"Oh dear," he exclaimed, "my coat's there, and in the pocket is a letter. That boat's going right out to the British. They must not get it."
"Swim on," said George. "I'll go back for it. Shout when you reach the shore."
The shape of the boat could just be seen; he swung about and put after it, arm over arm.
[to be continued.]
[GOOD TIMES AT THE HORSE SHOW.]
BY WALTER CLARK NICHOLS.
It was really the young people who enjoyed most keenly the eleventh annual Horse Show in New York two weeks ago. Even the horses could have told you that; for the best-bred and wisest among all the well-bred and wise ones that were there on exhibition knew that it was in the daytime, when the boys and girls were out in force, that they, the horses, received the undivided attention.
It was all very brilliant in the evening, when the glittering lights around the vast dome of the great Garden gleamed upon the red, yellow, and white bunting, and shone down on a wonderful scene of splendor—beautiful women in gorgeous gowns, handsome men in evening dress, in the seats—thousands and thousands of them—and a thick crowd of people constantly moving around the promenade surrounding the large tan-bark arena. But it was so brilliant and so crowded that few people could or would see the horses. They came to see and be seen, and many a prize-winning horse must have felt very discontented at not receiving the attention which he felt due to him.