very hungry. Fortunately, Bonifaccio had given him some bread, so he refreshed himself with this, and a little spring water, and set off in the direction of his home. At last the dear home roof came in sight, and Pippo, shouting in his joy, was answered by the bark of a dog, that came rushing toward him. Nina followed soon, with sparkling eyes, and after her came the father and mother, scarcely able to contain their joy. Pippo was embraced by all three at once, and even the little dog appeared to share in the delight, for he kept jumping up and frantically trying to lick his hands. "Let him have some breakfast, poor child," said the mother, "and after that, he can tell us all his adventures." "Here, Nina, is your little cross-the captain sent it back to you; and Father, look here!" cried Pippo, eagerly, showing his box. After his breakfast, he related all his doings in the robbers' cave, and the means of his deliverance. He ended, coaxingly: "And now, Padre mio, I may go to study in Florence, may I not?-and become a painter like Giotto. You will see what pictures I shall make; do, please, let me go." "Well, Pippo, my boy, I shall see. I am afraid you are not worth much to guard the sheep, so I shall talk to Padre Stefano, and see if I can afford it. Meanwhile, paint a portrait of Nina, that I may take with me to some painter and ask his opinion of it." Pippo set to work, and, inspired by the hope of gaining the long-wished consent, produced a likeness, which the Florentine artist looked at with great interest, finally declaring that it showed much talent, and expressing astonishment on hearing the youth of the painter. "Send him to me, my friend," said he to Pippo's father; "you have there a genius. I shall be delighted to guide his efforts, for I am sure he will hereafter do me honor." And these words came true, for this little boy was no other than Filippo Lippi, one of the great painters of Italy. And his pictures, now more than four hundred years old, are of priceless worth. Travelers from all parts of the world go to see them. Most of them are collected and exhibited in Florence, his native town, where he was employed for many years by a great Duke of that time. THE BOTTOMLESS BLACK POND. ABOUT half a mile from the town of Danford, there was an extensive and beautiful piece of forest land. Many of the trees were large and picturesque, the ground beneath them was generally free from unpleasant undergrowth and bushes, and, in some places, it was covered with moss and delicately colored wild-flowers; there were green open glades, where the bright sunshine played fantastic tricks with the shadows of the surrounding trees, and, altogether, the Danford forest was a delightful place, and any visitor, of ordinary reasoning powers, would have supposed it to be a favorite resort of the towns-people. But it was not; very few persons, excepting now and then some boys of a disobedient turn of mind, ever visited it. The reason for this was the fact, that near the center of the woods there lay a large pond, which had a bad reputation. This pond was so large, that in some parts of the country, where such bodies of water are not common, it would have been called a lake. In ordinary cases, the presence of such a sheet of water would have greatly added to the attractions of the place, but this pond exercised an influence which overbalanced all the attractive beauties of the woods, and made it a lonely and deserted spot. The reason of this was the peculiar reputation of the Black Pond. A great many strange things were said about it. Its color was enough to mystify some people, and terrify others, for it was as black as ink. Persons who had stood upon its edge and had looked down upon it, and over its wide expanse, were unable to see an inch below the surface of the water, which, instead of being in the least transparent, appeared, when there was no wind, like one of those dark-colored mirrors called "Claude Lorraine glasses," in which a whole landscape is reflected like a little living picture, with all its proportions, its perspective, and its colors, perfectly preserved. It might have been supposed that this lake would have presented an attractive picture, on bright days, when the sky, the clouds, and the overhanging foliage were reflected in its smooth and polished surface; but water which is as black as ink is not the kind of water that people generally like to look at. There are ordinary ponds and lakes and rivers, in which the sky, clouds, and trees are reflected, in a way that is good enough for anybody. But although it was, in color, such a blot upon the beauty of the Danford woods, the blackness of this pond was not the greatest objection to it. The most dreadful thing about it was that it had no bottom! There is something truly terrifying in the idea of a body of water that is bottomless. There are persons who would feel much safer in sailing over those portions of the ocean which have been proved to be five or six miles deep, than over the vast expanses of rolling billows, where bottom has never been found. And it was well known that bottom had never been found in the Black Pond. Sons had heard this from their fathers, and fathers from their fathers, for Danford was an old town, and the Black Pond had always been the same, as far back as the local history and traditions went. For a long time no attempts at sounding, or examining, in any way, the waters of the pond had been made. Any undertaking of the kind would have been too dangerous. There was no boat on the pond, and it was not easy to carry one there, and if persons wished to go out in the middle of the pond to make soundings, a raft would have to be built, and the consequences to any one falling off this would be too terrible to contemplate. Even the best swimmer would fear to find himself in water where he would probably become cramped and sink, and be sucked down, and down, and down, nobody knows where. In winter, when the pond was frozen over, and so might have offered a temptation to the skating boys of the town,-for there are boys who think that any kind of water is safe, if it is covered with ice, the parents and guardians of Danford so sternly forbade any venturing on the surface of that dangerous pond, that no owner of skates ever dared to try them on the dark ice which covered a still darker mystery beneath. In fact, those boys who had ever ventured to the edge of the pond, in winter or summer, had generally been fellows, as has been intimated before, who