THE SUCCESS OF BATTERSLEIGH One morning when Franklin entered his office he found his friend Battersleigh there before him, in full possession, and apparently at peace with all the world.

His tall figure was reclining in an office chair, and his feet were supported by the corner of the table, in an attitude which is called American, but which is really only masculine, and quite rational though unbeautiful.

Battersleigh's cloak had a swagger in its very back, and his hat sat at a cocky angle not to be denied.

He did not hear Franklin as he approached the door, and the latter stood looking in for a moment, amused at Battersleigh and his attitude and his song.

When quite happy Battersleigh always sang, and very often his song was the one he was singing now, done in a low nasal, each verse ending, after the vocal fashion of his race, with a sudden uplift of a sheer octave, as thus: "I-I-I-'d dance li-i-i-ke a fa-a-a-iree-ee-ee, For to see ould Dunlear-e-e-_e-e-e_! I-I-I-'d think twi-i-i-ice e-e-e-r-r I-I-I-'d lave it, For to be-e-e-e-e a drag-_o-o-n_." Franklin chuckled at the reminiscent music as he stepped in and said good morning.