But he very soon saw there would n't be no chimney-corner at Toby Hele's, for Toby was poor himself and did n't offer Beth anything more exciting than to share his mother's cottage; SO Mannaford turned Toby down short and sharp, and even pretended 't was proper cheek on Toby's part to look so high as Beth. Not that that deceived anybody, because, so far as money went, the girl was worse off than the man, and though a bowerly creature, she could n't be counted any particular catch, for she had a kick in her speech and a doubtful temper. But Toby wanted her with all his might, and she was determined to take him; so his wits set to work, and such is the power of love that it makes even a weak man braver than usual, and fires the coward to take risks he 'd never dream about in his every-day senses.

First, however, before he set out on any doubtful trick to come by money, Tobias went to his friend, the vicar, and was a good bit put about to find he drew a blank. For the Rev. Valletort, though a Christian to his toe-nails, was human, and could be as selfish as any miser when he was touched on the raw. And well he knew that Toby's usefulness to him would be gone forever if he took a wife and became a family-man. Besides, he was a bachelor himself, being far too taken up with old stones and old books to wed a wife; and so, when he heard Toby wanted to be married, but was refused the girl till he could show five shillings a week more money, the reverend took it in a very indifferent spirit and did n't offer any assistance, but advised Toby to put the thing away from him and not slight his natural accomplishments or hide 'em under such a bushel as marriage too often proves to be. So he got no comfort there, and was just turning over things in his mind and working himself into a rash and reckless spirit, when that happened at the church to quicken his wits and start him on a very dangerous adventure.

Parson got a legacy left him, and told everybody about it in his next sermon; for the man had n't a secret in the world, I do believe, and his sermons were more just friendly talks about himself and the people than right down proper sermons. Now he'd mention this man or that woman by name over the pulpit; and now it would be the childer, or this or that doing in the

parish; and now it would be the crops or the lambing, and so on; and once he asked Farmer Parsons right out if 't was true he 'd turned off young Billy Bassett for picking blackberries after Sunday-school; and farmer answered back afore the congregation that he had done so. Then his reverence explained the situation, and assured everybody that there was no harm for a lad or maid to pick a nut or blackberry on the Lord's Day, if they'd been to church and Sunday-school first. And he hoped that Parsons would reconsider the subject. And farmer, who was a broad-minded man, replied that, if his reverence felt that way, he 'd take Billy back; which he did do.

So you may be sure that when he got his legacy of two thousand pounds, our parson told us all about it; and more than that, for he said how he was going to spend most of it, also. And some said he was right, but most thought he was wrong.

Upon the church he planned to squander very near every penny of that huge sum, and he got a faculty, or some such thing, from them in authority, and set to work to undo a lot that had been done a hundred year back or more.

"I'm going to restore our beautiful church," he said in a sermon afore the work was begun, "and by that I do not mean to make the house of the Lord hideous, and sweep away the noble efforts of those who builded in Tudor times; but it is my wish to bring back out of this evil chaos the former chaste severity and purity of line before the so-called restoration of Anne's reign-a reign architecturally distressing to every right-minded antiquary."

He went on like that, and presently we found that, far from making the church any smarter and warmer and more comfortable, he was going to pull down a lot of mason's work between the old pillars, and throw out the old north aisle, which had been practically walled up for a century. Then there was an old painting over the east end,—at least scraps of it,and this was whitewashed; and he was going to have the whitewash took off and the painting restored, if it could be done. And the bosses of the wagon-roof had rotted away; but he knowed they was carved in the arms of the ancient family of Hele, and meant to have 'em done again. In fact, his honor properly let himself loose

on the church, and presently, when a score of men got to work and he found his money was holding out well, he sprang still more notions, and started explorations in the walls and a lot of little games that had n't nothing to do with the sacred. building, but only ministered to his own curiosity. It got on the nerves of some of the old members after a bit, because there was a lot of dirt in the holy building, and the drafts came in through the holes, and it looked as if law and order would never return to St. Christopher's. But parson told us all about it every Sunday; and now and then the workmen would find a bit of wrought stone or an old nail or what not, and his reverence properly glowed talking about these things, and always threw out great hopes of what the next week would bring forth. You see, he was after the treasure of Sir Tobias Hele, among other matters, and he most firmly clung to it that the dead man's stuff was hid in the church. So sure was he that he made a good few hopeful beside himself; and one, above all the rest, began to build in secret on that rainbow gold.

