It was a special privilege accorded to the boy, to investigate the numerous advertisement samples which poured in upon the wealthy owner of Farncourt. Now it was a bottle of horse-liniment, or a dainty tin containing some new style of food for pheasants--now a neat box of super-fine cigarettes, or a packet of some special blend of tea--all professing to be the very best and cheapest of their kind ever yet put upon the market. It was an exciting occupation to cut the string and discover the contents, and Julius never failed to find amusement in the process. "Yes, yes," said his father impatiently, in answer to the boy’s question, as he gathered up his letters and went off to the study with them. "Look what a very funny advertisement this is," said Julius, a few minutes later, as he opened the study door. "Neither Jenkins nor I can understand what it’s meant for." He laid a narrow cardboard box before his father, in which reposed, on cottonwool, a short wooden penholder, the end of which had been evidently burnt off, as the blackened stump clearly testified. "There was only a scrap of paper besides, with one sentence on it," continued Julius, as he read out the following words-- "’WAS IT NOT WRITTEN WITH A PEN LIKE THIS?’" Mr. Field started up and seized the slip from the boy. "Some wretched joke," he said, but Julius saw that his father’s hand trembled as he spoke. "I’ll open my parcels for myself in the future. It’s scandalous that anyone should be subjected to vulgar pranks like this. I’ll inform the police if it goes on, and you can tell Jenkins so, if it’s true what you said about his having seen this silly hoax." There was only one very small parcel addressed to Mr. Field next morning, which, being marked "private," excited Jenkins’ curiosity to the uttermost. This time no one but the owner saw the contents, for the study door was locked when they were brought into the light of day. Only an old match-box, with one dead bee carefully enshrined, rewarded Mr. Field’s research, and he was apparently completely puzzled as to the meaning of the strange consignment. "I see they’ve written ’to be continued in our next’ on the top of the box," he said, "so perhaps the answer to the riddle will come to-morrow." His supposition was correct, for sure enough a postcard which seemed to give the clue arrived by the very first mail. In one corner was scribbled the word "continued," and in large capitals right across the card were printed the four letters-- "WARE."