CHAPTER XIV.

The next few weeks worked a great and serious change in George. It was the first time he had seen death since he was ten years old, when his father died. That had made a great impression on him at the time, but the feelings of a child of ten and a youth of sixteen are very different. He had loved little Mildred dearly, and the child's death was a deep sorrow to him. The grief of his brother and sister was piteous. As the case often is, the father was the more overwhelmed, and the poor mother had to stifle her own grief to help her husband. George could not but love and admire his sister the more when he saw her calm fortitude, and how, inspired by love for her husband, she bore bravely the loss of her only child. Both Madam Washington and Betty had come to Mount Vernon the day of little Mildred's death. Madam Washington was obliged to return after a few days to her younger children, but George and Betty remained.

"For George is the heir now," said Laurence, with a sad smile, "and he must learn to manage what will one day be his own."

"Oh, brother," burst out George, with strange violence, "do you believe I wanted this place at the price of your child's life? I would give it all, twenty times over, to have her back!"

"If I had thought you coveted it, I should never have made you my heir," was Laurence's reply to this.

Never was there a kinder or more helpful soul than Betty, now a tall and beautiful girl of fourteen. Mrs. Washington's health was much shattered by this last and greatest sorrow, and Laurence, who had always been of a delicate constitution, became every day more feeble. George attended him assiduously, rarely leaving him. He persuaded his brother to ride out and take some interest in the place. He read to Laurence of evenings in the library, and tried to interest him with accounts of the new regions in which the younger brother had spent so many months. Nothing could ever make Laurence Washington a happy man again.

Mrs. Washington's sorrow, though as great, was better controlled. She always managed to wear a cheerful look before her husband, and although she was not able to accompany him in his out-door life, she was with him every moment he spent in-doors. Betty was to her as great a comfort as George was to Laurence Washington. Betty had so tender a heart and so excellent an understanding that she was as helpful as a woman twice her age, and these two young creatures were mainstays and comforts at an age when most young creatures rely wholly on other people.

All day they were engaged, each in gentle and untiring efforts to make life a little brighter to their brother and sister. But after the older persons had retired, every night, George and Betty would sit up over the fire in the library and talk for hours. Their conversations were not always sad--it is not natural for the young to dwell in sadness--but they were generally serious. One night Betty said:

"Don't you think, George, we ought to write to our mother and ask her to let us stay over Christmas with brother Laurence and sister Anne? You remember how gay it was last Christmas, and how glad we were to be here? Now I think when they are in great trouble we ought to be as willing to stay with them as when they were happy and bright and could make us enjoy ourselves."

"Betty," answered George, in admiration, "why did I not think of this? I see it is just what we ought to do."

"Because," said Betty, promptly, "women are much more thoughtful than men, and girls are much more thoughtful than boys."

George did not dispute this, as he had been taught never to call in question any woman's goodness, and in his heart he believed them to be all as good as his mother and Betty and his sister Anne. The lesson of chivalry towards all women had been early and deeply taught him, and it was a part of the fibre of his being. "And shall I write and ask our mother to let us stay?" asked George, humbly.

"No," replied Betty, with a slight accent of scorn; "you might not ask it in the right way. I shall write myself."

Now, although Betty always assumed, when alone with George, this superior tone, yet when they were in company nothing could exceed her submissiveness towards this darling brother, and it was then George's turn to treat her with condescending kindness. But each thought this arrangement perfectly natural and mutually satisfactory. Whenever they had a discussion, though, Betty always carried the day, for she was really a girl of remarkably fine sense, and much more glib and persuasive than George, who could always be silenced, if not convinced, by Betty's ready tongue and quick wit. The next day the letter was written, and within a week a reply was received giving permission for them to remain over Christmas.

Mrs. Washington, ever thoughtful of others, made the same preparation for the holiday on the estate as usual, so that, however sad the house might be, the servants should have their share of jollity. But the tie between a kind master and mistress and their slaves was one of great affection, and especially were the white children objects of affection to the black people. Therefore, although the usual Christmas holiday was given, with all the extra allowances and indulgences, it was a quiet season at Mount Vernon. On Christmas day, instead of the merry party in carriages going to Pohick Church, and an equally merry one going on board the _Bellona_ to service, the coach only took Mr. and Mrs. Washington and Betty to church, George riding with them, for he hated a coach, and never drove when he could ride.

