"I am talking about the Pike," said his grandfather, in answer to Dug's question. "Where does it go to?" asked Dug. "It goes farther away than you can think. But you will know when you are big enough, for then you can think farther. It goes away down East. And then there is another road, and you can go clear to New York on the Pike." "Some day I will go," said Dug. "I would like to go to New York on the Pike."

But now they had to go home for dinner. Dug crawled down backward for a while, and when he came to a safe place he rolled for a while, and then he ran for a while. And when he was down to the road he walked. As they went along toward home the old man tried to teach Dug all about O. But Dug found it hard to learn that. So when they came to a pottery again they went in. His grandfather took some of the gray clay and rolled it out like a short, fat snake. Then he made a circle of it and fastened the ends together.

"Put that in the oven and bake it with the crockery," he said to the potter. "Some day we will call for it. I want to give it to Dug, so that he will know it." Then they hurried away home, without stopping to look at anything else.

And this is only a little of what I could tell you about this place. The queerest thing

about it is that the people are always digging up the ground and sending it away to other towns. They dig up clay to make bricks; and a different kind to make crocks and jars and vases for the mantel; and sand to make glass and to mold iron; and limestone to make plaster and whitewash; and sandstone for buildings. And so most of the tile floors you see, and many of the vases on the mantels, are just pieces of Zanesville; and there are whole buildings in other cities that have come over the Y bridge-in loads of brick, of course. Dug's uncle was taking down a hill. He had shoveled away a vineyard and sent about half the hill away on the cars to places where they needed the stone. I do not know what will become of that town if they keep on doing it. Maybe they will dig the town from under themselves; and then there will be nothing but the Y bridge, and no people to go across it.

As they finally went into the garden gate Dug said, "Grandfather, take me out after dinner and show me an O bridge.”

THE bell on the old schoolhouse was sending forth its final summons for the morning session, warning the more deliberate ones that within two minutes more they must all be in their seats or a much dreaded "tardy mark" would be charged against the conduct account of each, and as usual" Pinkey" Perkins and "Bunny" Morris were among the last of those who had gathered up their marbles and started for the schoolhouse.

As they, with a few other stragglers, passed around the corner of the schoolhouse and started up the stone steps which led to the hall door, something caught Pinkey's eye and he stopped short.

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'Gee, fellers,” he exclaimed, pointing toward the road which ran past the schoolhouse yard, "lookee comin' down the street."

Bunny and the others looked in the direction Pinkey had pointed and what they saw surprised them as much as it had Pinkey. There in the middle of the road, slowly plodding along in the dust, was a tired-looking man, evidently a foreigner, bending under the weight of a large hand-organ and leading an equally tired and very inoffensive-looking bear. Perched upon bruin's shaggy, docile back, and looking jauntily about him, was a gaudily dressed monkey.

"Wish 't we had time to hear 'im play," said Bunny regretfully; "has n't been one o' those shows around here for more 'n a year now."

"I know what I 'm goin' to do," observed Pinkey as a bright idea struck him, "I'm going to motion to him to come over into the yard and play, and 'f he does, then maybe we can see 'em out of the window."

Those about seemed to think that this would be a good move, and Pinkey at once placed his two forefingers in his mouth, and uttered a

shrill whistle to attract the man's attention. When he saw that his effort had been successful, Pinkey beckoned to the musician to come over into the yard, and then made motions as though he were turning a crank.

While this performance had been going on, the other boys had all entered the schoolhouse, fearing they would be late, and without being able to tell whether or not his invitation had been accepted, Pinkey had barely time enough to rush madly into the hall, hang his cap on its hook and reach his seat in the schoolroom before "Red Feather," the teacher, tinkled her little desk bell to announce that school had "taken up." Several of the pupils had seen the wandering trio from the windows and had barely torn themselves away in time to reach their seats as Pinkey did.

"Children," announced Red Feather, severely, "all those who did not go promptly to their seats when the bell started to ring will have five taken from their conduct mark on this month's report card.”

When the opening exercises began, all those who knew of Pinkey's attempt to entice the man into the schoolhouse yard were on the alert for any indications that his efforts had been successful. They listened in vain for several minutes, and then, just as the singing was about over, their keen ears caught the sound of a few stray notes from the handorgan, which told them that the invitation had been accepted.

Suddenly, the music broke forth and the pupils without exception craned their necks in vain endeavor to get a glimpse of the serenaders, but the height of the windows above the ground and the distance of the desks from the windows, made it impossible to see anything. Red Feather was on her feet in an instant,

and lost no time in reaching the nearest window to see what was the meaning of such a commotion.

Pinkey and Bunny and two or three others were so overcome by their desire to see the antics of monkey and bear that they could not keep their seats, and before they realized what they were doing, they had risen to their feet and were trying to see into the yard.

tones: "Go away from here! Begone, I say! Leave this yard at once; you disturb my school. If you do not leave at once, I shall have you taken away." She did not say upon whom would fall the burden of effecting the forcible removal.

There is not much doubt that the musician would have obeyed Red Feather's commands, and withdrawn at once, had he not noticed in

dications in the windows of the other rooms on that side of the building that his presence was looked upon with more or less favor. The other teachers, realizing how interesting such exhibitions are to children when they occur so infrequently, and that it would be useless to expect them to apply themselves to their studies at such a time, granted their pupils per

mission to go to the

Pinkey dropped into his seat as though he had been shot, and the others did likewise before Red Feather could speak to them by

name.

After a brief, stern survey of her flock, Red Feather continued: " Any pupil in this room whom I see trying to look out of the windows will be punished and punished severely. You may proceed with your lessons." Then raising the window, and leaning as far out as she safely could, she commanded in her sternest

window with abang and walked savagely back to her desk. She could not understand how some teachers could conduct school successfully and at the same time be so lax in their discipline.

From the shouts of delight which came faintly through the windows to the ears of Red Feather's pupils, it was evident to them that they were being robbed by pure selfishness of a pleasure to which they were entitled and which the other children were enjoying.

Once, during a particularly loud burst of applause, a few of the unfortunates so far forgot