they may, Gerald had thought it more prudent to forego the usual weekly petition for that modicum of cash which is supposed to be an absolute necessity for a young boy's happiness.

Then there was silence. During the conversation the two friends had been walking slowly towards the Albury mansion. Just as they arrived at the alley between it and the next house, a Jew

"I didn't, for sure," asserted Gerald. "But why?"

his one-horse wagon into the alley from the street. There were five or six rough sacks of old rags on the wagon. The

"Cause I gobbled up Martha's custards Saturday," and Gerald began to laugh at the remembrance of his stolen feast.

"What has that to do with your pocket-money?"

"Lots! If he found out that I wouldn't get any quarters or dimes for all vacation, most likely. Mamma's true blue. She said she wouldn't split on me, but, I-am-not-so-sure of Martha. She ain't mamma, you know."

This quaint speech certainly displayed Gerald's filial loyalty, but it was not satisfactory to young Granville.

"Silly! you can't have two mothers. Martha's your cook, ain't she?"

"Yes, she is. I am not so silly either. Didn't Father James say Sunday afternoon in catechism class, that we had two mothers, one our earthly mother, and one our heavenly mother in heaven."

"But Martha isn't in heaven, and you can't have two mothers on earth anyway," said John Ignatius, triumphantly, and continued, "but say, Gerald, how are we going to get some live bait?"

"Why did you not get your pocket money?" asked Gerald.

"I don't get any on Mondays. Papa gives me mine on Thursdays, and it don't last till Monday."

"All gone?"

"Every cent."

"Well, what are we going to do?" "Dunno."

the boys had often heard before. They knew him by sight, and imitated his call. He happened to be a rather good-natured Semite, and merely smiled at the boys. And, besides, Martha was a good customer of his.

To-day, however, he did not stop at the alley gate of the Albury residence. The alley was unpaved and quite uneven. Suddenly, as the wagon gave a lurch, one of the bags fell off. The Jew was not aware of his loss.

A telegraphic glance passed between John and Gerald. As quick, almost, as thought, the two boys had lifted the sack and thrown it over the garden gate. The Jew kept on his way in blissful ignorance. As soon as the two boys were in the garden Granville looked at Gerald to see what he was going to do.

"Wait a minute," said that worthy; "untie the sack-quick-and empty it out. I'll be back in a minute. I know where there's another old bag in the wood-shed."

Gerald ran off and soon returned with another sack. The two then rapidly filled it with the old rags, taking the precaution to put the original sack in the new one before the rags.

"Make haste now, and tie it up," said Gerald, "and I'll look out for Moses." To their delight they saw the pedler was returning.

"Say, mister, do you want to buy some old rags?" asked Gerald.

"Yes, boys, I'll buy them. How much do you want for them?"

"A dollar," said Gerald, at a venture,

not having the remotest idea of their value. The good-natured Jew burst out laughing.

"Here boys; let me weigh them on. my scales. I get good rags from this house always. There! I give you thirty-five cents for them."

"What! sack and all?" asked Gerald.

"Well, boys, the sack is pretty good. I'll make it forty cents." "All right."

After Gerald had received the money, the pedler said:

"Now you boys lift that sack into the wagon for me, eh? I'm getting old."

As soon as the sack was loaded on the wagon the two boys departed in haste for the river. When they were gone, the Jew looked at his load on the wagon, and was surprised to find that he had the same number of sacks as when he turned into the alley.

"That is strange," he said to himself, in the peculiar dialect of his race and calling. "I thought I had six sacks before, and I have only six now!"

A sudden suspicion entered his mind. He untied the sack of his last purchase, and at once discovered that he had been buying his own rags. He was a goodnatured old fellow, and took the trick sensibly, remarking as he drove out of the alley into the main thoroughfare:

"Those boys are pretty smart. They will be rich men by and bye. They are pretty smart!"

