n can of course
tell us what it is that Harvard University possesses which is
unsurpassed in any other part of the world."

Hannah looked chagrined.

"You do not know?" went on Uncle Bob teasingly. "Oh, for shame! And you
such an ardent Bostonian! Well, so far as I can see there is nothing
for it but for me to take you all three to Cambridge as fast as ever we
can get there. Such ignorance is deplorable."

You may be very sure that during the ride out from the city every means
was employed to get Uncle Bob to tell what particular wonder he was to
display. At last, driven to desperation by Jean's persistent questions,
he answered:

"I will tell you just one fact. The things we are going to see are made
of glass."

"Glass! But we have already seen everything that ever could be made
from glass, Uncle Bob," cried Jean in dismay.

"No, we haven't."

"Is it stained glass windows?"

"No."

"Mosaics?"

"No."

"A telescope?"

"No."

"What is it, Uncle Bob?"

"Never you mind. You would never guess if you guessed a lifetime. You
better give it up," was Mr. Cabot's smiling answer.

Cambridge was soon reached, and after a walk through the College Yard
that Giusippe might have a peep at Holworthy, where Uncle Bob had spent
his student days, the sightseers entered a quiet old brick building and
were led by Mr. Cabot into a room where stood case after case of
blooming flowers. There were garden blossoms of every variety, wild
flowers, tropical plants, all fresh and green as if growing. And yet
they were not growing; instead they lay singly or in clusters, each
bloom as perfect as if just cut from the stalk.

"How beautiful! Oh, Uncle Bob, it is like a big greenhouse!" exclaimed
Jean.

"This is what I brought you to see."

"But you said we were coming to see something made of glass," objected
Giusippe.

"You did say so, Uncle Bob."

"Behold, even as I said!"

"Bu-u-t, these flowers are not glass. What do you mean?"

"On the contrary, my unbelieving friends, glass is precisely what they
are made of. Every blossom, every leaf, every bud, every seed here is
the work of an expert glass-maker."

Mr. Cabot watched their faces, enjoying their incredulity.

"_Glass_!"

"Even so. Shall I tell you about it?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"This collection of flowers is called the Ware Collection, the name
being bestowed out of compliment to Mrs. and Miss Ware, who generously
donated much of the money for which to pay for i