s much wind as
I could risk, and steer for the sea, the sea, the open sea."

"Well, that's pretty well said, though not just as a sailor would say
it. Look here, Henry, where is the stern?"

"You have your left hand on it, sir."

"That's true. And where's the rudder?"

"Your little finger is resting on it."

"What sort of a craft do you call this?"

"I call it a sloop; for it has but one mast."

"If you were holding the tiller, and I were to say, 'Larboard' or
'port,' what should you do?"

"If I stood looking forward, I should move the tiller to the left side
of the vessel."

"That's right; and, if I said 'Starboard,' you would move the tiller to
the right side.--Now, boys, which of you can tell me the difference
between a tiller and a helm?"

"I always thought," said Arthur, "that they meant pretty much the same
thing."

"No: the difference is this," said Uncle Martin: "A tiller is this
little bar or handle by which I move the rudder. The helm is the whole
of the things for steering, consisting of a rudder, a tiller, and, in
large vessels, a wheel by which the tiller is moved. So a tiller is only
a part of the helm."

"Yes, now I understand," said Arthur. "How jolly it is to have an Uncle
Martin to explain things!"

"You rogue, you expect me to be at the launch, eh?"

"Yes, uncle: I've got a bottle of hard cider to smash, on the occasion.
It ought to be rum, by the old rule."

"The best thing to do with rum is to pour it into the sea," said Uncle
Martin. "But what's the name of the new sloop?"

"Ah! that you will hear at the launch," said Arthur.

"It's the 'Artful Dodger,'" whispered brother Henry.

ALFRED SELWYN.

[Illustration]

TOT'S TURNOVER.

SUGARED and scalloped and cut as you see,
With juicy red wreath and name, T-O-T,
This is the turnover dear little Tot
Set in the window there all piping hot:
Proud of her work, she has left it to cool:
Benny must share it when he's out of school.
Scenting its flavor, Prince happens that way,
Wonders if Tot will give him some to-day.
Benny is coming, he's now at the gate--
Prince for himself decides not to wait.
Oh, pity! 'tis gone, and here you and I
See the last that Tot saw of that pretty pie.

M. A. C.

A T