had been told never to go near it. And so it happened that the presence of this dismal piece of water made people unwilling that their children should go into the woods, for fear that they might wander to the pond. And, as they did not wish to do themselves what they had forbidden to their children, they took their own rural walks in other directions, and the woods, thus getting a bad name throughout that country, gradually became quite lonely and deserted. At the time of our story, there lived in the town of Danford, a man named Curtis Blake, who was well known on account of a peculiar personal characteristic. He had no arms. He had been a soldier, and had lost them both in battle. Curtis was a strong, well-made man, and as he had a very good pair of legs left to him after the misfortunes of war, he used them in going errands and in doing anything by which walking could be made useful and profitable. But, as there was not much employment of this kind to be had, he frequently found himself with a great deal of time— not on his hands exactly-but which he could not advantageously employ. Consequently he used to ramble about a good deal in a purposeless sort of way, and, one summer afternoon, he rambled into the Danford woods. He found it very cool and pleasant here, and he could not help thinking what a pity it was that the towns-people could not make a resort of these woods, which were so convenient to the town and so delightful, in every way. But, of course, he knew that it would never do for families, or for any one, in fact, to frequent the vicinity of such a dangerous piece of water as the Black Pond. And, thinking of the Black Pond, he walked on until he came to it and stood upon its edge, gazing thoughtfully out upon its smooth and somber surface. "If I had arms," said Curtis to himself, "I'd go to work and find out just how deep this pond is. I'd have a boat carted over from Stevens' Inletit's only four or five miles-and I'd row out into the middle of the pond with all the clothes-line I could buy or borrow in the town, and I'd let down a good heavy lead, that would n't be pulled about by currents. I'd fasten on line after line, and I think there would certainly be enough rope in the whole town to reach to the bottom. But, having no arms, I could n't lower a line even if I had a boat. So I can't do it, and I'm not going to advise any other folks to try it, for ten to one they'd get excited and tumble overboard, and there would be an end of them, and I'd get the blame of it. But I'd like to know, anyway, how soon the bottom begins to shelve down steep. If we knew that, we could tell if there 'd be any danger to a little codger, who might tumble in from the shore. And if it does shelve sudden, the town ought to put up a high fence all around it. I've a mind to try how deep it is, near shore." If Curtis had been like other men, he would have cut a long pole, and tried the depth of the pond, a short distance from land. But he could not do that, and there was only one way in which he could carry out his plan, and that he determined to try. He would carefully wade in, and feel with his feet for the place where the bottom began to shelve down. This was a rash and bold proceeding, but Curtis was a bold fellow and not very prudent, and he had become very much interested in finding out something about the bottom of this pond. It was not often, now, that he had anything to interest him. He wore high boots, in which he had often waded, and his clothes were thin linen, of not very good quality, so that if they became blackened by the water, it would not much matter. As for taking cold, when he came out, Curtis never thought of that. He was a tough fellow, and could soon dry himself in the sun. Having made up his mind, he did not further delay, but stepped cautiously into the water. Even near the shore, he could not see the bottom, and he moved very slowly out, feeling his way carefully with one foot before he made a step. He did not expect that the bottom would begin to descend rapidly, very near the shore, but as he got out, ten or fifteen feet from land, and found the water was considerably above his knees, he began to take still greater precautions. He advanced sidewise, standing on one foot and stretching the other one out, as far as he could, to make sure that he was not on the edge of an unseen precipice. In this way he went slowly on and on, the water getting deeper and deeper, until it was up to his waist. He now felt a slight rise in the bottom before him. This made him very cautious, for he knew that where there was a great opening down into the bowels of the earth, there was, almost always, a low mound thrown up around it, and this mound he had probably reached. It sloped up very gently on the side where he was, but on the other side it might go down, almost perpendicularly. So no man ever moved more slowly through the water than did Curtis now. A few inches at a time, still feeling before him with one foot, he went cautiously on. He was very much excited, and even a little afraid that he might unaware reach the edge of the precipice, or that the ground might suddenly crumble beneath him. He had not intended to venture in so far. But he did not turn back. must go a little farther. He had almost reached the edge of the great mystery of the Black Pond! He But he had not reached it yet. The ground on which he stood still rose, although by slow degrees, so that he was really higher out of water than he had been, ten minutes before. Suddenly, he looked up from the water, down on which he had been gazing as if he had expected to see some deeper blackness beneath its black surface, and glanced in front of him. Then he turned and looked behind him. Then he stood still, and gave a great shout. The shout echoed from the surrounding woods; the birds and the insects, and the rabbits, which flew, and hummed, and jumped about so freely in those solitudes, must have been amazed! Such a shout had not been heard near the Black Pond in the memory of any living thing. It was repeated again and again, and it was a shout of laughter! No wonder Curtis laughed. He was a good deal more than half way across the pond! He had walked right over the place where that mysterious depth was supposed to be, and the water had not reached his shoulders. The gradual rise in the bottom, which he supposed to be a mound, was the rise toward the opposite shore ! When Curtis Blake had finished laughing, he pushed through the water as fast as he could