haste, and by and by came out with E. E.'s little black dog in
his arms.

E. E. reached out her arms, but Cecilia snatched it from her father.
That moment a policeman went by, and E. E. leaned through the carriage
window.

"Why, Dempster, you have forgotten to see the policeman."

Dempster followed the man, diving one hand down into his pocket. I saw
him draw out some money, which the man took; then poor Dempster came
back on a run, and plunged into the carriage.

"Drive on--drive on, I say--or we'll be too late for the Long Branch
boat!"

The man did drive on, but E. E. jerked the check-string.

"Oh, husband, do oblige me just this once--I have left my longest back
braid on the bureau!"

"No," says Dempster, "I'll be--"

I put my hand over Dempster's mouth.

"Dempster," says I, "if you ever want to be a Christian, this is the
place to begin in, for here patience can have its perfect work."

My gentle rebuke had its effect. Dempster got out of the carriage, and
once more mounted those stone steps.

By and by he came back with a long braid of hair trailing from his hand.
Then he planted his foot on the carriage step with decision, and says
he:

"Drive on!" which the man did.

LXXVIII.

THAT HAIR-TRUNK.

Dear sisters:--We are here at Long Branch, bag and baggage--Cousin
Dempster, E. E., myself, and that creature Cecilia, who is more trouble
than the whole of us put together. We came down in--not on--the
_Plymouth Rock_, which is nothing of the sort, but a steamboat, as long
as all out-doors, with room enough for a camping-ground for the next
generation on the decks, and rows of staterooms that would line the main
street of Sprucehill on both sides, and have some to let. There was a
whole lot of fiddlers and horn-players on board that began to play the
minute we came in sight--a compliment that I should feel more deeply if
it hadn't become so common; but somehow wherever I go, those musical
fellows start up, and grind and blow till one almost begins to wish for
the privacy of an obscure position.

Fame is beautiful, and reputation is the glory of genius; but when they
are sounded out by fiddles in broad daylight, and blasted over creation
by wide-mouthed toot-horns, innate modesty shrinks within itself.

I really felt this way when a squad of music-grinders burst out in high
jubilee the moment my foot touched the deck. It was a compliment, of
course, but the sun was pouring down upon us, hot