ed the
waves, stretching every inch of canvas to be the winner at the goal. As
a result the slow merchant packets with their stale cargoes could find
no patrons, the clippers commanding not only all the trade but the
highest prices for produce as well. Silks, chinaware, ivory,
bamboo--all the wealth of the Orient began to arrive in America where
it was hungrily bought up, many a man making his fortune in the East
India trade. Of this fascinating epoch Hawthorne gives us a vivid
picture."

"It must have been great to travel on one of those ships!" said Stephen.

"It was not all pleasure, by any means, son," Mr. Tolman replied. "Often
the vessels encountered hurricanes and typhoons in the treacherous
Eastern waters. Sometimes ships were blown out of their course and
wrecked, or cast ashore on islands where their crews became the prey of
cannibals."

"Jove!"

"It had its outs--this cruising to distant ports," announced his father.
"Moreover, the charts in use were still imperfect and lighthouse
protection was either very scanty or was lacking entirely."

"What became of the clipper ships?"

"Well, we Americans never do anything by halves, you know. When we go in
we go in all over," laughed his father. "That is what we did with our
clipper ships. We were so pleased with them that we built more and more,
sending them everywhere we could think of. Many went around to
California to carry merchandise to the gold searchers. At last there
were so many of these swift vessels that they cut into one another and
freight rates dropped. Besides, steamboats were coming into general use
and were now running on all the more important ocean routes. The day of
the sailing ship was over and the marvelous vessels were compelled to
yield their place to the heralds of progress and become things of the
past. Nevertheless, their part in our American commerce will never be
forgotten and we have them to thank not only for the fame they brought
our country but also for much of its wealth."

With a quick gesture of surprise he rose hurriedly.

"See!" he exclaimed. "We are almost home. We have talked 'ships and
sealing-wax' for hours."

"It hasn't seemed for hours," retorted Stephen, springing to collect his
luggage.

"Nor to me, either."

"Some time I'd like to hear about the ocean liners," ventured the boy.

"You must get Mr. Ackerman to tell you that story when he comes to visit
us Thanksgiving," was the reply, "if he _does_ come. T