Meanwhile William Fairfax had returned to Belvoir, where there were Christmas festivities. George and Betty were asked, and although their brother and sister urged them to go, neither felt really inclined for gayety. They were not of those natures forever in pursuit of pleasure, although none could enjoy it more when it came rightly; and a native good sense and tender sympathy with others, which found no expression in words, made them both feel that they should omit no mark of respect in a case where they were so directly benefited as by the little girl's death. Laurence Washington and his wife could not admire too much George's delicacy about Mount Vernon. While he made use of the servants and the horses and carriages and boats, and everything else on the place, with the freedom of a son rather than of a younger brother, no word or look escaped him that indicated he was the heir.

William Fairfax was a great resource to both George and Betty. Living a whole summer together as he and George had done, it was inevitable that they should become either very much attached or very antagonistic--and luckily they had become devotedly fond of one another. William was preparing to enter William and Mary College the following year, and George bitterly regretted that he would not have so pleasant a companion for his next summer's work. Very different were his circumstances now, the acknowledged heir of a rich brother. But George determined to act as if no such thing existed, and to carry out his plan of finishing the surveys on Lord Fairfax's lands. The universal expectation of war with France, whenever the French and English outposts should get sufficiently near, made him sure that he would one day bear arms; but he prepared for whatever the future might hold for him by doing his best in the present.

In February he returned to Ferry Farm for a while, but he had been there only a month when Laurence Washington wrote, begging that he would return, and saying that he himself felt utterly unequal to carrying on the affairs of a great estate in his present wretched state of health and spirits. Madam Washington made no objection to George's return to Mount Vernon. She realized the full extent of Laurence's kind intentions towards George, and that his presence was absolutely necessary to keep the machinery of a large plantation going.

In March, therefore, George was again at Mount Vernon, practically in charge of the place. There were ploughing and ditching and draining and clearing and planting to be done, and, with a force of a hundred and fifty field hands and eighteen hundred acres of arable land, it was no small undertaking. By daylight George was in the saddle, going first to the stables to see the stock fed, then to the kennels, and, after breakfast, riding over the whole estate. It kept him in the open air all day, and he began to like not only the life, but the responsibility. He had all the privileges of the master, Laurence leaving everything to his judgment, and his sister was glad to have it so. This continued until June, when, the crops being well advanced and Lord Fairfax having written urgently for him, he turned affairs over to the overseer until the autumn, and prepared to resume his work as a surveyor.

He paid a hurried visit to Ferry Farm, where, although he was painfully missed, things went on perfectly well, for no better farmer than Madam Washington could be found in the colony of Virginia. Indeed, George's success at Mount Vernon was due in great measure to applying the sound system in vogue at Ferry Farm to the larger interests at Mount Vernon. Madam Washington's pride in his responsible position at Mount Vernon, and his still greater responsibility as a State surveyor for Lord Fairfax, did much to reconcile her to George's long absences. Deep in her heart she cherished a pride in her eldest son that was one of the master-passions of her life. The extreme respect that George paid her filled her with more satisfaction than the attentions of all the rest of the world. Once only had they clashed--in the matter of the midshipman's warrant. She had won a nominal victory by an appeal to his feelings, but she had no mind after that for any more battles of the sort. So, with tears, but with encouraging smiles, she saw him set forth, in the summer of 1749, upon his second year's work in the wilderness.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

HOW TO MANAGE AN AQUARIUM.

BY JAMES STEELE.

It is generally supposed that it is necessary to change the water in an aquarium at least once a day; but that is not the case. The true principle on which an aquarium should be conducted is not to change the water at all, but so to aerate and refresh the original supply as to maintain it always in a pure and perfect state. There are several means by which this may be done. The healthy growth of plants is very important, and active and brisk contact with the air of the atmosphere will greatly freshen the water. Motion in the water is absolutely necessary. In large aquaria this is obtained by an arrangement of tanks into which the water is pumped, and from which it flows rapidly, circulating through the tanks where the fish live. In its passage through the air it absorbs considerable oxygen, without which no fish can live. Fish placed in water that has been boiled die in a very few minutes.

In a small aquarium the water can be refreshed by frequently drawing it up through a glass or rubber syringe, and squirting it back into the vessel from some height above it.

The first thing to be done in the formation of a fresh-water aquarium is to start your plants in proper soil at the bottom of your tank, fill the tank with water, and leave it undisturbed until the plants begin to grow and the little bubbles of oxygen are to be seen rising to the surface of the water.

