e great bare field where the review was
to be that afternoon, and they looked splendidly.

Colonel Dunway was saying so, as he sat in front of them, on his
handsome black colt, and a number of other officers who were riding with
him said the same, and so did the ladies who were keeping them company.

Just then the bugle sounded again, from the head of the column, and Prue
had to hold on hard, for Hannibal suddenly began to canter, and he
answered the music with a loud, clear whinny of delight.

Barry was half out of breath with running, but he kept up with the other
two, and in a moment more Hannibal halted, proudly arching his neck, and
treading daintily upon the grass, right in front of the regiment.

"I declare," exclaimed Colonel Dunway, "the old fellow has come to
review the troops."

"So has Prue," said one of the officers.

Barry hardly knew whether to laugh or to cry, but the soldiers suddenly
broke out in a grand "hurrah."

They were cheering Prue and her war-horse, and Colonel Dunway himself
was compelled to let the "three children" stay and keep the place
Hannibal chose for them at the head of the regiment.

There was plenty of apples for Nibble that day.

SEA-BREEZES.

LETTER No. 2 FROM BESSIE MAYNARD TO HER DOLL.

OLD ORCHARD BEACH, _July, 1880_.

The days must seem very long and lonely to you, my sweet Clytemnestra,
and I will send you another letter, to "cheer you up a bit," as nursie
used to say when she gave me a lump of sugar, after pulling my curls
'most out of my head, trying to get out the tangles.

How are you getting along all this time? and what do you find to amuse
yourself with? Do you sit still in your own corner of the baby-house day
after day, or does some kind fairy come in once in a while and wind you
up, so that you can run round the room and get a little exercise? We
will have lots of walks and talks when I get home, my Clytie. I heard
mamma telling Cousin Frank last night that we should proberly go next
month. If I did not know that you were at home expecting and wanting me,
it would be awfully hard to think of leaving this place; for life by the
sad sea waves is truly (as I heard a lady say yesterday) "fassernating
and terancing."

There are so many people here it seems like a party all the time. There
are not many children, though--at least not at _our_ hotel; only Fanny,
Dora, and me for girls; Randolph Peyton, Jack Hunter, Charley Phillips,
and Hal Davis f