Haggard and have a regular search instituted.

“But the Police are in full force at the Square and a horse is not safe in the street.”

“Never fear, he will manage with gentle Bess. He thinks we had better go back by the river. He may have been chasing his kite and—”

Ralph broke off crying, “O I shall never forgive myself if the kite has been the cause of his death.”

They hastened on making inquiries of everybody they met. They met Dr. Muelenberg as they were turning from the road to go down the bank.

“O Doctor! do you know?” gasped Mr. Cornwallis.

“Yes, yes, I just came from your house to hunt for him. I went there to celebrate his birthday and the dear little fellow was not there. We must look well to the river.”

They started down the bank.

“O the kite, the kite!” exclaimed Ralph! “See! see! over there by the pine trees! Perhaps he was tired of chasing it and has fallen asleep!”

He rushed on crying “Laurens! Laurens wake up! wake up!”

The next moment he stumbled over a strange distorted, discolored figure. When the Doctor and Mr. Cornwallis came up he stood looking at it in a dazed way.

“It can’t be Laurens! It can’t be possible he could be so changed! Tell me it can’t, Doctor,” he pleaded.

The Doctor shook his head. “Not a trace! Not a feature! It may be some other boy, but how shall we decide?”

“God only knows,” said Mr. Cornwallis turning away from the unbearable sight.

The Doctor drew nearer as he felt it his duty to do, and looked at the frightful figure more closely.

“If it’s your son, Mr. Cornwallis, perhaps you will know him by some mark. I think the back of the head has not been much burned. I see the remnant of a cap.”

He paused a moment to gather new courage. Then he raised the head and removed the bit of cap. Underneath it were Laurens’ beautiful curls!

Ralph fainted and the two men fell upon the ground, clutching each other in agony.

“Mien Gott! Mien Gott,” exclaimed Dr. Muelenberg at last. “You have one thing to be thankful for. Death was instantaneous. He was not saved to die in the awful toils of Tetanus.”

CHAPTER IV.

RISUS SARDONICUS.

Before night—yes, even before the cannon on Schwarmer Hill had ceased to boom, everybody in Killsbury knew of the terrible sorrow that had befallen the Cornwallis family. Little Laurens had been brought home dead and disfigured beyond recognition. His father and mother were wild with grief and his sister Ruth was stricken down with brain fever. Neighbors and townspeople came and saw and went away shocked and silent. It was plain to be seen that it was one of those mysterious Fourth of July accidents that will happen now and then, and few indeed were brave enough to ask just how it happened or why such accidents should be made possible. The majority of the people of Killsbury would as soon have thought of questioning the ways of Providence or the rights of the whirlwind as they would of questioning the doings of “the small boy,” or denying his right to go whithersoever he listeth on our free and glorious Independence Day.

The Reverend Dr. Normander, however, was not exactly of this stamp. He was beginning at least, to think seriously about the matter. Passing strange it seemed to him that the day which should be the most beautifully and joyously free, had become the most fearful to the best and most truly patriotic citizens of the town; and that said citizens should consent to it and encourage it as so many did. Mr. Schwarmer, at least, encouraged it most decidedly by distributing fireworks to the boys. He had been thinking of speaking to him about it for some time. Whether he had given Laurens Cornwallis the fireworks that had caused his death or not, he felt that the time had come to utter his warning against such a practice and ask him as a citizen of influence to make his gifts of a harmless nature. He called on him the next morning for that purpose.

“You have heard of little Laurens Cornwallis’s terrible death I suppose, Mr. Schwarmer?”

“Yes, I heard of it last night. It was very, very sad, most assuredly it was, Dr. Normander.”

“The mystery is where he got the fireworks, Mr. Schwarmer. He went out into the field to fly his kite. He had no fireworks and no money to buy any. His parents do not approve of putting such dangerous things into the hands of children. His mother thinks he must have been seized upon by older boys and compelled to take part in, or witness their sports. However the case may be, I have been asked so many times by friends and acquaintances if it were true that he came up here and you gave him the fireworks, that I felt it my duty to ask you personally.”

“This is my answer for one and all, Dr. Normander. He did not come here and I did not give him any firecrackers. You may set that down as gospel truth, most assuredly you may.”

“I am glad to hear it and be able to refute the rumor; still I feel that I shall not have done my whole duty without telling you that I fear your custom of distributing fireworks to the boys is having a very bad effect. I have noticed an alarming increase of Independence Day accidents since you inaugurated the custom. Yesterday was the worst of all. I was told that the Public Square was a more dangerous place than if it had been invaded by a foreign enemy—that the boys really took possession of it and fired at everybody who attempted to enter.”

Mr. Schwarmer laughed. “Well that’s no fault of mine, Dr. Normander. Any sensible man knows that there isn’t enough powder in one of my little packages to hurt any child. He couldn’t more than scorch his fingers were he to let them all off at once—rest assured he couldn’t. He couldn’t more than learn ‘The burnt child dreads the fire’ adage, which every child has got to learn sooner or later.”

“But if a large number of boys should club together and every one had a box, Mr. Schwarmer? What then?”

“O that would be another affair, Dr. Normander. The parents and the police should regulate a thing of that kind—most assuredly they should—the parents primarily.”

“But parents can’t always stand on guard, Mr. Schwarmer.”

“I thought that was what parents were for—to guard their own children, Dr. Normander. If I should attempt to guard other people’s children I should expect to be told that my services were not wanted, most assuredly I should; and if I give a boy a box of firecrackers to honor his country with, I consider it’s his parents’ business to see that he makes the right use of it, just as it would be their business to see that he made the right use of a Sunday School book that you might give him to honor his God with! No knowing but he would take a notion to set a match to the one thing or the other, or the whole thing, if left to himself long enough—in which case he would be apt to burn his fingers and perhaps burn himself up and the whole house too; but neither you nor I would be to blame, I take it,” laughed Schwarmer.

Dr. Normander was amazed at such levity and reasoning or lack of reason; but he replied with becoming patience: “Not for what we could not foresee or avoid, Mr. Schwarmer. Every mature individual knows that all kinds of explosives are more or less dangerous. There is a lurking devil in them that it will not do to play with. They should not be used