A VISITOR.
Rollo put down two or three branches very well, and was very much delighted at seeing it gradually begin to look like a house, when he thought he heard a voice. He listened a moment, and heard some one at a distance calling, “Rol—lo. Rol—lo.”
Rollo dropped his hatchet, and looked in the direction that the sound came from, and called out as loud as he could, “What!”
“Where—are—you?” was heard in reply.
Rollo answered, “Here,” and then immediately clambered along over the bridge, and ran through the woods until he came out into the open field; and there he saw a small boy, away off at a distance, just coming through the turn-stile.
It was his cousin James. It seems that James had come to play with him that day, and Rollo’s mother had directed him down towards the woods.
James came running along towards Rollo, holding up something round and bright, in each hand. They were half dollars.
“Where did you get them?” said Rollo.
“One is for you, and one is for me,” said James. “Uncle George sent them to us.”
“What a beautiful little eagle!” said Rollo, as he looked at one side of his half dollar; “I wish I could get it off and keep it separate.”