“Pooh!” said Arthur; “what’s the odds? To an archaeologist isn’t a copper coin as precious as a gold one? Of course it is. Hallo, Phil! Haven’t you got that pot cleaned out yet? I’ve got an idea. I’ll put these sous in the pot, and then we can say that we’ve found a pot of money. We’ll be generous, too--we’ll give it all to the Museum.” Phil’s pot by this time was empty, and Arthur laughingly threw the sous into it. After this they began their search again, and enlarged the hole in hopes of finding more around the sides. And in this they were successful, for they found, near, a dozen more copper coins, which made a very respectable appearance in the pot, and in addition to these, about a dozen bits of iron--nails, spikes, and bolts. “Hallo, boys! look here!” cried Bart, suddenly. He held in his hand an old, discolored bone. “Talking about relics,” said he, “here’s a relic of the original owner. The question is though, is it a human bone?” “Pooh!” said Arthur; “it’s an ox bone, or a horse.” “Not a bit of it,” said Bart. “I’m determined that it shall be Benedict Bellefontaine.” “It’s a horse’s bone,” said Phil. “No,” said Bart; “I’ll keep it carefully, and let the doctor have it. It will be the most precious article in the Museum.” It was now growing too dark to work any longer. The sun had set, and they were satisfied with the result of their labors. So they gathered together their treasures, and set out for the Academy. These treasures seemed to them to be by no means despicable. They were,-- 1 ploughshare, 1 colter, 4 bolts, 1 chain, 1 iron pot, 3 nails, 2 bits of iron, 2 spikes, 13 copper coins, 1 bone. And any one who has ever been connected with a small museum, or has ever been acquainted with those who are connected with a valuable institution like that, will easily understand the value of articles like these, exhumed direct from the cellar of an old Acadian house. The boys felt no doubt whatever as to the value of their treasure. In fact, they grew so excited over it that they began at last to think what they had found far better than what they hoped to find; and so it resulted that those who had gone out to find gold came back rejoicing in rusty iron. On reaching the Academy they went at once to Dr. Porter’s house. They found the doctor at home, and were ushered up at once to his study. The boys said nothing, but gravely, and in impressive silence, laid down their treasures on the doctor’s study table. It was covered with books and papers; but they were too oblivious of every thing, and too much absorbed in the contemplation of their own things, to think of that. So Bruce entered first, and placed on the doctor’s table, right over some handsome volumes of Euripides, just received from London, the rusty, dirty old ploughshare. “Hallo!” cried the doctor. “Why! what!--”