le R'yal most as much as I do Dallas Lee, 'n' I won't be paid for
rescuin' him. Besides, I had a grudge agin that air eagle, on my own
account, all along of Cotton Ball."

"That vulture, you mean; for I was not mistaken. It belongs to the
vulture family, though sometimes erroneously called the 'golden eagle.'
Well, I am not sure but you will get a nice little sum for that
specimen, as it is a rare and unusually large one. Suppose I take it to
the city, and see what I can do for you?"

To this Wash agreed, and the huge bird of prey, which was found to
measure fourteen feet from tip to tip of its broad wings, after lying in
state, and being visited by half the county, was shipped to New York,
while the amount returned by the Professor for the great carcass seemed
a veritable fortune to the Saunders, whom the neighbors say are more
"ticky" than ever.

Certainly St. George never won more local fame by his dragon slaying
than did Washington Beauregard by his lucky feat, and he is proud of the
handsome silver-mounted Winchester rifle, the gift of "his grateful
friend Royal Stuart," that hangs side by side with the ancient gun which
shot the voracious bird of prey now adorning a city museum, labelled
"_The Lammergeir, or Bearded Vulture_," but which in the West Virginia
mountains will go down to history as the Demon of Snaggle-Tooth Rock.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Ginseng.

OAKLEIGH.

BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.

CHAPTER XV.

The drive to Blue Hill had been delightful and the view from the top
exceptionally fine, it being one of those clear, still days when distant
objects are brought near. It seemed almost possible to lay one's finger
upon the spires of Boston and the glistening dome of the State-house
miles away.

Bronson had exerted himself to the utmost. He wished to stand well with
all men, and particularly with the Franklin family. From a worldly point
of view it would have a most excellent effect for him to be seen driving
with pretty Edith Franklin, of Oakleigh. He was glad whenever they
passed a handsome turnout from Milton, and he was obliged to take off
his hat to its occupants. He felt that he had really gone up in the
world during the last year or two. It was a lucky thing for him, he
thought, that he had fallen in with Tom Morgan at St. Asaph's. By the
time he left college, which he was entering this year, he would have
made quite a number of desirable acquaintances.

His talk was clever, but every now