"It sounds very shocking, and I for one do not approve," said Miss Joanna, with her customary decision. "I do not like the idea," murmured Miss Dorcas. "It seems--really, it seems--as if something ought to be done--to correct. But I do not know--" faltered Miss Melissa. "Suppose I go with her to the place and see what they intend to do?" suggested Miss Thomasine. "Do, sister!" said Miss Middleton. "It will ease my mind greatly if you will." So Miss Thomasine went to her room, and with much deliberation dressed herself for a walk to the garden with her niece. She put on her head a large sun-hat drawn down on both sides with a broad white ribbon. This ribbon she crossed beneath her chin and tied on top of the hat, which was unadorned with other trimming. She placed upon her shoulders a black silk mantilla, and drew on her brown thread gloves, the fingers of which were very long and remained empty at the tips. Then she took her sunshade and descended the stairs, calling to her niece as she went. [Illustration: ON THE WAY TO THE CAT'S FUNERAL.] The door of the great drawing-room was slowly opened, and Theodora came out. Her face was much flushed, and she held one hand concealed beneath her apron. Together they walked out the side door and down the gravelled path to the garden. They had scarcely left the house before Miss Joanna went down to the parlor to attend to her task of dusting the foreign treasures. They were not intrusted to the house-maids, for the five sisters did it each in turn. In a few moments she returned to the spare chamber and carefully closed the door behind her. "Sisters," she exclaimed, "look at this!" She held up for their inspection a small piece of yellow Chinese porcelain. "This," said she, "is all that is left of the Middleton bowl." [TO BE CONTINUED.] A LOYAL TRAITOR. A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND. BY JAMES BARNES. CHAPTER XII. A PRISONER OF WAR. I suppose that a man who has been almost drowned--to the limit that all sense leaves him, at least--has drunk as deep of death as a person can and talk of it afterwards. With a shifting light before my eyes, a throbbing pain in my temples, and a sickness all through me, I found myself knowing that I was breathing once more; but I was water-logged, and when I attempted to move, I could feel that I was filled to the throat with some gallons of brine. All at once I doubled up with a spasm of choking, and in a minute I felt better. I was lying in the bow of a boat, whose motion I could feel distinctly, but owing to the thwart being immediately over my head, I could see nothing but a succession of sturdy legs and bare feet pushing against the stretchers as the men rowed. Such an attack of hiccoughs racked me that it called attention to my having regained my senses.