Elsie at the World's Fair. Finley Martha

have often heard or read that the ostrich leaves her eggs lying in the sand to be hatched by the heat of the sun," remarked Evelyn.

      "Perhaps she does in those very hot countries," said the exhibitor, "but not in California; though, as I've been telling you, she makes the male bird do the most of the setting."

      "Maybe that's because the eggs are all his, but don't all belong to any of the females," laughed Walter.

      "Perhaps that is it, sir," returned the man.

      "Can they run very fast?" asked Neddie. "I should think they could with such great long legs."

      "Yes," said his father, "the ostrich is supposed to be able to run at the rate of sixty miles an hour when it first sets out, but is not able to keep up that rate of speed very long. And it has a habit of running in a curve instead of a straight line. It is thus possible for men on horseback to meet it and get a shot at it."

      "I think it's a great pity to shoot them when they are not even good to eat," remarked the little fellow in indignant tones. "Besides, they might save them to grow feathers."

      "Yes," returned the exhibitor, "that's what we're raising them for in California."

      "Papa, I'd like to have some," said Neddie as they walked away.

      "Some what, son?"

      "Ostriches, papa."

      "About how many?"

      "Couldn't we have an ostrich farm?" asked the little fellow after a moment's consideration of the question.

      "Well, not to-day, my son," returned his father with an amused look. "There will be plenty of time to talk it over before we are ready to go into the business."

      CHAPTER IV

      "I think the little folks are getting tired," said Harold. "and yonder on the lagoon is a gondola waiting for passengers. Shall we take it?"

      Everybody seemed pleased with the suggestion, and presently they were in the gondola gliding over the water. They found it both restful and enjoyable.

      It was past noon when they stepped ashore again, and Ned announced that he was hungry and wanted something to eat.

      "You shall have it, my son," said his father.

      "And suppose we go to the New England Cabin for it," suggested Grandma Elsie.

      They did so and were served with an excellent repast, handsome young Puritan ladies in colonial costumes acting as waitresses.

      After satisfying their appetites they visited the other room of the cabin, which was fitted up as the living room of a family of the olden time. It had log walls, bare rafters overhead, a tall old-fashioned clock in a corner, a canoe cradle, a great spinning-wheel on which the ladies, dressed like the women of the olden times, spun yarn, and gourds used for drinking vessels. Some of the ladies were knitting socks, some carding wool, while they talked together, after the fashion of the good, industrious dames of the olden time they represented.

      Our friends, especially the young girls, were greatly interested and amused.

      "Suppose we visit some of the State buildings now," said Mrs. Dinsmore, as they left the cabin.

      "Pennsylvania's in particular, my dear?" returned her husband. "Well, it is a grand old State; we could hardly do better than to show to these little great-grandchildren the famous old bell that proclaimed liberty to this land and all its inhabitants."

      "So I think," she said. "Do not you agree with us, captain?"

      "I do, indeed," he replied; "my older ones have seen the bell, but I want to show it to Elsie and Ned."

      "It won't hurt any of us to look again at that old relic of the Revolution," remarked Walter, "and of course we want to see the building."

      So the whole party at once turned their steps in that direction.

      Arrived in front of the building they paused there and scanned the outside. All pronounced it very handsome.

      "Its front seems to be a reproduction of Independence Hall," remarked Mr. Dinsmore; "it has its entrances and tower."

      "Yes," said his wife, "I like that and the quarter-circling in of those front corners; those balconies, too."

      "Is that the State coat-of-arms above the pediment over the front doors, papa?" asked Grace.

      "Yes," was the reply; "and the statues on the sides are those of Penn and Franklin."

      Just at that moment two women, evidently from the country, came sauntering along and halted near our party.

      "What building 's that?" asked one of the other. "It's right nice-lookin', isn't it?"

      "Yes; and don't you see the name there up over the door?"

      "Oh, yes, to be sure! Pennsylvany! Goin' in, Elmiry?"

      "Of course; that's the thing to do. Do you see? There's the old bell, at the door there, that they talk so much about. What they make such a fuss over it fur I don't know; it's ugly as can be and has a great crack in it; but it's quite the thing to talk about it and say you've seen it; so we must do like the rest."

      "Yes, I suppose we must, though I don't see why anybody should, any more than you do," returned her companion. "It's ugly enough and certainly wouldn't bring first price if 'twas put up for sale. But just see what handsome fellows those policemen are that's got charge of it! Enough sight better-lookin' than it is."

      With that the two went nearer, looked the old bell carefully over, then walked on into the building. While they talked merry, mischievous glances had been exchanged among the young people of our party.

      "I wonder where they have lived all their days," laughed Walter, looking after them as they disappeared through the doorway.

      "I hope they are not Americans! I'm ashamed of them if they are!" exclaimed Lulu. "The very idea of such ignorance!"

      "Descendants of Tories, perhaps," said Rosie, laughing. "Do you know its story, Elsie? that of the old bell, I mean."

      "Yes, indeed, Aunt Rosie! We've got a picture of it at home, and papa and mamma, and Lu and Gracie have all told me the story about it – how when those brave men had signed their names to that paper, it proclaimed liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof; for it rang out to let the people know they had done it. Oh, papa, please show me those words on it."

      "Yes," the captain said, "come nearer and you can see and read them for yourself."

      The little girl obeyed with alacrity, and when she had read the inscription, "Wasn't it very strange, papa," she said, "that those words were put on it when nobody knew that it was going to proclaim liberty?"

      "Yes, very strange indeed; and that proclamation has made it a very famous old bell."

      "Is that the reason why they brought it here, papa?"

      "Yes, for many people will see it here who will never get to Philadelphia to look at it."

      "I'm glad for them that they can see it," she said with satisfaction. "Do they ring it when it's at its home in Philadelphia, papa?"

      "No, my child; that great crack you see there has spoiled it for ringing, but it is highly valued and cherished for what it did in those days when our fathers had to risk everything to secure freedom for themselves and their children."

      "They were good and brave men to do it; weren't they, papa?"

      "They were, indeed, and deserve to be kept in loving remembrance because of their brave deed."

      The rest of the party were standing near listening to the talk between the captain and his little girl; also regarding the old bell with interest, though nearly all of them had seen it before. But it was time for them to move on, for others were coming to view the old relic of Revolutionary days, and Mr. Dinsmore led the way into the interior of the building, the rest closely following.

      They went all over it, finding much to admire, and Mrs. Dinsmore expressed herself as entirely satisfied with the building of her native State.

      From there they went to