The Missing Prince. Farrow George Edward

do you mean?” exclaimed Boy. “I don’t think my schoolmaster is a Professor; at any rate he does not call himself one.”

      “Ah, that’s his artfulness,” said the Crab. “A professor,” he explained, “is one who professes to know more than he really does, and all schoolmasters do that more or less, whether they admit it or not – they are obliged to; however, let’s change the subject; it is a painful one.”

      Boy was greatly surprised at this admission on the part of the Crab, but he was too much interested in his strange surroundings to think much about it.

      They were walking along a roadway with great seaweeds planted at regular intervals on either side, and in the distance Boy could see the outlines of some great buildings.

      “Why, there are some houses!” he exclaimed in surprise.

      “Of course,” replied Professor Crab. “What did you suppose we lived in?”

      “I had no idea that fishes built houses before,” said Boy, “except sticklebacks; I know they build a kind of nest with sticks and things, because I have seen pictures of them in my Natural History book.”

      “My dear sir,” remarked the Professor, “those were in the old days, before fishes became civilised: you might as well refer to the time when human creatures dwelt in caves and huts. No, my dear sir, the spread of education has extended to us also, and we have now as fine cities under the sea as any on land.”

      Boy was just going to reply when his attention was attracted by a party of Lobsters on bicycles rushing past them, all dressed alike in dark green and yellow. One dear little one riding along gallantly at the end of the procession amused Boy very much indeed, and he was still watching him when he heard a voice exclaiming, “Cab, sir?” and, turning around, beheld the most curious vehicle you can possibly imagine: two sea-horses were attached to a kind of carriage made out of a large shell mounted on two wheels, and were driven by a small crayfish, wearing a top hat, who was perched up behind.

      “Yes, I think we will ride,” said Professor Crab, mounting the steps of this strange conveyance, and beckoning Boy to follow. Boy was delighted to do so, and was charmed with the curious little carriage as the coachman cracked his whip and they bowled quickly along. Presently they passed a large building looking like a Station, and Professor Crab told him that it was the Terminus of the Submarine Steam Navigation Company, and told the cabman to stop a moment so that Boy might watch one of the boats which was just starting out of the Station. A very curious affair it turned out to be: shaped like an enormous Cigar, with a screw propeller at one end of it a deck on top with rails around it, on which a number of various kinds of fishes were sitting about on deck-chairs, chatting and reading, while through the large plate-glass windows, of which, there was one on either side of this curiously-shaped boat, Boy could see a number of other fishes making themselves comfortable in the luxuriously furnished saloon. As soon as it floated away out of sight the cabman whipped up his horses again, and off they started once more, and did not stop until they reached some large gates with a board over them, on which was painted in gold letters:

      DRINKON COLLEGE,

      Principal: Professor Crab.

      The Professor paid the cabman, who touched his hat, and then, followed by Boy, entered a large building just through the gates. A long corridor ran right through the building, and through the glass doors at the end Boy could see a number of the scholars at play.

      “Would you like to join them while I give the First Class in Molluscs their singing lesson?” asked the Professor.

      Boy said that he should, and passing out into the playground, was soon surrounded by a number of young fishes, all dressed in College suits similar to those Boy had seen before.

      “What’s your name?” asked one, as soon as he came up to Boy, and before he could answer another one had asked, “What’s your father? and how much pocket money do you have a week?” while a third demanded, “Where did you go for your holiday last year?”

      Boy thought he had better answer one question at a time, so he replied, “Oh, I went to Broadstairs and had such a jolly time, and one day I went out in a boat and caught such a lot of – ” (Fortunately he remembered just in time to prevent himself from saying “such a lot of fish” as he had at first intended.)

      “Such a lot of what?” asked one of the little fishes curiously.

      “Oh – er – er – such a lot of – er – er – things, shells, you know, and er – er – seaweed,” stammered Boy, feeling very confused.

      “Rather funny to go out in a boat to catch seaweed, wasn’t it?” remarked one of the fishes suspiciously. “What did you catch really?”

      Boy could not think what to say, but at last he thought that he could see a way out of the difficulty, and said, “Oh, I caught a crab.”

      The fishes looked horrified.

      “Oh! I don’t mean a really truly crab,” Boy hastened to say. “I mean when your oars stick in the water and you can’t draw them out again; that’s called ‘catching a crab,’ you know, and that’s the kind I mean, of course.”

      The fishes did not seem quite satisfied though, and stood staring at him suspiciously for some time, till at last one of them said, – “Can you play cricket?”

      “Yes, rather,” said Boy proudly. “I’m going to be captain of our eleven next term if Traddles doesn’t come back again.”

      “Who’s Traddles?” demanded one of the fishes.

      “Oh! a fellow at our school,” said Boy. “He’s eleven and ever so much taller than me; but I can bowl better than him any day.”

      “Come on then, let’s have a game,” said one of the fishes, leading the way to the end of the playground where a single wicket was pitched.

      “Your innings,” he cried, handing Boy a bat.

      Boy thought this was a very curious way of beginning a game, and he was more surprised still when, without the slightest warning, all the rest of the fishes began throwing balls at him as hard as they could, hitting him pretty sharply in several places, and of course knocking the bails off the stumps at once.

      “How’s that, Umpire?” they shouted all together.

      The fish who had handed Boy the bat promptly replied “Out,” and the others threw their caps up into the air excitedly and called out that they had won the game.

      “That’s not the way to play cricket,” cried Boy, throwing down his bat in disgust.

      “Who says it isn’t?” demanded one of the fishes, coming up to him.

      “I say so,” maintained Boy stoutly.

      “Very well, then I’ll fight you for it,” declared the fish, throwing off his coat.

      “I’m sure you won’t,” said Boy, laughing at the very idea.

      “Yah! cowardy, cowardy custard,” cried the fishes, dancing around him. “Afraid to fight; dear little mammy’s baby.”

      Boy very wisely determined not to heed their taunts and walked back to the College, leaving the quarrelsome little fishes to themselves.

      The sound of music from one of the class-rooms told him where he should find the Professor, and looking in at the window he saw the Crab standing beside a blackboard with notes on it waving a bâton, while a number of Oysters in rows were singing with their shells wide open.

      “Come in,” he cried, when he saw Boy, and Boy went round to the door and entered the room.

      “We have nearly finished,” said Professor Crab. “Perhaps you would like to hear the Molluscs sing.”

      “Very much indeed,” said Boy, taking a seat on one of the forms.

      The Crab counted “One, two, three,” beating time with his bâton, and the Oysters started singing the following song: —

“THE DEAR LITTLE OYSTER.”

      “There