150 
THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
us, an’ it’d be a pity not to take it. ’Sides, the gov - 
ment owes me a pension for all the time I’ve lost in jails 
and prisons, an’ this ere’s a good chance to get it. 1 
knows where the crib is, ’cause we stopped there last 
week for somethin' to eat, don’t you mind ? This feller 
that owns it was there at the time. There is nobody 
but a woman an’ two little uns. an’ they're easy fixed, 
an’ there ain’t no other house nigh.” 
“ But there’s that ’ere other chap as said as he was a 
goin’ there ? ” 
“Him?” He’s crazy, an’ if he goes there at all he’ll 
only stop a bit an’ move on.' A tap on the head 'll settle 
him, anyway, if lie’s there—but then he won't be 
there.” 
During this time Nat was not idle. His tall form, 
with long and steady stride, was hastening forward “ on 
business for the King.” It did not' occur to him what 
he should do when he reached Tracey’s and had been 
supplied with food. At present he was ‘ * obeying orders ” 
—and beyond that his thought did not go. It was in¬ 
deed a long walk he had undertaken, and it was just at 
dusk that he reached his destination. The Half-way 
House was a lonely hostelry, situated at the intersec¬ 
tion of two roads, with no other house in sight, and 
was a common stopping-place for persons passing to and- 
from the city. Nat stepped boldly upon the broad 
piazza in front, and with full consciousness of his right 
walked unhesitatingly into the pleasant sitting-room. 
Mrs. Tracey came forward to meet him. 
“ Why, Nat, is that you?” 
“ Yes’m,” he answered gravely. “ I was told to come 
here an’ get a square meal. The King sent me.” 
" The King sent you? Well, I guess I’ll have to give 
you a supper then,” said she. “And by the way. Nat, 
did you see my husband on your way here ? ” 
" Yes’m; and he said for me to tell you he’d be home 
to-morrer night, and for you not to be uneasy about that 
money.” 
“ O dear! I did so hope he’d come this evening.” she 
sighed. 
She was indeed uneasy on account of the money in 
the house. She had slept but little the preceding night 
thi nkin g about it, and had worried about it all through 
the day, and now another lonely night was before her. 
As she was preparing supper for her guest another 
thought came to her. Could she not induce Nat to stop 
there for the night ? His notion of wandering made it 
an uncertain request, and even if he remained, with his 
beclouded intellect, he could not be depended on in case 
of trouble. Still he would be company, and perhaps he 
might aid her—she prayed for that—if she needed help. 
" Nat,” she said, as she poured out a glass of milk for 
him, “ won’t you stay here to night?” 
“ I don’t know whether it be orders.” he answered 
uncertainly. “Parson said the King sent out his mes¬ 
sengers, an’ they wasn’t to take no money nor nothin’ 
to eat, an’ I don’t know if it be right to stop.” 
“ O yes it is,” replied Mrs. Tracey, catching at once 
an idea of his thoughts. “ I heard what the parson said 
too. When the King’s messenger entered a house he 
was to abide there—that is to stop. Don’t you remem¬ 
ber?” 
Nat considered the proposition. 
“ Yqs’m, that’s his orders. I’ll stop,” he said. 
“ And, Nat,” pursued the lady, rendered eager by her 
success, “there’s another thing the King said—vou 
heard it at Sunday-school. He said, 1 Suffer little chil¬ 
dren to come unto me’—that is, such little children as 
mine there,” pointing to them as they stood at her side 
“ And the King said, too, • Whosoever shall offend one 
of these little ones it is better for him that a millstone 
were hanged about his neck and he were cast into the 
sea. The King doesn’t wish any harm to come to his 
little ones, in any way—you remember that?” 
“Yes’m,” replied Nat absently. 
“Well, then,” continued Mrs. Tracey, driving the 
concluding nail into her argument, “if any bad. wicked 
men should come here to-night, and try to hurt me or 
these little ones that belong to the King, you would 
help us, wouldn’t you ?” 