Toby Hele had got his own ideas on the subject; but he kept them to himself very close, and it was n't until after his fearful experience that we remembered he had been about in the church a lot at the time and always at the elbows of the workers. And sometimes when they were pulling down, or probing a bit of the old masonry, Toby would lend a hand, and sometimes he 'd watch of a night; for some man always watched while the work was going on. None thought anything of it, however, because it was supposed the vicar had appointed him to oversee the men, and not let them hide aught of value that might come to hand in their researches. So the work of pulling down and cleaning up went on, and all the Queen Anne mess was cleared out of the church, and the people fairly rubbed their eyes to see the north aisle, a sight that had been lost to three generations, if not more. But some of the old folk liked it little, because there was an echo in it, and now the church was made a third so big again, the hotting apparatus proved far too weak to warm it. So some was at the Rev. Valletort to get a new stove with mightier power; but he defied them, and said a stove was abomination, in his opinion, and he 'd just

an

as soon put new organs and reed-pipes in the place as a new warmer.

"There's a lot too much talked about warmth and comfort in the house of God," he said in a sermon at that time, and he talked at old Simon White, the cordwainer, who had started the grumble. "And I'd have you to know, Simon, my friend, and any others who feel like you do, that we don't come to St. Christopher's to be warm and comfortable. Such mean creature enjoyments," he says, "can be got to home, where the weaker vessels among us may toast their feet and ease their backs, with a pipe and a glass of a night, and why not, so long as they only yield to these luxuries when the day's work is ended and no call of duty remains to be answered? But this is the terrible house of the Lord," says the reverend gentleman, "and the man or woman whose thoughts wander to their feet or their backs, or who feels a draft in their ear-holes when they ought to be waiting in fear and trembling to hear the whisper of their Maker in their hearts, that man or woman has mistaken the purposes of this place of worship. Their faith is weak; their danger is great; they stand in peril of a warmth, without comfort, that may endure through eternity."

In this valiant manner he would talk to us, and then, out of kindly consideration to the frailer people,-them that can't pray properly with a rick in the back or cold feet, he explained that his work was nearly done. And so it was. But two yards of masonry remained to examine, and a week more was to see it accomplished; while as for the whitewash on the ancient picture, a skilled workman from Exeter had scratched it off, and there was revealed a woebegone creature, all eyes and legs, with a beard like a bush. And most people said they wished the whitewash back, for the forlorn object only made the grown-ups puzzle and the young ones laugh; but his reverence set high store upon it, and said that it was St. Christopher himself, standing thigh-deep in the flood, and all put there in the time of Queen Bess, or maybe earlier. There was a lot of fuss made, and learned men came from far ways off to see it, and some got properly hot about it, and argued against what his reverence said. But of course he knew best, and they went off

with their tails between their legs when he broke loose upon them in all the wonder of his learning.

Then came in Tobias Hele-the live thatcher, not the dead knight. He'd got properly struck with the idea of the secret hoard, and long before they reached to the last bit of old wall, Tobias had poked about it and found out 't was hollow. And he'd summed up in his mind the treasure was there; and he 'd gone a lot further than that also, and summed up in his mind the treasure was his.

You see, the Rev. Valletort had led him in a sort of way to that outrageous idea, because he 'd told Hele that no doubt he was descended through yeoman stock from the ancient lords of the manor, and taking into consideration Toby's nice build and delicate hands and gentlemanlike face, he had told him that it looked as if he was a set-back to the old, fine blood, despite the fact it had doubtless run in the kennel among common people for so many generations.

And so Toby, who only wanted a bit of nonsense like that to spur him on, solemnly pretended that he might count himself the proper heir to the treasure. But he had the wit to know that none would agree with him, and so it followed naturally he set out to get the stuff singlehanded, without taking any man into his confidence. But a woman he took, and Beth Mannaford knew all about it, and she was very wishful for him to succeed, as she confessed after. Because money meant marriage for her, and though Toby knew enough to guess he would n't find Bank of England crowns and sovereigns hid in the church, he 'd worked hisself up to believing there might be plenty of precious stuff there he could turn into cash, if once he got his fingers to it.

