"Why, so you can," said Jimmieboy. "I never thought of that."

"Of course you didn't. You haven't got the kind of mind that thinks that kind of thoughts," sneered the merboy. "You people think you are great when you are able to sit at your breakfast tables in New York on Friday morning and talk about what has happened in London that same Friday afternoon--and it is rather smart to be able to do that, I admit--but what do you know about what has been going on in Sealadelphia, or Sharkargo, or Whalington, or Moss-bunkerton? Not a thing, I'll warrant.

But these sea creatures know all you know, and all their own news besides. So, you see, when a land-sage begins swapping knowledge with a sea-sage he finds himself 'way behind."

"And what was the story about the Porpoise and the Land-sage?" asked Jimmieboy.

"Well, as I remember it," said the merboy, "it went this way:

"THE PORPOISE AND THE LAND-SAGE.

"A Land-sage once, who thought he knew All that there was to know, Went out to sea without a crew, And floated to and fro.

And then, before he was aware Just what he was about, A fearful wind did straightway tear His jib and mainsail out.

"I'm all at sea!" he moaned and cried; "Oh dear, what shall I do!

Would that I'd never come outside Without my gallant crew."

Just as he spoke a Porpoise came.

The Land-sage cried, "What, ho!

Where are you from, and what's your name?

Hullo there, you! Hullo!"

"What do you wish?" the Porpoise said In accents soft and meek.

"I'd like to be at home in bed-- What language do you speak?"

"Sea-doggerel," the Porpoise then Made answer with a grin, "Unless I speak with Englishmen, And then I speak in Finn."

"Perhaps," the Land-sage then observed, "You can enlighten me By telling me-- I'm much unnerved-- Just where I chance to be."

"Of course I can," the fish said. "You, I think 'tis very clear, Are out of sight of Manitou And just about off here."

"Pray do not mock me," quoth the sage; "I'm truly badly off, And 'tis not right one of your age At one like me should scoff.

I am the most enlightened man That e'er the world did see; So help me home, sir, if you can, And tell me where I be."

"You make me laugh," the Porpoise said.

"Why should you come to me?

If you've all knowledge in your head, I truly cannot see Why you should ask a Porpoise, who Is ignorant and plain, What in this instance you should do To get back home again?

"But I will tell you what I'll do: If you will shed some light Upon a few things--one or two-- I'll get you back all right."

"A bargain!" cried the Land-sage, loud.

"I pray you do begin."

"I will," the Porpoise said, and bowed.

"Why do you wear a chin?

"Why have you hair upon your head?

And why do men wear cuffs?

And why are cannon-crackers red?

And why is cream in puffs?

Why can't you swim on mountain-tops?

And why is water wet?

And why don't hens, like lambs, have chops?

And why don't roosters set?"

"The Land-sage paled as to his cheek.

"I cannot say," said he.

"Then why does Friday come each week?

And why do maids drink tea?

Oh tell me why all kittens mew?

And why do little boys, When with their daily tasks they're through, Make such a dreadful noise?

"The Porpoise waited for the sage To answer, but in vain.

It filled the wise man full of rage To have to flunk again.

Whereat the Porpoise, with a sneer And very scornful glance, Remarked: "You're very dull, I fear.

I'll give you one more chance.

"Tell me one thing I never heard In all my life before, And I will pa.s.s to you my word To see you safe ash.o.r.e.

But don't be rash, oh, sage," said he.

"Take all the time you need To think of what to tell me That's truly new indeed."

"The Land-sage thought and thought all day, He thought the long night through, But not an idea came his way That he was sure was new; And finally, in great despair, He thought that he would see What could be done to ease his care By simple flattery.

"And so he spoke, "Oh, Mr. P----, Oh, Porpoise, sleek and trim, The thought has just occurred to me My wisdom's rather slim; But I believe a creature that 'S as beautiful as you Can't have the heart to let a flat Like me die in the blue."

"You think me so?" the Porpoise said.

"I do!" the sage replied.

"You have the purest cla.s.sic head I ever have espied.

Your eyes are truly lovely, And your mouth is full of grace, And nothing n.o.bler can one see Than is your n.o.ble face."

"The Land-sage ceased; the Porpoise smoled And winked his eyes of blue.

"You've won, professor. You have told Me something truly new.

I never heard my beauty praised In all my life before."

And then his good right fin he raised And towed the sage ash.o.r.e."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

MISS APPOLINA'S CHOICE.

BY AGNES LITTLETON.

Part I.

Outside, the house was simply one of a long row of brownstone houses which line many of the New York streets, but the room in which Millicent Reid was sitting this fine spring afternoon had an individuality of its own.

"The girls" were Millicent and Joanna Reid.

Millicent was nearly seventeen, and with her cousin Peggy, who lived across the street, studied with a governess and various masters, but Joanna, or Joan, as she was frequently called, went to school. At this very moment she burst into the room, carrying a pile of school books, which she flung on the table with a resounding crash.

"It is to be on the 30th of April, and we are all asked to send just as much as we can, and Mrs. Pearson said anything would do," said Joanna, as she pulled off her gloves.