She waited anxiously for the reply. Nat looked at 
her vaguely for a moment, and then his eye wandered 
aimlessly around the room, and then back to her. 
Finally he said quietly : „ 
“ The King sent me. I’ll obey orders. 
How far he understood she did not know, and all her 
effort could draw out no more definite reply, and with 
that she was obliged to be content. As the evening 
grew late she provided her guest with a sleeping-place 
in an adjoining room, by throwing a few quilts on the 
floor—for Nat would sleep nowhere else—and then she 
lay down, without undressing, on a bed beside her chil¬ 
dren. But it was a long time before slumber visited 
her troubled spirit. . , 
As for Nat, no thought of worry or anxiety for the 
future was on his mind, and lie “slept the sleep of the 
just” and his dreams were peaceful. But after a time 
those dreams became disturbed and discordant a voice 
seemed to be calling to him from his King, and present¬ 
ly he awakened with a start. 
“ Nat! help! Nat, the King wants you !” came in 
smothered tones from the other room. 
In an instant he sprang lightly to his feet, and grasp-- 
ing his stick he strode forward and opened the door. A 
fearful struggle met his view as he entered. Two rough, 
evil-looking men were there—one holding Mrs. Tracey, 
the other the children—and the villians were evidently 
trying to bind and gag then victims. As Nat witnessed 
the scene his tall form seemed to tower yet higher, and 
a strange, fierce fight gleamed from Iris eyes. 
“I belong to the King!” he thundered. “How dare 
you offend "his little ones?” 
At this unexpected intrusion one of the burglars re¬ 
leased his hold of Mrs. Tracey, and sprang forward 
with an oath to meet him. But it was in vain. The 
great stick was whirled in the ah, and then came down 
with fearful force on the head of the villian, and lie 
sank senseless to the floor. The remaining burglar 
hastened to his comrade’s assistance, but he was like a 
child in the hands of a giant, and in a moment he, too,, 
was helpless and motionless. Nat stooped and drew 
the two insensible forms toward him. 
“Now bring them ropes, and I’ll hang a”—he paused, 
and left the sentence unfinished. “But there ain’t no 
millstones ’bout here to hang ’round their necks!” he 
added, looking up bewildered. “Do you b’lieve a big 
rock would do ? I must obey orders.” 
“No, I don’t believe a rock would do.” replied Mrs, 
Tracey, smiling in spite of her alarm. “But they will 
be coming to presently; I would just tie then- hands 
and feet and leave them until morning 
“ Yes’m, so I will. The King said tie ’em hand and 
foot—that’s liis orders. They won’t offend liis little 
ones any more,” and in a few minutes Nat had them 
safely secured. 
I need not tell of the night that followed, of how Nat- 
kept sleepless guard over his captives,and of how, when 
morning came and help came with it, the burglars were 
safely lodged m the county jail. All that is easily sur¬ 
mised. But at last Nat was a hero—not only in his own 
eyes but in the eyes of all others. He bore his honors 
meekly and with digmty. as a right belonging to a ser¬ 
vant of the King He accepted the numerous con¬ 
gratulations and hand-shakings, wondering, perhaps, 
what it all meant, and replying to the questions heaped 
upon him with the simple statement: “I just obeyed 
or dels. Nothing, however, could induce him to accept 
any reward for h,s services. The royal command was 
to take no bread, no money in his purse, and he would 
But Nat did not lack for friends after that. He still 
continued his wandering, and, as the stoiy spread 
homes and hearts were open to him everywhere But it 
was at Tracey’s that he was more especlafiy welcomed 
and as the years came and went it was noticed tliThis 
visits became more frequent and Ins stays more pro¬ 
longed. Indeed, as Tracey expressed it • y P 
is. is 
-[Erskine II. Hamilton, in “ Our Continent." 
- 1 -** 
