Bertie has taken much pleasure in hearing me read about the different ways in which the little "Nursery" people amuse themselves. He is very anxious that they should, in return, know about the steamboat which his uncle brought him from the Centennial,—a real little steamboat.

It is nearly a foot long, made of brass, with a "truly" boiler, as Bertie says, and a little alcohol lamp to convert the water in the boiler into steam.

The older folks were as much interested in its trial trip as Bertie. The biggest tub was brought up, and half filled with water. The little boiler was also filled, and the lamp lighted; and we all waited patiently for the steam to start the little wheel. A stick was put across the tub, and a string fastened from its centre to the end of the steamer, to keep it from running against the side of the tub. The rudder was turned to guide the boat in a circle, and soon the steamer started.

But it did not run easily. Could it be that it would prove a failure? Bertie's face began to put on a disappointed look.

"Can't Uncle Nelson fix it?" said he. "Uncle Nelson can do most any thing."

So Uncle Nelson took the delicate machinery apart, and found some particles of dirt, which prevented the piston from working smoothly. Then he cleaned and oiled it, put it together again, and once more it started. This time it was a complete success. How Bertie clapped his hands, as the steam hissed, and the boat went round and round, as if it were alive!

It was half an hour before the water in the little boiler gave out.