a moment. Letty gave a great gasp. The boys heard it, and saw her pause as if to turn back, and then, full in the face of the coming train, timid Letty sprang on toward the stranger child, and caught her in her arms, just as the engine, which had slackened speed, but could not stop before reaching them, rolled upon the bridge. Harry screamed wildly; Jack shut his eyes and dropped on the grass with a great sob. There was a rush and rumble, which seemed ages long, a shriek from the engine, and then the place was still again. When Jack opened his eyes he saw that the train had stopped as soon as it reached the shore; that a brakeman, with Harry following him, was half-way down the bridge; and beyond them Jack saw Letty herself, but crouched on

the sleepers outside the track, with the brown head of the other child lying on her arm. They were both very still. "Dead!" thought Jack, with a sudden wild feeling that he loved Letty dearly, and wanted her to be with him all his life, and that he had not been kind to her that morning in the garret.

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'Mamma," said Harry, afterward, "when we got them off the bridge and found they were n't either of them hurt, but only terribly frightened, Jack and I both sat down and cried! But Letty was crying so hard herself that she did n't notice it; and don't you tell!"

That evening, as Letty lay pale and quiet, but very happy, in her bed, whither she had retired much earlier than usual, Jack stole in with his sword in his hand. It was a black-walnut sword, with a brown silk cord and tassel on the hilt, and Jack was very proud of it. He sat down on the other side of the bed and held it out to Letty, in an embarrassed manner.

"You're the bravest girl I ever heard of!" he said, hurriedly; "and I'll just own up and say that I never would have dared to do what you did, and besides, I think so much of you, Letty,

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Jack looked sheepish, but pleased.

"I'll dub you knight myself, if you like," he said. "People used to like to have Sir Lancelot dub them knight."

And so, with some laughter and much enjoyment, the ceremony was performed at once; and when Mamma came in, a few minutes later, she found the little maiden-l:night lying asleep, with the sword in her hand, and a look of such gladness in her face, that the tears sprung to the mother's eyes as she thought of what might have been.

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CHAPTER XVI.

HIS ONE FAULT.

BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE.

ELSIE BENTING was thrilled with something deeper than surprise by the expression of Kit's face and the tone of his voice.

"You are no more of a highwayman than my brothers?" she exclaimed. "Why, how can that be?"

"I took their horse," he said, "and now they have taken me. It's a mistake on both sides. I took the horse by mistake, and they have taken me by mistake, while I was on my way back with it to Peaceville." And his eyes beamed upon her with convincing candor.

"How could you ever make such a mistake as that?" she inquired, trying to remain incredulous, while her heart felt the earnest truthfulness which inspired such looks and tones.

"My uncle's horse had been stolen the night before, and I found it in one of the sheds at the cattle-show. I left a fellow to watch it - a scamp

named Branlow; I ought to have known better, but he used to work for my father, and he appeared so friendly that I thought I could trust him. I went to get something to eat, and when I came back he put me on the horse in the next shed, which he had saddled and bridled, instead of mine. It was quite dark; both horses are of nearly the same color; and I rode off in so great a hurry that I never noticed the difference until I reached home. I think now that it was Branlow who stole our horse, and that he played the trick on me, knowing just how big a blunderhead I am!"

"You a blunderhead?" said Elsie, with a smile at his eager, intelligent face.

He could not help smiling in return, rather ruefully, however.

"Does n't what I tell you prove it?" answered Kit. "If you had put me on the Peaceville racecourse yesterday, and picked out the champion blunderers of America to match me, I should have come out several lengths ahead. That's

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