the mainland. Mrs. Hicks' eyes grew bigger and rounder as she listened;
but she had listened a very short while before she cried--

"Father must hear this! He's up polishin' the lantern, sir. Begging
your pardon, but he must hear you tell it; he must indeed." With
immense pride she added, "He was over to France, one time."

She marched us off to the lantern, up the winding stairway, up the
ladder, and into the great glass cage, where stood an old man busily
polishing the brass reflector.

"Father, here's a gentleman come, with news from France!"

As the old man came forward with a fumbling step, my father drew a thick
bundle from his coat pocket. "I've brought you some newspapers," said
he; "they will tell you more than I can."

He held them out, but the wife interposed hurriedly. "Not to him, sir.
Give them to Reuben, if you please, and thank you. But he, sir--he's
blind."

I looked, as my father looked. A film covered both pupils of the old
man's eyes.

"He've been blind these seven years," Reuben explained in a low voice.
"Me and Sam are the regular keepers now; but the Board lets him live on
here, and he's terrible clever at polishing."

"He knows the lamp so well as ever he did," broke in the old woman;
"the leastest little scratch, he don't miss it. How he doesn' break his