atmospheric condition was prevailing. There seemed to be a large
hole or pocket in the air, and in spite of his best efforts the
pilot was unable to get on even wing. Finally, fearing to lapse
into a tail spin, he planed down to make a landing. Beneath them
was a beautiful green lawn surrounded by groves of trees. In the
middle of this lawn they struck gently, taxied across the smooth
turf, and came to a stop beneath a splendid oak. Quimbleton
assisted his wife to get out, and they sat down for a few minutes'
rest under the tree.

"What a heavenly spot!" cried Theodolinda, "I wonder where we
are?"

"Somewhere in New Jersey," said her husband. "I don't understand
what was the matter with the air. It didn't act according to
Hoyle."

They gazed about them in some surprise at the opulent beauty of
the scene. It seemed to be a kind of park, laid out in lawns,
gardens and shrubbery, with groves of old trees here and there. A
little artificial lake twinkled in a hollow.

They happened to be gazing upward when a small round ball of tawny
color fell from the tree. It was a robin. Folded solidly for
sleep, he fell unresisting by the flutter of a wing, turning over
and over gently until he struck the turf with the tiniest of soft
thuds. He bounced slightly, rolled a little distance, and settled
motionless in the grass.

Quimbleton, amazed, stooped over the fallen bird, supposing it to