And what he done was this: he took the night watchman's place. And somewhere after midnight, when all Whiteworthy was to bed and asleep, Tobias turned his attention to the hollow wallchamber. 'T was to come down the next day, and he 'd got his lesson pat, no doubt, and was ready to explain that for interest in the subject he 'd fetched down the wall and saved a man or two his labor next morning. Of course if he 'd found any valuables, his purpose was to hide 'em for his own use; and if the vicar had raised

a question, he 'd have told him he 'd made good search, and found the hole empty.

Yet what happened was very different, and no less a man than the Rev. Valletort himself told the rest of the tale. What he knew of it, that is; for nobody but Beth Mannaford ever heard the whole truth while Toby Hele lived. You see, the man wanted all his small pluck and more to bide in the church alone by night, with naught save a horn lantern for company; and certain it is that he 'd never have offered for such work if his great love for Beth and his hope of winning her with the treasure had not made him so brave as a robin just for the moment. But that happened then to scare a heaven-born hero, I'm sure, and there's few men living now in Whiteworthy, and not a man living there in them days, if you except the vicar himself, who would have faced what Toby faced and kept their courage, even if they kept their senses.

Anyway, he did n't keep either, and but for his reverence I doubt the man would have come out alive.

You see, parson, by good chance was called out to old Noah Westlake's deathbed, and Noah flickered long afore he went. In fact, 't was two of the clock and a rough winter's night before the ancient man gave up his spirit to its Maker. With that the reverend goes home, and takes the short cut through the lich-gate and among the graves. Tramping along slow, and not thinking of anything but his old parishioner, parson suddenly hears a dull sound in the holy building, and listens, and goes on the grass to make no noise. 'T was a muffled hammering he heard, and he knew in a moment that somebody was to work there. That pleased him rather than not, for he guessed that only Toby Hele was the man to work by night in that way; and so he peeped in the window, and there made out Toby, sure enough. Then parson was going round to the outer wall, where only a tarpaulin kept the weather out of the north aisle for the moment; but before he got there he heard the awfulest scream that ever echoed in the Lord's house. And then he heard another, and when he groped in, there was Toby flying down the church like a maniac, and waving his lantern, and yowling for mercy, and calling Heaven to save him from a fearful spectrum.

Parson seed the man was demented, and got hold on him, and called upon God to let the evil spirit out of the wretch; and presently Hele began to gibber and laugh like a luny, and his reverence seed the man's wits were wandering. He bided

with him in the squire's pew, and talked and sobered him down after a good while; and then by fits and between his ravings. the poor soul explained that he 'd just broke through the stonework to the hollow within, when what should he see but a dreadful ghost glaring out upon him!

""T is the keeper of the treasure, and I 've seen him, and I shall die inside the year. I know it, for nobody could see nothing like that and live," he whimpered to the vicar. And then he fell to weeping and wailing, and his bitter tears seemed to clear his brain a bit; for he swore to the reverend clergyman that he was only there in a proper and prayerful spirit, and never meant to take a threepenny piece of what he might find. Of course the vicar did n't doubt him, for he put complete faith in Toby to the end, and thinking the lantern light had deceived the man, or maybe he'd unearthed an ancient gargoyle, or some such like fine thing, his reverence took the light and went to see for himself what had knocked the wits out of the younger man.

And he found the hollow in the wall about as big as the mouth of an oven, and there, sure enough, staring through it without any eyes, was a human head. A bit of hair was left on it yet; but for the rest 't was just a 'natomy, and vicar, with his far-reaching knowledge, understood in a moment that he stood afore a treasure. The dead creature that had shook up Toby so bad did naught but properly delight his reverence; and if he 'd found a barrel of gold and diamonds, he would n't have been half so pleased. In fact, he set to work there and then to pull down the masonry, and he made the trembling Tobias help him.

By the lantern they worked and found a proper rogue's roost of a hole in the wall, and the skull of a man stuck on an iron nail, and the rest of the bones of him in a heap down under. And the reverend fairly sang praises at this mournful sight, and could n't understand for the life. of him why Tobias were n't equally joyful. For he said 't was the most interesting thing as had ever happened to him in

all his interesting life, and next Sunday, of course, his sermon was full of it. But Hele was n't there to hear, for they had to take him to hospital after his adventure, and he bided there a good while, with the doctors working at him.