Choose your plants from such as you may collect from rivers or brooks or ponds anywhere in the country. Plant them, and then cover the surface of the soil with pebbles and small bits of rock, or anything that is suitable and in keeping with the rest of your arrangements. Never put sea-shells into a fresh-water aquarium, and never put in any artificial objects. Everything should be as simple and natural as you can make it.

Now fill your tank with water poured through a siphon or funnel, being very careful not to disturb the soil or the roots of the plants. You should have some clean river sand in the bottom of your tank, and your pieces of rock should be so arranged as to form little caves and hiding-places for your fish. It will take perhaps two weeks to get your tank into a proper condition for fish to live in. Every bit of dead or decaying vegetation should be carefully removed. Keep your tank shaded from the heat of the sun, and expose it to the bright light only once in awhile.

In order to manage your aquarium properly you will require a few simple tools. A little hand-net that can be bought for a few cents, or made for even less out of a bit of wire and a small piece of mosquito-netting, is useful for catching the fish or shells without putting your hands into the water. A pair of wooden forceps, like a glove-stretcher, will be found most convenient for nipping off bits of decaying plants or for catching objects that may have accidentally fallen into the water. Glass tubes of various sizes are also useful. If you want to catch any small object in the water with the tube, place the tube in the water with your finger over the hole in the top. Until your finger is removed the tube will remain full of air. Place it over the bit of refuse or whatever it is you want to catch, remove your finger, and the water will rush in, carrying the object with it into the tube, which should then be closed at the upper end by placing your finger over it as before. A glass or hard-rubber syringe is necessary with which to aerate the water thoroughly at least once a day, and oftener if possible. Fill the syringe, hold it high above the tank, and then squirt the water back again. A long piece of India-rubber tubing which may be used as a siphon is necessary for the purpose of changing the water in the tank, when it is evident that something has gone wrong.

If a green film begins to gather on the side of the tank that is most exposed to the light, it should be cleaned away every day, and the sides of the glass polished carefully. A small piece of clean sponge tied on the end of a stick will answer the purpose very well, and, if used daily, you can keep the glass clear with very little trouble; but if the scum is neglected and left to accumulate, you will find it almost impossible to remove it from the glass even by hard scouring.

It is best to have only small fish in your aquarium, and for this reason trout are not desirable. Although very beautiful and intelligent, they grow so rapidly that they are likely to become in a short time too unwieldy for your tank. Goldfish and minnows are very good, and the common little sunfish or "pumpkin-seed" is excellent.

You must keep careful watch over the fish in your aquarium, and if any one of them appears to be sick he should be removed at once, very gently, with the hand-net, and placed in fresh water, where he will often recover. If, however, the little sufferer is doomed to die, it is better not to run the risk of his doing so among his healthy companions. It is best always to have a hospital for your sickly pets, and as soon as one of them, whether a fish or a bird or any animal, shows signs of ill health, he should be taken away from the others and placed by himself.

Certain varieties of snails live well in fresh water, and will be found useful in clearing away the green film that is almost certain to collect on the side of the glass; but you must be careful or they will devour your plants as well; and if your tank is very small it is hardly worth while to try to keep them.

Water-beetles and water-spiders also thrive well, and their habits are most interesting to watch; but water-beetles fly by night, and unless you are careful to cover your tank you are likely to discover some morning that a number of your tenants have taken French leave.

You must be careful not to overstock your aquarium, for your fish will not thrive if they are overcrowded. Remember, also, that heat and dust are fatal to your pets. The water must be kept clean and cool at all times, and all foreign matter and every particle of decaying vegetation should be removed immediately.

To manage an aquarium successfully, no matter on how small a scale, requires a good deal of care and time, but you will find it time well spent, and the pleasure and knowledge the study of your pets will give you will be an ample return for the time you spend on them.

WHO CAN ANSWER?

BY GRACE A. CANNON.

The question's not a new one, dear, But one that ev'ry day Comes to some girls and boys I know While at their work or play.

My Nanny comes to me at morn, And with beseeching look, Asks me if I can tell her where She'll find her slate or book.

And Teddy comes to me and says, Sometimes with downcast eye, "Mamma dear, won't you please to come And help me find my tie?"

And Alice, too, comes with a frown When going out for play; "Oh dear, mamma, what did I do With my hat yesterday?"

No hat is found out in the hall; The book's not in its case; No tie is found upstairs to be In its accustomed place.

Now me the reason tell, my dear, And quickly, if you can, Why all these things may not be found By Alice, Ted, or Nan?

The question's not a new one, dear, But one that ev'ry day Comes to some girls and boys I know While at their work or play.

BY PAUL DU CHAILLU.