"Ned," said he, "I can't talk about it. I can hardly think or feel yet; but you understand," he gasped out. I thought I did understand, so I held out my hand. His hand felt like a lump of ice. Sam Stacker was a sight to see. He had the hang of the whole thing. Its value as an advertisement made him perfectly dizzy with delight, but he was wild with misery at the same time, because he hadn't the cheek--and Sam was a cheeky fellow too--to propose that the Valbella Brothers should continue their performances; and between admiration and chagrin he was almost crazy. All that day he was like a wild man, and finally, considering the Valbella Brothers would discontinue their performances immediately, as our reconciliation didn't go the length of acting together again, we concluded to appear before the curtain at the close of the Christmas performance that night, just to please Sam. As soon as Sam found it out he got out the biggest posters to be had for love or money, saying we would appear on the stage that night, although we were both too disabled by the severe shock we had received to take any further part in the performances. We went, and when the curtain rose at the end of the last act, and we were bowing, one on each side of Sam, you never heard such a perfectly terrible commotion in your life; and the next instant a party of gentlemen rustled out of a box, headed by the mayor of the town, and, advancing to the stage, made a long address. I didn't take in what it was about, but at last it dawned upon my feeble intelligence that the mayor was commending my bravery for rescuing my comrade by tying him to the trapeze, and presenting me with a magnificent gold watch and chain. Of course I couldn't say a word, but Sam Stacker returned thanks for me. He said it was the greatest occasion of his life, and I believe it was. He spoke three quarters of an hour, in a voice like a steam calliope, and waving his arms up and down like a Dutch windmill. It makes my head swim now to think about that speech. After it was all over I took Sam aside. "Sam," says I, "don't you know if I hadn't tied Ted to the trapeze he'd have fallen and dragged the valve open, and we'd both have been killed?" "D'ye think I'm a durned fool?" said Sam quite fiercely. "Certainly I know it, but I ain't a-going to tell them blooming idiots and lunk-heads yonder that don't know beans from thunder." These were the gentlemen whom Sam had just been apostrophizing as the noblest examples of human virtue and intelligence he had ever yet come across during a long experience with the greatest show on earth. Well, there isn't much more to tell. The Valbella Brothers partnership was dissolved, but I stayed on with Sam, and am at present part proprietor of the show. I forgot to say that Jenny and I were married just before the performance that Christmas night. THEODORA.