were at a neighbor's, and Uncle
Terry, left to himself, was reading every line, including the
advertisements, in the last "Boston Journal," that the following met his
eye:

WANTED.--Information that will lead to the discovery of an heir to
the estate of one Eric Peterson, a land-owner and shipbuilder of
Stockholm, Sweden, whose son, with his wife, child, and crew, were
known to have been wrecked on the coast of Maine, in March, 187-.
Nothing has ever been heard of said Peterson or his wife, but the
child may have been saved. Any one having information that will
lead to the discovery of this child will be amply rewarded by
communicating with

NICHOLAS FRYE,
-- PEMBERTON SQUARE, BOSTON. _Attorney at Law._

"Wal, I'll be everlastin'ly gol darned!" he exclaimed after he had read
it for the third time. "If this don't beat all natur, I'm a goat."

It was fortunate he was alone, for it gave him time to think the matter
over, and after half an hour of astonishment he decided to say nothing
to his wife or Telly.

"I'll jis' breathe easy an' sag up," he said to himself, "same as though
I was crossin' thin ice, an' if nothin' comes on't nobody'll be the
worse for worryin'."

Then he cut the slip out and hid it in his black leather wallet, and
then wisely cut out the entire page and burned it.

"Wimmin are sich curis creeters they'd be sure to want to know what I'd
cut out o' that page," he said to himself, "an' never rest till I told
'em."

When Aunt Lissy and Telly came home he was as composed as a rock and sat
quietly puffing his pipe, with his feet on top of a chair and pointing
towards the fire.

"Were you lonesome, father?" asked Telly, who usually led conversation
in the Terry home. "We stopped at Bascom's, and you know he never stops
talking."

"He's worse'n burdock burs ter git away from," answered Uncle Terry,
"an' ye can't be perlite ter him unless ye want t' spend the rest o' yer
life listenin'. His tongue allus seemed ter be hung in the middle an'
wag both ways. I wasn't lonesome," he continued, rising and adding a few
sticks to the fire, as the two women laid aside their wraps and drew
chairs up; "I've read the paper purty well through an' had a spell o'
livin' over by-gones," and then, turning to Telly and smiling, he added:
"I got thinkin' o' the day ye came ashore, an' mother she got that
excited she sot the box ye was in on the stove an' then put mor