n seemed to delight the listening lads more and more with each
repetition.

"Vere vos dot Varmont, sir?" demanded Hans, with a great show of
dignity. "Vos it a cidy alretty yet, or vos it a village?"

"Oh, yer gol dern ignerent critter---- Er--er--excuse me, sir! I
fergot whut I wuz sayin', dam my skin ef I didn't! Varmont is a State,
an' one of ther smartest gol derned States in ther Union, by gum!"

"Vos dot so? I subbose you exbect dot Varmont vos peen large enough to
be a cidy britty soon, ain'd id?"

"Wal, gol blame my eyes! Don't you know ther difference betwixt a
State an' a city? Ef ye don't, I think you'd best go studdy yer
jografry some more."

"Don'd ged so oxcited, sir," cautioned the Dutch boy, with a wave of
one pudgy hand. "Id don'd peen goot your health for. Vos dot Varmont
a broductive Sdate?"

"Productive! Wal, you bet yer last dollar! We kin raise more grass to
ther square acre----"

"Vell, how apout hayseeds? You raise dose ub there py der quandity, I
pelief me?"

"What makes ye think so?"

"Because your hair vos full of id."

"What's that? what's that?" cried Ephraim, in astonishment, quickly
removing his cap and clawing through his hair with his fingers.
"Hayseed in my hair? Darned if I believe it!"

The boys roared, and the face of the country lad grew crimson.

"You're havin' a gol derned pile of fun with me," he said, sheepishly.
"Wal, sail right in an' have it. I kin stand it."

"Begobs! it's nivver a bit roight at all, at all," said a boy with a
rich Irish brogue, and Barney Mulloy pushed his Dutch friend aside.
"Av it's a soldier yure goin' to be, me b'y, it's instructions in
military tictacks you nade. Now, sur, in case ye wur on guarrud at
noight, an' should foind yure post invaded by the simultaneous
appearance av the commandant an' corporal av th' guarrud on th' roight,
the gineral-in-chafe an' staff on th' left, an' a rigimint av
red-headed girrulls behindt yez, all wearin' bloomers an' arrumed to
th' tathe wid corrun-brooms an' feather-dusthers, which would yez
advance firrust wid th' countysoign?"

This sort of a question, put to a plebe with all sorts of twists and
variations, was time-honored at Fardale, whither it had come from West
Point, where plebes are puzzled with some variation of it year after
year.

The country boy grinned a bit, and, still with his little fingers
touching the seams of his trousers and the palms of his hands turned to
the