'Let's go to the telegraph-office and cable,' I said. 'Can't you hear the New York _World_ crying for news of the great sea-serpent, blind, white, and smelling of musk, stricken to death by a submarine volcano, and assisted by his loving wife to die in mid-ocean, as visualised by an American citizen, the breezy, newsy, brainy newspaper man of Dayton, Ohio? 'Rah for the Buckeye State. Step lively! Both gates! Szz! Boom! Aah!' Keller was a Princeton man, and he seemed to need encouragement. 'You've got me on your own ground,' said he, tugging at his overcoat pocket. He pulled out his copy, with the cable forms--for he had written out his telegram--and put them all into my hand, groaning, 'I pass. If I hadn't come to your cursed country--If I'd sent it off at Southampton--If I ever get you west of the Alleghannies, if----' 'Never mind, Keller. It isn't your fault. It's the fault of your country. If you had been seven hundred years older you'd have done what I am going to do.' 'What are you going to do?' 'Tell it as a lie.' 'Fiction?' This with the full-blooded disgust of a journalist for the illegitimate branch of the profession. 'You can call it that if you like. I shall call it a lie.' And a lie it has become; for Truth is a naked lady, and if by accident she is drawn up from the bottom of the sea, it behoves a gentleman either to give her a print petticoat or to turn his face to the wall and vow that he did not see. MOWGLI'S BROTHERS Now Chil the Kite brings home the night That Mang the Bat sets free-- The herds are shut in byre and hut For loosed till dawn are we. This is the hour of pride and power, Talon and tush and claw. Oh hear the call!--Good hunting all That keep the Jungle Law! _Night-Song in the Jungle_. It was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day's rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips. Mother Wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped across her four tumbling, squealing cubs, and the moon shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived. 'Augrh!' said Father Wolf, 'it is time to hunt again'; and he was going to spring down hill when a little shadow with a bushy tail crossed the threshold and whined: 'Good luck go with you, O Chief of the Wolves; and good luck and strong white teeth go with the noble children, that they may never forget the hungry in this world.'