Is there no way to stop them ?" One of the missionary fraternity was sitting quietly among the trees.

It was an August morning.

The air was a living splendor, clear and warm, with now and then a breeze that rippled the leaves like the waves of the sea.
He looked up from his book, and considered the question half-seriously, half-humorously.
"I know how we used to prevent boys from stealing melons in the East," said he.
"How ?" "Put some tartar emetic in the biggest one.

In the morning it would be gone, but the boys would never come after any more melons." The young farmer understood the remedy, and laughed.
"And," added he, "the boys didn't have much to say about melons after they had eaten _that_ one.

The subject no longer interested them.