ttest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did
so. Howe'er it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of
superior skill."

"I will do my best, no man can do more."

So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked
with attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought
was no longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former
shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude
awaited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their
opinion of his skill; his arrow split the willow rod against which it
was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in
admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his
person. "These twenty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou
hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt
take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body guard, and be
near to our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so
true an eye direct a shaft."

"Pardon me, noble Prince," said Locksley, "but I have vowed, that if
ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother, King Richard.
These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave
a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the
trial, he would have hit the wand as well as I."

Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the
stranger; and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed
with the crowd, and was seen no more.

A Plea for the Old Year[F]

BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.

I see the smiling New Year climb the heights--
The clouds, his heralds, turn the sky to rose,
And flush the whiteness of the winter snows,
Till Earth is glad with Life and Life's delight.
The weary Old Year died when died the night,
And this newcomer, proud with triumph, shows
His radiant face, and each glad subject knows
The welcome monarch, born to rule aright.

Yet there are graves far off that no man tends,
Where lie the vanished loves and hopes and fears,
The dreams that grew to be our hearts' best friends,
The smiles, and, dearer than the smiles, the tears--
These were that Old Year's gifts, whom none defends,
Now his strong Conqueror, the New, appears.

[F] Copyright, 1899, by Little, Brown & Co. (Reprinted by permission.)

Fagin's Last Day