was an expert swimmer now, and had long ago made up for his Aunt Clarissa's nervousness.

"Don't dive," he said; "lower yourself carefully and get the right direction."

The boys slid into the swift current. They had taken but two or three strokes when Carter turned.

"Oh dear," he exclaimed, "my coat's there, and in the pocket is a letter. That boat's going right out to the British. They must not get it."

"Swim on," said George. "I'll go back for it. Shout when you reach the shore."

The shape of the boat could just be seen; he swung about and put after it, arm over arm.

[to be continued.]

GOOD TIMES AT THE HORSE SHOW.

BY WALTER CLARK NICHOLS.

It was really the young people who enjoyed most keenly the eleventh annual Horse Show in New York two weeks ago. Even the horses could have told you that; for the best-bred and wisest among all the well-bred and wise ones that were there on exhibition knew that it was in the daytime, when the boys and girls were out in force, that they, the horses, received the undivided attention.

It was all very brilliant in the evening, when the glittering lights around the vast dome of the great Garden gleamed upon the red, yellow, and white bunting, and shone down on a wonderful scene of splendor—beautiful women in gorgeous gowns, handsome men in evening dress, in the seats—thousands and thousands of them—and a thick crowd of people constantly moving around the promenade surrounding the large tan-bark arena. But it was so brilliant and so crowded that few people could or would see the horses. They came to see and be seen, and many a prize-winning horse must have felt very discontented at not receiving the attention which he felt due to him.

But it was very different in the mornings and afternoons, when the attendance was much smaller, when the young folks were out, in full force, and when the interest of each was centred gleefully or excitedly on the events in the ring. Here you would see some keen young sportsman of thirteen recounting earnestly to his girl friends, younger than himself, why such a horse won, what his "points" were, and what his "father said." Probably in ten years he will be "jumping fences" with his hunter in the evening events at the show, and talking to those same girls, then women-grown. Over there a nurse would have in tow two youngsters whose father has a big stock-farm. Hardly an event came along on the programme but one of "papa's horses" was entered, and as they breathlessly watched these horses shown "through their paces," their comments more than audible, the children's excitement reached fever-heat when the blue ribbon, the sign of the first prize, was given to one of their father's entries. You would see there at the Garden in the afternoon boys and girls just out from school chattering freely their comments, and nurses with little tots who scarce could gurgle out a pleased "Horsy!" Once in a while, at the eastern end of the building, you might observe, shyly peeping in at the moving horses and the gayly dressed children, more poorly clad young people, friends of some of the grooms, who had smuggled them in at the back door for a "look at the show." Though the hackney, the hunter, the tandem, and other competitions were, of course, watched closely by the young people, the keenest and most gleeful interest was shown in the ponies, and particularly in the little Shetland horses, of which there were more exhibited this year than ever before.

Even the big hunters and coach horses felt a trifle jealous in their stalls down-stairs, for the children came from the main floor, and passed the big fellows by to feast their eyes on the dear little ponies and cunning Shetland horses. Some of the ponies were stalled at the east and north sides of the basement, among their larger brothers, and how provoked the latter would look, how angrily they would twitch about, when a bevy of youngsters devoted their pleased attention to a little brown pony in a neighboring stall, patting him and caressing him! You could almost hear the great beast say: "What, that insignificant little chap? All your attention for him, only one-quarter my size and one-tenth my strength?"

But it was towards the western wing of the basement that the daytime patter of the young people's footsteps was loudest. For here all the Shetlands and many of the ponies were daintily and comfortably housed, here were all the groom-servants they could wish to attend to their wants, and so many callers waiting to be introduced that you might have thought each a young débutante at her coming-out tea. There were gray and black, brown and white ponies, their silky skin and cropped manes contrasting strangely with the shaggy hair and long tumbled tresses of their Shetland neighbors. They were haughtier, too, and bore their petting, of which there was much, more proudly.

The Shetlands were the democrats of the establishment. No fine feathers and coxcomb airs for them! No clipping of the tails to put them in fashion! But there they were, as rough and as long-haired, as fearsome and as kind, as were their ancestors fifty years ago in the bleak Shetland Islands to the northeast of Scotland. Very eager for attention were they all, and every now and then, after a particularly large number of pattings and caressings had been showered on them, they would half turn their heads and whinny out thankful recognitions. Happiest of all were several Shetland mothers with their wee colts beside them, and as the exclamations of delight over the tiny little horse came to each mother's ear, she would turn, and as much as say to her young audience, "Ah! was there ever such a child as mine?"

Shetland ponies, you must know, never really existed in the United States till about thirty years ago, when two small herds were brought over from their native isles to Beliot, Wisconsin, and Allegheny City, Pennsylvania. Since that time they have so increased that there are to-day over two thousand ponies regularly registered in an association which is composed of all the leading owners of Shetland stock farms in the United States. The largest of these is the ranch owned by Mr. J. Murray Hoag, at Maquoketa, Iowa. Here between three and four hundred ponies have their grazing-ground and stalls, and from here they are shipped, when sold, to the various cities, East and West. They are bought almost exclusively for children in the larger cities, and the average price paid for a pony is about $200, somewhat more than an ordinary horse brings. The average height of a Shetland pony is forty inches. Some of them when born are very tiny, and one little Shetland baby, the smallest ever known, weighed but sixteen pounds, when a day old. And a few days afterwards one of the girls on the farm carried him around as she would a puppy. To the little Shetland baby the girl of fifteen probably appeared as one of the giant women did to Gulliver when he was on his travels.

The temporary home of the Shetland horses and the other ponies, down in the basement of the Madison Square Garden, was filled with excitement before each of the events in which some were to take part. The unfastening of chains, the rushing around of grooms, and the mild beat of small hoofs out of the door told the rest that some of their large household were on their way to the ring upstairs to compete for the prize. And there were very few that did not take part in more than one of the many competitions for ordinary ponies and for Shetlands. There were prizes for ponies of various sizes, led by grooms and driven to carts; for colts, and for older ponies; and for pairs of ponies driven to Park traps.

But best of all, from the children's as well as the grown people's stand-point, was the competition for the best Shetland herd of five or six,