ss
disappointments in his efforts to approach the object of his affection.
The gorgeous plaids were now his own (or a large part of them, anyway),
and upon reaching the quiet room wherein he lodged he gloated long and
happily over its vivid coloring and violent contrasts of its glowing
hues. To the eyes of the Woggle-Bug nothing could be more beautiful,
and he positively regretted the necessity of ever turning his gaze from
this bewitching treasure.

That he might never in the future be separated from the checks, he
folded them, with many loving caresses, into compact form, and wrapped
them in a sheet of stout paper tied with cotton cord that had a
love-knot at the end. Wherever he went, thereafter, he carried the
parcel underneath his left upper arm, pressed as closely to his heart
as possible. And this sense of possession was so delightful that our
Woggle-Bug was happy as the day is long.

In the evening his fortunes changed with cruel abruptness.

He walked out to take the air, and noticing a crowd people standing in
an open space and surrounding a huge brown object, our Woggle-Bug
stopped to learn what the excitement was about.

Pushing his way through the crowd, and hugging his precious parcel, he
soon reached the inner circle of spectators and found they had
assembled to watch a balloon ascension. The Professor who was to go up
with the balloon had not yet arrived; but the balloon itself was fully
inflated and tugging hard at the rope that held it, as if anxious to
escape the blended breaths of the people that crowded around. Just
below the balloon was a small basket, attached to the netting of the
gas-bag, and the Woggle-Bug was bending over the edge of this, to see
what it contained, when a warning cry from the crowd caused him to
pause and glance over his shoulder.

Great horrors and crumpled creeps! Springing toward him, with a scowl
on his face and a long knife with a zig-zag blade in his uplifted hand,
was that very Chinaman from whose body he had torn the Wagnerian
plaids!

The plundered Celestial was evidently vindictive, and intended to push
the wicked knife into the Woggle-Bug's body.

Our hero was a brave bug, as can easily be proved; but he did not wait
for the knife to arrive at the broad of his back. Instead, he gave a
yell (to show he was not afraid) and leaped nimbly into the basket of
the balloon. The descending knife, missing its intended victim, fell
upon the rope and severed it, and in