wo. : A MODERN HERO.

They all turned to look at the tall stem, crowned —

by the unfolding calyx. “Jumior’s goin’ to be a
master-hand with flowers,” observed the mother.
* He saves me pretty nigh all the trouble-o’ takin’
keer of.’em. I’ve been thinkin’ that might be a
good business for him when he grows up.”

She was always forecasting his future with more
anxiety than generally enters into maternal hopes
and fears. When but a year old, he had fallen from
the arms of a neighbor who had caught him up from
the floor in a fit of tipsy fondness. The child’s
‘back and hip were severely injured. He had not

walked a step until he was five years of age, and.

would be lame always... He was now twelve—a
‘dwarf in statue, hump-backed, weazen-faced and
‘shrill-voiced, unsightly in all eyes but those of his
parents. To them he was a miracle of precocity
and beauty. His mother took in fine ironing to
pay for his private-tuition from a public school-
teacher who lived inthe neighborhood. He learned
fast and eagerly. His father, at the teacher’s sug-
gestion, subscribed to a circulating library and the
same kind friend selected books for the cripple’s
reading. There was a hundred dollars in the-sav-
ings bank, against the name of “ Topliffe Briggs,
Junior,” deposited, dollar by dollar, and represent-
ing countless acts of self-denial on the part of the
industrious couple, and his possible profession was
‘a favorite theme of family converse.

“ For that matter, there’s lot o’ things a scholard

like him ken do,” rejoined Top, Senior, with affec-

tionate confidence in his heir’s talents and acquire-
ments. ‘’Tain’t like ’twould be with a feller like
me whose arms an’ legs is his hull stock in trade.
‘Why, I min’ seein’ a leetle rat of a man come on
‘board one time ’scorted by a dozen ’o the biggest
bugs in the city, an’ people a-stretchin’ their necks
‘out o’ j’int to ketch a look of him. Sech a mealy-
faced, weak-lookin’ atomy he was! But millions 0’
people was a-readin’ that very day a big speech
he’d made in Washin’ton, an’ he’d saved the coun-
try from trouble more ’n oncet. He mought ’a’
been President ef he had chose torun. That’s the
good o’ hevin’ a tiptop head-piece.”’

“T’ve made up my mind!” said Top, Junior,
with anair. “I’m goin’ tobe aHero! Like Julius
Cesar an’ Alexander an’ William Tell an’ Captain
John Smith, an’ other men I’ve read about. I wish

you would be a Hero, father! It’s ever so much
nicer than runnin’ an engine. Won’t you—please!

need a bite at the Agapolis deepo.

You are strong enough and good enough for any:
thing, an? I’m sure you know a great deal about
things!”

The blue eyes were bright and wistful, his hand
stole up to the bushy whiskers, ginger-colored from
exposure to the air and boiler-heat.

“ Me,ahero! Haw! haw!” roared the engineer,
letting fall his knife and fork in his merriment.
“ 7’dcuta figger at the head of an army, or speakin’
in Congress, or a-setten’ on a gold throne, wouldn’t
I? No! no! my man! ” sobering down suddenly,
into a sort of sad dignity. “Ver father ain’t got
the brains nor the eddication for nothin’ of that
kind! All he ken do is to live clean an’ honest
in the sight o’ the Lord, an’ to rur his i ingine *cor-
din’ to the best o’ his lights.”

“The Lord’s too reasortabte to expect more of
yen? ’n to. do your duty in the place where’s He’s ‘put
you,” said the wife gently.

*.“Thopeheis, Mother! Ef he looked for more —~
or for any big thing ’s fur as that goes, the chances
are He’d be disapp’inted. I hev plenty o’ time fur
thinkin’ while we’re scootin’ ’cross the level coun-
try an’ creepin’ up steep grades, an’ I’ve worked it
out to my own satisfaction that somethin’ else I’ve
got to be thankful fur, is that my way in life’s been
marked down so plain. ’Seems if I hed been sot
onto rails pretty much’s She is, an’ ’s long ez I do
my level best on that ’ar line, why, it’s all I hen do.
That’s the hull.of it! I ain’t no speechifier, you
see, Junior ”? — with an embarrassed laugh at the
boy’s evident discontent —“T’ll hev to depen’ on
you fur to say it— or maybe, write done ship-shape,
some 0’ these notions o’ mine, some day. I’d git
better holt o’ them myself ef I was to hear some-
body what knowed how to put things go over ’em.
Mother! eddication wouldn’t learn no woman how
to make better bread’n yourn. Fact is, there’s-
nothin’ ekal to home, an home-vittles an’ home- -
folks! With such a livin’ ez I’ve took in, I sha’n’t
We’re half an
hour there, but I hate the very smell o’ them eatin’
houses! An’ please God! I’ll bring Her in at
twelve — sharp!”

He pulled on his overcoat and felt in the pocket
for his gloves. ‘“ I’m.main proud o’ them fellers !”
he said, fitting one to a hand half the size of a leg
of mutton and not unlike it in shape.

He had said the same thing every time he put them
on since Christmas. They were a holiday gift from