more interested janitor, familiarly known 

 as John, kindly removed the covers, and 

 they were transferred to glass jars of 

 water with clean sandy bottoms, where 

 they could remove the soil and dust of 

 travel. But the journey proved too much 

 for half of them. They soon succumbed 

 to fatigue, or the nervous strain, or the 

 overkindness of their keeper. But still 

 they could serve the cause of science, it 

 was fondly hoped. Dropped into a solu- 

 tion of formaldehyde they grimly waited 

 their fate in the dissecting pan. The sur- 

 vivors, distributed in various aquaria, 

 settled down philosophically into the sand 

 to pass the winter in inaction. The larg- 

 est and finest, our pair, had for their 

 exclusive use a large cylindrical glass 

 jar. The sand was clean, and the water 

 was often replenished. They were placed 

 near a window, not too near for the 

 direct light, but near enough, as it proved 

 to be seen from the outside. And but for 

 this happy circumstance they had not 

 escaped a fate more terrible even than the 

 scalpel. 



Christmas festivities passed, and they 

 were not forgotten. Twenty degrees, 

 thirty degrees below zero, and the water 

 over them was not even frozen. But a 

 fatal day was coming. One night in 

 January the heat in the room, often too 

 high for comfort despite the chill breezes 

 that came in under the loose sash, be- 

 came greater and greater until it was 

 intolerable. The air became smoky, and 

 soot mingled with the clear waters. A 

 lurid light came in in place of the morn- 

 ing dawn. Our clams cautiously closed 

 their shells and waited. We hope that 



through their dull nerve centers there 

 came no suspicion of the horrible fate 

 hanging over their shells. At last, when 

 even the glass grew hot, there came a 

 mighty crash. The window splintered 

 into a thousand pieces, let in a welcome 

 whiff of fresh air. Amid the shouts out- 

 side of "Keep out of that !" the form of a 

 man appeared in the frame of the win- 

 dow. Crawling in cautiously he found 

 the valuable microscope he was after. It 

 was quickly handed out to willing hands. 

 The walls still stood, the flames were yet- 

 far off; he would venture his life yet 

 once more. His eye quickly mxade an 

 inventory of the room, and it fell upon 

 the clams. He was a member of the 

 Board of Education, and knew the value 

 of the training of Zoology. With a 

 mighty effort he lifted the big jar full of 

 water into his sheltering arms, and bore 

 it safely down the ladder leaning against 

 the burning walls. The clams saved, and 

 could yet serve the cause of science. 

 Kindly hands bore them across the street 

 to cooler quarters. 



A few more days and the famous 

 clams took a sleigh ride, a novel expe- 

 rience even in their exciting career, and 

 then they were established in new quar- 

 ters. The aquarium was house-cleaned, 

 and they settled down again to winter 

 quarters. Apparently the rude awaken- 

 ing is now a forgotten dream. Neither 

 the terrors of the past nor the tragic end 

 in store for laboratory specimens can dis- 

 turb their equanimity. True to the tra- 

 ditions of their family, they are just 

 ''happy as clams." 



Ruth Marshall. 



