hed for the
inside of the gate. They had to cut their way through a horde of
Chinamen as soon as they had gotten inside the town; but they finally
beat them off, and threw the bolts of the heavy gates, that were at once
shoved in by the attacking force outside. Both Lieutenant Mimura and
Private Harada were promoted the next day.

* * * * *

Two gentlemen had a rather lively dispute, which finally wound up in an
agreement to fight it out in a duel. One of the gentlemen was extremely
thin and the other stout. The stout gentleman complained that it would
be useless for him to fire at such a shadow, for one might as well
expect to hit the edge of a razor as to hit the man. Whereupon the lean
man made the proposal to chalk a line down the fat man, and if his shot
failed to take effect within the narrow side of the line it wouldn't
count.

GREAT MEN'S SONS.

THE SON OF LUTHER

BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.

[Illustration: Decorative H]

igh on a Saxon hill-side overlooking the pleasant valley of the Itz, and
in the shadow of the loftier Frankenwalds, stands an old castle now gray
with age and rich in memories. In one of its many guest rooms, near an
open window, about which crows and jackdaws hung with swirl and clamor,
there sat, many years ago, a stockily-built, firm-featured,
fearless-eyed man writing a letter.

Armed men fill the castle; upon its walls and on its highest turrets
watchmen stand on guard; above it floats the standard of the Elector of
Saxony; and the great gate opens only to the summons of those who come
with credentials or password.

The time is one of anxiety and excitement, for the Protestant Princes of
northern Germany have taken a bold stand against their lord the Emperor.
Messengers ride daily to and from the castle, and letters are sent now
this way and now that, freighted with important measures or hot with
words of protest, counsel, and appeal, strengthening those who waver,
restraining those who are over-bold.

As by his open window in the ancient castle of Coburg, where his
presence is honored and his word is law, the strongman sits at work.
What is the letter that he writes? Who is the Prince or preacher for
whom his words of wisdom are penned? Is he a soldier issuing commands,
or a councillor sending advice to Elector, Duke, or King?

We draw near the writer, and as we look over his shoulder, following the
queer old German script his quick quill t