John and Gerald bought their minnows and had a good afternoon's fishing, each bringing home quite a string of perch. Now it so happened that some one near the Albury mansion had seen the whole affair of the rag selling. Only the sudden decamping of the two youngsters had prevented an immediate denouement, and its accompanying humiliation. By the time that Gerald arrived at home after a long summer afternoon on the water, it was growing dusk. Of course the boy was desperately hungry. He was met by his father.

"Gerald?"

"Yes, pa."

"Been fishing?" "Yes, pa."

"Much luck?"

"Yes, pa; fifteen perch and a walleye."

"Good day for fly fishing?"

"Didn't use flies, pa."

"Live bait? minnows?”
"Yes, pa."

"You did not get your pocket-money this morning, Gerald. You did not get credit for the bait?"

"No, sir; we paid for the minnows." "Granville paid for them?"

"No, pa; that is, we both paid for them."

"How? I don't understand."

The reader understands. We charitably draw a veil over Master Gerald Gregory Albury's painful humiliation this time. For some time after he really preferred to walk about rather than sit down. But then you know boys are peculiar sometimes. When he retired to bed that night he lay on his left side, a position some say conducive to nightmare. Well, there's no accounting for the taste of some boys!

After the painful period of penance and punishment had passed; after having "pumped" all his brothers and sisters to find out who "told on him;" and after having satisfied himself that neither mother nor Martha had a hand in giving the information; and also, to his surprise, finding out that the Jew had not reported the affair, what was Gerald's surprise to learn that the information had come to Judge Albury from the father of his fellow conspirator. Mr. Granville had, by chance, been a witness of the whole transaction from a window in the rear of his own house. That afternoon he had stepped into the Judge's court room and had given him a detailed account of their sons' delinquencies.

(To be continued.)

HETLAND people have been purely Norse for so long that they have not yet become in any sense Scotch. They talk a charmingly pure English, with a soft accent of their own, know and repeat Norse legends (the only people in the British Isles, we believe, who do), and have their own particular breed of ponies and of little sheep, and their native manufacture of wool. It is a notable fact that however naturally poor an island is, its inhabitants nearly always make the very most of whatever natural advantages it has. This is true from the Channel, where the Jerseymen have produced the best breed of milk cattle in the world, to the farthest extent of the Shetland Archipelago, where the people have turned even the diminutive size of their ponies to advantage by selling them as specialties for use in the colliery workings, and have made the exquisite fleecy wool of their little sheep famous throughout the world. The fisheries of the islands were always most important. The "haaf" fishing, which is solemnly blessed by the clergy when the boats set

out, is so called from the open boats, or "haafs," in which it is conducted. These are quite small, and hold not more than three tons of fish.

But the latest development of the natural industry of the islands is the herring fishery, which until late years was rather neglected because the large fish, such as cod, ling, coal-fish, and lythe, had been mainly sought as winter food. The cod fishery was pursued in mere skiffs compared, with the bif-boats or the doubledecked boats of the mainland of Scotland. Lately, however, the Shetlanders have increased the size of their boats and altered their build. In 1879, there were only six large herring-boats in Shetland. There are now over three hundred, and the number is still increasing, notwithstanding the dangerous nature of this fishery as illustrated by many a sad and crushing calamity. A terrible northwest gale broke over the Shetland district in the middle of the summer of 1881; fifty-eight fishermen were drowned and ten boats lost completely, while on other parts of the coast one hundred and thirty-four fishermen

touch the cliffs and crags.

Around the points and promontories there are, in many places, strong currents rushing over submerged rocks. These are called "races." When the waves break, they are apt to fill and swamp the boats, which cannot ride over the white water. To calm the surface,

was once the headquarters of the old whaling fleets, is now a great rendezvous of the northern herring fleet. There may be seen, in its comparatively safe harbor, almost every type of herringboat used, from Cornwall to Wick. Many of these put their catches on board steamers; but there is also a large cur