[CHAPTER IV.]
THE BOMB.
"THIS, I think, must be my little Julia's story," said Mr. Presgrave, taking up a sheet of foolscap, neatly ruled, and covered with large round text.
"O uncle!" cried the child, laughing and blushing. "I am almost ashamed to give it in. I cannot write like the others—I never wrote anything so long before, and yet it will seem very short."
"You have done your best, my darling!" replied Mr. Presgrave, fondly passing his hand over her curly locks, "And no one can do any more. A short story may have a long moral, and so—let us proceed to your tale."
With good-natured smiles, and some little curiosity, the party listened to the story of the youngest in their circle, while Julia hid her merry little face on the knee of her Uncle Presgrave.
Julia's Tale.
THE BOMB.
"THERE was a fight between the English and the Russians. Cannons were roaring and bullets were flying, but the brave men on board the English ship 'Hecla' fought on, and were not afraid. All on a sudden, down fell a great bomb on the deck, all ready to blow up, and kill every one near it. A young seaman, called Lucas, caught hold of the bomb, lifted it, and flung it into the sea!"
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