as of kin to that great king.

Him also the archbishop greeted and made welcome to the assay, whereunto, when he had come, he strove full seven times, tugging and tugging amain ere he stinted from his striving. But neither could he budge the blade a hair'sbreadth.

And after King Lot followed his brother-inlaw, King Uriens of Gore, who had married that other half-daughter of King Uther Pendragon, the famous enchantress, Morgana le Fay. But he also failed to move the Glave. Then after King Uriens of Gore, there followed King Fion of Scotland; and after King Fion, there followed King Mark of Cornwall; and after King Mark, there followed King Indres of South Wales; and after King Indres, there followed King Ban of Benwick; and after King Ban, there followed other kings, twelve in number; and after these kings, there followed sixteen dukes, each of whom came in right courtly state; each of whom came heralded with great acclaim by the multitude; and each of whom was welcomed, as befitted his degree, by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. But not one of all these could budge the Sword even so much as a single grain of measure.

Meantime, in these several assays, the morning had passed, and likewise the greater part of the afternoon, so that the slant of the day had now come and the sunlight had turned from yellow to golden red; and yet in all this time had no king been chosen.

Now after the last of the sixteen dukes had made assay and had failed, there followed a long time when nothing passed, and wherein the folk all talked together, much troubled with doubt and wonder. "Who then is there," said one to another," who may hope to achieve this adventure? Have not all the noblest and worthiest of this land striven and failed? Who then yet remains who may hope to perform this miracle?"

Then, after a long time had thus passed in idle waiting, there came seven of the worthiest of the kings who had striven that day; to wit, King Leodegrance, King Uriens, King Pellinore, King Ban of Benwick, King Lot, King

land. These seven noble and potent kings came to where the archbishop sat, and thus bespake him. "Sir," quoth the one who spake for them all (and that was King Ban), “here have all the kings and dukes of this country striven before, you to draw forth this Sword from the Anvil, and lo! all have failed to accomplish that which you have called upon us to perform. What may we then understand but that the Enchanter Merlin hath done this out of despite and for to bring shame upon all of us and upon you? For who in all the world may hope to draw forth the Sword-blade out from a bed of solid iron? Behold, it is beyond the power of any man. Is it not then plain to be seen that Merlin hath made a jest of us all? Now, therefore, that all this great assemblage may not have been called hither in vain, we do beseech thee of thy wisdom that thou shouldst presently choose one from among us kings here gathered, who may be best fitted to be king and overlord of this realm. Him, when thou shalt have chosen him, we will promise to obey in all things whatsoever he may ordain."

Then was the archbishop troubled in heart, for he said to himself: "Can it be sooth that Merlin hath deceived me, and hath made a mock of me and of all these kings and lordly folk? Surely this cannot be, for Merlin is passing wise; nor would he make a mock of all this whole realm for the sake of so sorry a jest as this would be. Surely he hath some intent in this of which I know naught, wherefore I will be patient for a while longer." Accordingly, having communed thus within himself, he spake aloud in this wise to those seven kings. "I have yet faith," quoth he, “that Merlin hath not deceived us. Wherefore I pray your patience for one short half-hour longer. If in that time no one cometh forth to perform this task, then will I, at your behest, choose one from among you, and will proclaim him king and overlord of all." For the archbishop had faith that Merlin in that time would have declared his intent to all the world.

Nor was his faith in vain, for one came in another guise than such proud estate as had surrounded these kings; and he likewise made assay.

THERE was always a crowd in waiting when the stage-coach arrived in the shabby little mining-camp of Singing River. As a rule, the crowd assembled on the long, wide platform in front of the post-office, which was also the stage-office, the hotel, the general store, and the center from which radiated the social life of the camp. Above the post-office was a small and dingy hall lighted with dripping tallow candles; and such public amusements or entertainments as there were in Singing River were given in this hall. The platform in front of the building was the favorite "loafing-place" of the miners. The arrival of the stage-coach was the connecting-link between Singing River and the great outside world from which the little mining-camp was so far removed. The nearest railroad station was one hundred miles distant, and there was no town within fifteen miles any larger than Singing River, which was but a little hamlet of log-cabins, tents, and slab shanties far up the mountain-side above the VOL. XXX.-15-16.

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little Singing River in the rocky gulch below. The Singing River was a narrow and shallow stream; but its crystal-clear waters surged in foamy wavelets around moss-covered boulders and went singing on so merrily that there was perpetual music in even the darkest and gloomiest parts of the gulch. But there was ice over the river for seven months of the year, and then nothing was to be heard but the dreary sound of the wind as it went moaning or shrieking up and down the long, dark cañon.

The winters were long and bitter in Singing River. Snow began to fly as early as the last of September, and it still lay deep in the gulches and in the narrow, rocky streets of the camp. while the wild flowers were blooming in the far-distant valleys.

But on the December day when this story opens, the stage arrived a full hour in advance of the usual time, and only a few of the men of the camp were at the post-office when Dave Hixon, the stage-driver, drew rein before it,

driver. "Got 'commodations for this lady an' gent, Ma'am Hickey?"

"Well, I'll make 'commodations for 'em, if I have to turn you out o' your bed to do it," said Ma'am Hickey, as she dropped to her knees before the little boy and took him into her arms, saying as she did so:

"Why, bless your heart an' soul, little feller! I declare if it don't feel sweet to git a child into my arms once more! An' whose boy air you, anyhow?"

'Papa's," replied the boy, shyly, with a slight quivering of his lips and an attempt to release himself from Ma'am Hickey's embrace. "An' where is papa, honey?" "Here."

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Only two, an' there 's so little of them that I reckon they've rattled round like peas in a pod inside there."

Then Dave leaned far downward and, twisting himself around, called out to some one within the stage:

"Hello there, youngsters! You all right?" A shrill, childish voice replied: "Yes, sir." "Well, you'd better crawl out o' that an' git in where it's warmer, an' git some o' Ma'am Hickey's hot supper. Hey, Ma'am Hickey, I've fetched you a kind of a queer cargo!"

This last remark was addressed to a large, round-faced, motherly-looking woman who had come to the door of the hotel part of the building with her apron over her head.

"What's that you say, Dave?" she called out loudly and heartily.

"I say I've fetched you a kind of a queer cargo. You just come out an' see if I hain't."

He jumped down from his high driver's seat and flung open the stage door as Ma'am Hickey came over to the edge of the roadway. Reaching into the coach, Dave picked up what appeared to be a round bundle on the back seat, and set it out in the snow with a buffalo robe around it. The robe fell to the ground, and there was revealed to the amazed bystanders a girl of about nine years with big dark eyes that looked calmly and yet appealingly at the staring group. The next moment Dave had set a yellow-haired boy of about five years down beside the girl. "There you air!" said Davd, the stage

Ma'am Hickey looked around toward the men as if expecting some of them to come forward and claim the child; but they too were looking around inquiringly as the crowd grew in numbers, attracted by the news of the arrival of the stage. Noting the boy's quivering lips and half-frightened look in the presence of all those strangers, his sister stepped toward him and patted his head gently with her mittened hand, saying as she did so :

"There, there; don't you cry, Freddy. Sister will take care of you; yes, she will."

"Where did you little folks come from?" asked Ma'am Hickey, rising to her feet with the little boy in her arms.