ated marines assembled on the superstructures, and began a
rapid fire at the balloon, hoping to burst it. But their bullets simply
glanced off the fine steel netting with which it was protected. Now the
head of the young man once again appeared above the bulwarks of the
strange machine, and he took a rapid glance at the British ship. The
next instant a small port in the cutter's side opened, and from it
dropped a glass globe about half the size of a football. The globe fell
upon the forward deck of the cruiser. There was an appalling explosion,
and the whole forecastle of the _Ajax III._ became a hopeless wreck.
Another globe was hurled with such fatal accuracy that it fell down one
of the smoke-stacks of the now helpless vessel. There was a roar as of
thunder away down in her engine-room, and pale-faced men poured on deck.

"We're sinking! The ship's bottom is blown out!" they cried. There was a
wild rush to lower away the boats. A few minutes later the _Ajax III._
sank out of sight under the fine waters of the Caribbean Sea, and Harry
Borden, with his balloon stowed and his canvas spread again, was sailing
away with a few survivors of the ill-fated cruiser in his strange
invention in search of more British cruisers. A month later the war was
over.

THE BILBERRY SCHOOL EXHIBITION.

BY SOPHIE SWETT.

Simpsy Judkins was to "speak a piece," and Viola Treddick to read an
original composition; there was to be a glee sung by picked voices from
the first class--it was all about the deep blue sky, and "the sky, the
sky, the sky," was repeated in a very thrilling and effective manner;
and Tom Burtis was to display his powers as a lightning calculator. The
exhibition was to be given in the new Town-hall, and not only would all
Bilberry be there, but a crowd of people from the adjacent towns as
well, to say nothing of teachers and pupils from the Normal School at
Cocheco; for the Bilberry Hill School exhibitions had acquired a
reputation.

In the Treddick family the girls had been obliged to take the family
burden upon their shoulders. When Father Treddick died, somewhat less
than a month after Mother Treddick, turning his face to the wall, and
saying that she had been his backbone and his underpinning and he
couldn't live without her (it sometimes happens that way in spite of
Mother Nature), the rocks still had the upper hands on the little farm,
and Amasa, the only boy, was but eleven. Lizette, who was fifteen, wen