d Johnny, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Yes, that is all," answered Arthur, "it comes as near to being a
cannibal story, as any thing I know. I did not see any one actually
roasted and eaten, but if the savages had caught us, I suspect there
would have been more to tell, and probably no one here to tell it."

"But," persisted Johnny, "the story don't end there. You haven't told
us about the rest of the voyage, and whether Rokoa found his brother at
last."

"O, that don't properly belong to _this_ story. According to all
artistical rules I ought to end precisely where I have, in order to
preserve the unities. But some other time, if you wish, I will tell you
all about it."

"Pray don't talk of artistical rules," exclaimed Max, "after showing
yourself such an egregious bungler! You had there all the elements of a
capital story, and you have just spoiled them."

"`How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge,'" cried
Browne, "`come now, unmuzzle your wisdom,' and specify the blunders of
which he has been guilty. I say, with Touchstone, `instance briefly,
shepherd; come, instance.'"

"Why, in the first place, there was a miserly spirit of economy in
regard to his men. He should have invested the narrative with a tragic
interest, by killing Rokoa and Barton, at least;--being the narrator he
couldn't kill himself conveniently;--but he might, with good effect have
been `dangerously wounded.'"

"But suppose," said Arthur, "that I wanted Rokoa to figure in a future
story, and so couldn't afford to kill him just yet?"

"A miserable apology! it evinces a lamentable poverty of imagination to
make one character serve for two distinct tales."

"Well, a further instance, `gentle shepherd,'" cried Browne, "`a more
sounder instance.'"

"Then, again," resumed Max, with an oracular air, "it was a capital
error to make Olla a married woman; what business I should like to know,
can a married woman have in a story?--She belongs properly to the dull
prosaic region of common life--not to the fairy land of romance. Now
the charm of sentiment is as necessary to a perfect tale, as the
interest of adventure, or the excitement of conflict, and had Olla been
single, there would have been the elements of something beautifully
sentimental."

"Enough!" cried Browne, "if you have not `lamed me with reasons,' you
have at least overwhelmed me with words--there now! I believe I am
unconsciously catching the trick of you