sel. Before the sailors and the travellers could
recover from their surprise, land was sighted and they saw that they
were indeed entering the harbour.

Just as the ship was darting toward the shore the fairy suddenly, with
a parting word to Ying-lo, changed into a flaming ball of fire which
rolled along the deck and ascended the spars. Then, as it reached the
top of the rigging, it floated off into the blue sky, and all on board,
speechless with surprise, watched it until it vanished.

With a cry of thanksgiving, Ying-lo flung his arms about his parents and
descended with them to the shore.

THE WOODEN TABLET

[Illustration]

"Yes, my boy, whatever happens, be sure to save that tablet. It is the
only thing we have left worth keeping."

K'ang-p'u's father was just setting out for the city, to be gone all
day. He had been telling K'ang-p'u about some work in the little garden,
for the boy was a strong and willing helper.

"All right, father, I'll do what you tell me; but suppose the foreign
soldiers should come while you are gone? I heard that they were over at
T'ang Shu yesterday and burned the village. If they should come here,
what must I do?"

Mr. Lin laughed heartily. "Why, there's nothing here for them to burn,
if it comes to that!--a mud house, a grass roof, and a pile of ragged
bedding. Surely they won't bother my little hut. It's loot they're
after--money--or something they can sell."

"But, father," persisted the boy, "haven't you forgotten? Surely you
wouldn't wish them to burn your father's tablet?"

"Quite right; for the moment I did forget. Yes, yes, my boy, whatever
happens be sure to save the tablet. It is the only thing we have worth
keeping."

With that, Mr. Lin went out at the gate, leaving K'ang-p'u standing all
alone. The little fellow was scarcely twelve years old. He had a bright,
sunny face and a happy heart. Being left by himself did not mean tears
and idleness for him.

He went into the poor little house and stood for a moment looking
earnestly at the wooden tablet. It was on a shelf in the one-roomed
shanty, an oblong piece of wood about twelve inches high, enclosed in
a wooden case. Through the carved screen work in the front, K'ang-p'u
could see his grandfather's name written in Chinese characters on the
tablet. Ever since babyhood K'ang-p'u had been taught to look at this
piece of wood with a feeling of reverence.

"Your grandfather's spirit is inside," his father ha