ich God forbid, we may be sure that first in the
field, and foremost in the van of the grand army, will be our gallant
young friend,

COLONEL FREDDY.

CONCLUSION.

IT took a great many Saturday afternoons to finish the story of "Colonel
Freddy," and the children returned to it at each reading with renewed
and breathless interest. George and Helen couldn't help jumping up off
their seats once or twice and clapping their hands with delight when
anything specially exciting took place in the pages of the wonderful
story that was seen "before it was printed," and a great many "oh's" and
"ah's" testified to their appreciation of the gallant "Dashahed
Zouaves." They laughed over the captive Tom, and cried over the true
story of the old sergeant; and when at length the very last word had
been read, and their mother had laid down the manuscript, George sprang
up once more, exclaiming; "Oh, I wish I could be a boy soldier! Mamma,
mayn't I recruit a regiment and camp out too?" "And oh! if I could only
present a flag!" cried his sister; "I wish I had been Jessie; what a
pity it wasn't all true!"

"And what if I should tell you," said their mother, laughing, "that a
little bird has whispered in my ear that 'Colonel Freddy' was
wonderfully like your little Long Island friend Hilton R----?"

"Oh, mamma! why, what makes you think so?"

"Oh, something funny I heard about him last summer; never mind what!"

The children wisely concluded that it was no use to ask any more
questions; at the same moment solemnly resolving that the very next time
they paid a visit to their aunt, who lived at Astoria, they would beg
her to let them drive over to Mr. R----'s place, and find out all about
it.

After this, there were no more readings for several Saturdays; but at
last one morning when the children had almost given up all hopes of more
stories, George opened his eyes on the sock hanging against the door,
which looked more bulgy than ever. "Hurrah!" he shouted; "Aunt Fanny's
daughter hasn't forgotten us, after all!" and dressing himself in a
double quick, helter-skelter fashion, George dashed out into the entry,
forgot his good resolution, and slid down the banisters like a streak of
lightning and began pummelling on his sister's door with both fists;
shouting, "Come, get up! get up, Nelly! here's another Sock story for
us!"

This delightful announcement was quite sufficient to make Helen's
stoc