'T was just a grand, old church-grim, you see, that Toby had found, and the way of them is this, as the Rev. Valletort explained. Of old the custom was to have a watcher in every church, because in the good, past days the churches was a lot richer than now, and afore that dratted Reformation the holy places was full of plate and fine linen and silver candlesticks and such like things that the pious poured into 'em for their souls' sakes. So there was watch-lofts set up, where a trusty man bided by night to see that the thieves, who were commoner then than now, did n't break in to plunder. But presently some chap with a turn for invention bethought him that a dead watchman might be just so clever as a live one, and a lot cheaper. And of course everybody believed in ghosts in them days; so there came in the fashion of church-grims. of church-grims. They was generally evil-doers, cut off in the midst of their sins, or put out of the way by rope or ax for their wrong-doing. And no doubt it. was reckoned by kindly men of a religious turn of mind that such unruly and wicked members might atone for their lives and get pardon for their crimes by the merciful goodness of the Lord, if they were walled up in the holy places, to watch till doom and the day of judgment. No doubt it was on the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief, and you may be sure that many a dead thief was walled up for his spectrum to scare away the living ones in those exciting times. But whether our church-grim done his work well before Toby Hele's time, I cannot say. Certain it is, however, that he got back on Toby, and the man was never the same again, for his hair went white afore he turned fifty.

We had the old bones carefully walled up once more, after all the parish and a brave rally of learned men had seen them, and out of evil came good even for Toby, too; for such was the man's collapse that he could n't sleep in his bed alone no more after the fearful adventure, and when the vicar heard how the affair had told upon him, for sheer gratitude to Hele for his

great discovery, and quite forgetting the church-grim must have come to the light next day, whether or no, he gave Tobias five shillings a week for his natural life, and thought better of him than ever as a martyr to learning.

And with an addition like that to his money, of course the man was in a case to wed. Which he did do, and went so straight as a line ever after, by all ac

counts.

Not till he came to his own death-bed did he confess he was up to no good on that far-famed night in St. Christopher's; but Toby did n't tell the story to Parson

Valletort, because he, good man, had long been gathered to his fathers. It was to my own father that he told it a week before his end, and my father did n't blame the man overmuch, because, though at first sight it had looked as if he was rewarded for wrong-doing, instead of punished, as he deserved to be, yet, as father said, you had to remember the price. Toby's spirit was never stronger than a girl child's from that night; and besides, he was often heard to whisper that he had no luck with his wife, after all. Very like she thought the same of him, even if she had too much pride to confess it.

ACROSS the great expanse of Kjöge

CROSS the great expanse of Kjöge

ble as a group of factory chimneys under a firmament of smoke. We approached it rapidly upon smooth water, and ran into the narrowing bottle-neck of Kallebo, with the main island of Sjælland to the west and the appendant island of Amager to the east. Copenhagen stands on both, straddling over a wide connecting bridge which carries double lines of electric trams and all the traffic of a metropolis. When a yacht, even a small one, wishes to enter the harbor, this bridge is cut in two and lifted into the air, and the traffic impatiently champs its bit while waiting for the yacht.

Apparently they understand yachts at Copenhagen, as they do in Holland. At the outer barrier of the harbor we were not even requested to stop. A cheerful and beneficent functionary cried out for our name, our captain's name, our tonnage, and our immediate origin, and, his curiosity being sated, waved us onward. The great bridge bisected itself for us with singular promptitude. Nevertheless,

the gold-buttoned man in charge thereof from his high perch signaled to us that our burgee was too small. We therefore, having nothing else handy to placate him, ran up a blue ensign to the masthead; but it looked so excessively odd there, so acutely contrary to the English etiquette of yachts, that we at once hauled it down again. No further complaint was made.

We were now in the haven, and over the funnels of many ships we could see the city. It was all copper domes and roofs; and we saw that it was a proud city, and a city where exposed copper turns to a beautiful green instead of to black, as in London. Splendid copper domes are the chief symptom of Copenhagen. After all the monotonous, tiny provincialism of the peninsula and of the islands, it was sensational to find a vast capital at the far end of the farthest island. We thought we were coming to the end of the world, and we came to a complete and dazzling city that surpassed, for example, Brussels in its imposingness. We turned westward out of the main channel into the heart of the town, and in a moment were tied up