g before all the eggs are thrown, the victory and the
prize are his, otherwise they belong to his opponent. The game finished,
the prize is presented to the victor with due ceremony and amid the cheers
of the crowd; the hard eggs are distributed among the company, and the raw
ones carried uproariously into the neighboring inn, there to be cooked in
various ways and eaten.

[Illustration: "HAPPIER THAN LITTLE KINGS AND QUEENS."]

The remainder of the day is spent in dancing and merry-making, and if a
wedding can possibly be arranged to take place on that afternoon the fun
is wilder than ever.

DICK HARDIN AWAY AT SCHOOL.

BY LUCY J. RIDER.

_September 9th, 1877._

DEAR MOTHER: I don't feel very well. I want to come home. I am very sick.
I could not eat any supper. My throat aches pretty bad. I think I had
better come home. The boy that sleeps with me says most all boys feels so
at first; but may be I shall die. I want to come home. I will study good
at home. So good-by.--Your son, DICK.

P. S.--I want to come home.

* * *
_October 26, 1877._

DEAR MOTHER: Me and the boy that sleeps with me put a peace of paper on
the door, and that made me feel better. I got the ten cents and your
letter. I had to buy some pop-corn. All the boys buy pop-corn. A man has
pop-corn to sell. Jim gave me some pop-corn that time my throat had a lump
in it, and it felt better. It was red, and all sticky together. I think
that was why.

It's a buster of a house here, and it's got a bell on top of it. A boy
rings it. It comes right down in his closet. It comes through a little
round hole, and he pulls it, and he let me pull it once, and that makes it
ring. There's lots of boys here, and some girls. There is doves living up
where the bell is. I went up there. They kind of groan, and that is coon,
when they coo. I like the doves, but I don't like their coon. Every boy
writes their names up there. Sometimes they cuts their names, but Mr.
Wiseman says you mustn't any more. Mr. Wiseman is the Principle, and he
has got whiskers, and every boy has to mind him.

He points and he says, "Go to your rooms!" and we go. Some boy sent him a
paper, and it made him hoppin' mad. It was about a clock. It said:

"Half way up the stairs he stands,
And points and beckons with his hands."