he is
an odd fish, and hard to catch."

"Would you like to meet him?"

"Indeed I would, with a vessel of equal size."

"Sir!" said Rodgers, in a tone that startled the Lieutenant, "do you
know what ship this is?"

"The _Sea-Horse_, of course."

"You are mistaken. You are on board the _President_, and I am Commodore
Rodgers."

Then the band struck up "Yankee Doodle," the coats of the marines were
suddenly changed from scarlet to blue, and the American flag was
displayed over the quarter-deck. Rodgers took his captive and his prize
to Newport. He made another less successful cruise, and about the middle
of January, 1814, he dashed through the British blockading squadron at
New York, and anchored in the harbor.

The British had carried on a distressing marauding warfare on the coasts
during 1813, which kept the smaller vessels of the navy and privateers
vigilant and active. During that summer there were only three American
frigates at sea, others being either blockaded or undergoing repairs;
and yet the Americans, with indomitable will, resolved to carry on the
war with vigor. In September, Commodore Perry, in command of a squadron
on Lake Erie, won a decisive victory over a British squadron under
Commodore Barclay, and thereby secured the absolute control of that
lake. Meanwhile Commodore Chauncey, in command on Lake Ontario, was
performing gallant services there, standing in the way of British
invasions on that frontier, and co-operating efficiently with the land
forces on its borders.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[Illustration: "KEEP STEP, KEEP STEP: ONE, TWO, THREE--ONE, TWO,
THREE."]

HOW THE GEESE SAVED THE BABY.

BY MRS. L. G. MORSE.

John Evans was raking hay in a field on the south side of his cottage,
while his wife was in the dairy printing butter for market. Little Elsy,
their two-year-old baby, was playing with blocks on the sitting-room
floor, and old Robin Hood, the dog, was asleep on the grass close by the
door that opened on the lawn.

The sky was almost cloudless, and the sun blazed warm in the fields.

"Just the weather to make the corn grow," said John Evans, resting a
quarter of a minute, and looking contentedly over the wall at his
flourishing corn blades, already two good inches at least above those of
his rich neighbor, Mr. Haverly.

"Elsy is safe," said Barbara, the trim little house-maid. "I might as
well knead up the bread." And she whisked through the sitting-room so