go,— he almost ran, and in a very few minutes he stood on the bank, at the other side of the pond. He turned and looked back over the water. He had crossed over the very middle of the pond! Then he laughed and laughed again, forgetting his wet clothes, forgetting everything but the fact that he, without ropes or leads or boat or raft, or even arms, had found the bottom of this dreaded piece of water, that he had actually put his foot upon the great mystery of the Black Pond! When his merriment and delight began to quiet down a little, he waded into the water again, at a different point from that where he came out, and crossed the pond in another direction, this time walking freely, and as rapidly as he could go. Then he ran in again, and walked about, near the middle. In no place was it much above his waist. When Curtis was fully convinced that this was the case, and that he had walked pretty nearly all over the bottom of Black Pond,—at least, that part of the bottom where the water was the deepest,— he came out and went back to the town. Curtis met no one as he hurried along the road from the woods, but as soon as he reached the town he went into a large store, where he was well acquainted. There were a good many people there, waiting for the afternoon mail, for, at one end of the store was the post-office. "Why, Curtis Blake!" exclaimed a man, as he entered. "You look as if you had been half drowned." "I ought to look that way," said Curtis, "for I've been to the bottom of the Black Pond." No one made any response to this astounding assertion. The people just stood, and looked at one another. Then Mr. Faulkner, the owner of correct. This made the people laugh, but Curtis still persisted that what he had told them was entirely Not a soul, however, believed him, and everybody began to try to prove to him, or to the rest, that what he had said could not possibly be true, and that it was all stuff and nonsense. There was so much interest in the discussion, that no one thought of going to see if any letters had come for him. There could be no more exciting news in any letter or newspaper than that a man avowed he had gone to the bottom of Black Pond. "Well," said Curtis, at last, "these clothes are getting to feel unpleasant, now that I'm out of the sun, and I don't want to stay here any longer to talk about this thing. But I'll tell you all, and you can tell anybody you choose, that to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock, I 'm going again to the bottom of Black Pond, and any one who has a mind to, can come and see me do it." And, with these words, he walked off. There was a great deal of talk that evening in Danford about Curtis Blake's strange statement, and about what he had said he would do the next day. Most persons thought that he intended some hoax or practical joke; for a man without arms, and who, therefore, could not swim, could not go to the bottom of an ordinary river and expect to come back again alive. Of course, anybody could go to the bottom and stay there. There was certainly some trick about it. Curtis was known to be fond of a joke. But whatever people thought on the subject, and there were a good many different opinions, every man and boy, who could manage to do it, made up his mind to go, the next day, at nine o'clock, and see what Curtis Blake intended to do at Black Pond. Even if it should turn out to be all a hoax, this would be a good opportunity to visit the famous pond, for, with so many people about, there could not be much danger. Quite a crowd of interested towns-folk assembled on the shore of the Black Pond, the next day, and Curtis did not disappoint them. About nine o'clock he walked in among them, wearing the same boots and clothes which he had worn the day before, and then, after looking around, as if to see that everybody was paying attention, he deliberately waded into the pond. At this, everybody held his breath, but, in a moment, there arose calls to him to come back, and not make a fool of himself. He had no board, no life-preserver, nor anything with which he could save himself, when he should begin to sink. But fearful as the people were for his safety, not one dared to run in and pull him back. On he went, as he had gone before, only walking a good deal faster this time, and the people now stood still, without speaking a word or making a sound. Every minute they expected to see Curtis disappear from their sight forever. The birds, the insects, and the rabbits might have supposed that there was no one about, had it not been for the that Curtis had built a bridge under water, and that he had walked on it! As if a man, without arms, could build a bridge, and walk on it, without seeing it! Curtis, however, soon put an end to all conjectures and doubts by walking over the bottom of the pond, from one side to the other, in various directions, and by wandering about in the middle in such a way as to prove to every one that there was no mystery at all about the Black Pond, and that it was nothing but a wide and nearly circular piece of water, with a good hard bottom, and was not four feet deep in any part. swashing of the man who was pushing through the water. As Curtis approached the middle of the pond, the excitement became intense, and some men turned pale; but when he hurried on, and was seen to get into shallower water, people began to breathe more freely, and when he ran out on the opposite bank there went up a great cheer. Now all was hubbub and confusion. Most people saw how the matter really was, but some persons could not comprehend, at once, that their long-cherished idea that the Black Pond had no bottom, was all a myth, and there were incredulous fellows, who were bound to have a reason for their own way of thinking, and who asserted The news of this discovery by Curtis Blake made a great sensation in Danford. Some people felt a little ashamed, for they had taken a good deal of pride in telling their friends, when they went visiting, about the wonderful pond, near their town, which had no bottom; but, on the whole, the towns-people were very glad of the discovery, for now they could freely enjoy the woods, and many persons were astonished to find what a delightful place it was for picnics and afternoon rambles. As if no portion of mystery should remain about the Black Pond, even the color of its water was investigated and explained. Some scientific gentlemen from a city not far away, who came to Danford about this time, and who heard the story of the |