gnantly.

Peter had, for the present, exhausted his stock of Haarlem anecdotes,
and now, having nothing to do but skate, he and his three companions
were hastening to catch up with Lambert and Ben.

"That English lad is fleet enough," said Peter. "If he were a born
Hollander, he could do no better. Generally these John Bulls make but a
sorry figure on skates. Halloo! Here you are, Van Mounen. Why, we hardly
hoped for the honor of meeting you again. Whom were you flying from in
such haste?"

"Snails," retorted Lambert. "What kept you?"

"We have been talking, and besides, we halted once to give Poot a chance
to rest."

"He begins to look rather worn-out," said Lambert in a low voice.

Just then a beautiful iceboat with reefed sail and flying streamers
swept leisurely by. Its deck was filled with children muffled up to
their chins. Looking at them from the ice you could see only smiling
little faces imbedded in bright-colored woolen wrappings. They were
singing a chorus in honor of Saint Nicholas. The music, starting in
the discord of a hundred childish voices, floated, as it rose, into
exquisite harmony:

"Friend of sailors and of children!
Double claim have we,
As in youthful joy we're sailing,
O'er a frozen sea!

Nicholas! Saint Nicholas!
Let us sing to thee!

While through wintry air we're rushing, As our voices blend,
Are you near us? Do you hear us, Nicholas, our friend?

Nicholas! Saint Nicholas!
Love can never end.

Sunny sparkles, bright before us, Chase away the cold!
Hearts where sunny thoughts are welcome, Never can grow old.

Nicholas! Saint Nicholas!
Never can grow old!

Pretty gift and loving lesson, Festival and glee,
Bid us thank thee as we're sailing O'er the frozen sea.

Nicholas! Saint Nicholas!
So we sing to thee!

Jacob Poot Changes the Plan

The last note died away in the distance. Our boys, who in their vain
efforts to keep up with the boat had felt that they were skating
backward, turned to look at one another.

"How beautiful that was!" exclaimed Van Mounen.

"Just like a dream!"

Jacob drew close to Ben, giving his usual approving nod, as he spoke.
"Dat ish goot. Dat ish te pest vay. I shay petter to take to Leyden mit
a poat!"

"Take a boat!" exclaimed Ben in dismay. "Why, man, our