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you might incautiously give the show away. You had a good passage?"

"Excellent," replied von Ruhle. "I am getting well-known to the strafed English custom-house officers at Queenboro' and Harwich. They recognize me by my stick, I believe, but they little know that it is a new one every time. What do you think of this? I have brought it as a specimen for you to see. Just fancy! every time I cross to Holland twenty kilogrammes of good copper are on their way to the Fatherland. By this time Herr Stabb of Essen is well acquainted with my Malacca canes."

"A good weight to carry about," remarked Ramblethorne, wielding the disguised bar of copper. "I wonder you troubled."

"Mein Gott! I could not leave it," declared von Ruhle. "Someone might take a fancy to it, and then the secret would be out. But tell me: have you succeeded in getting that commission you spoke of?"

"I am still living in hopes," replied Ramblethorne. "Of course I could have obtained a post of temporary surgeon in the Brit

t of the French nobility whose family had ridden the tumbrils of the Revolution, tended her fragile body and spirit with the same loving care given rare, brief-blooming flowers. You may imagine from this his attitude concerning marriage. He lived in terror of the vulgar, heavy-handed man who would one day win my mother's heart, and at last, this persistent dread killed him. His concern was unnecessary, however, for my mother chose a suitor who was as free of mundane brutality as a husband could be. Her choice was Dauphin, a remarkable white cat which strayed onto the estate shortly after his death.

Dauphin was an unusually large Angora, and his ability to speak in cultured French, English, and Italian was sufficient to cause my mother to adopt him as a household pet. It did not take long for her to realize that Dauphin deserved a higher status, and he became her friend, protector, and confidante. He never spoke of his origin, nor where he had acquired the classical education which made him such an entertaining companion. After two years, it was eas

CHAPTER II

THE SUBJECT

The subject of an argument must always be a complete statement. The reason for this requirement lies in the fact that an argument can occur only when men have conflicting opinions about a certain thought, and try to prove the truth or falsity of this definite idea. Since a term--a word, phrase, or other combination of words not a complete sentence--suggests many ideas, but never stands for one particular idea, it is absurd as a subject to be argued. A debatable subject is always a proposition, a statement in which something is affirmed or denied. It would be impossible to uphold or attack the mere term, "government railroad supervision," for this expression carries with it no specific thought. It may suggest that government railroad supervision has been inadequate in the past; or that government supervision is at present unnecessary; or that the government is about to assume stricter supervision. The term affords no common ground on

riends, or anywhere else.

But that is not the question now. It is conspired against; and wehave given a few proofs of the conspiracy, as they shine out ofvarious classes engaged in it. An indictment against the wholemanufacturing interest need not be longer, surely, than theindictment in the case of the Crown against O'Connell and others.Mr. Cobden may be taken as its representative--as indeed he is, byone consent already. There may be no evidence; but that is notrequired. A judge and jury are all that is needed. And theGovernment know where to find them, or they gain experience tolittle purpose.

THREATENING LETTERTO THOMAS HOODFROM AN ANCIENT GENTLEMANMR. HOOD. SIR,--The Constitution is going at last! You needn'tlaugh, Mr. Hood. I am aware that it has been going, two or threetimes before; perhaps four times; but it is on the move now, sir,and no mistake.

I beg to say, that I use those last expressions advisedly, sir, andnot in the sense in which they are now used by Ja

tted; Bunyan's own title--'The Holy War made by Shaddai upon Diabolus for the regaining of the Metropolis of the World'--is altered to the feebler and more commonplace form--'The Holy War made by Christ upon the Devil for the Regaining of Man'; and, further, when a new edition was issued in 1696, the alterations and omissions of 168 4 were ignored, and a simple reprint made of the first edition of 1682.

J. B. {1c} 9 October, 1905.

THE AUTHOR TO THE READER

Courteous Reader,

I was considering with my self, what I had written concerning the Progress of the Pilgrim from this World to Glory; and how it had been acceptable to many in this Nation: It came again into my mind to write, as then, of him that was going to Heaven, so now, of the Life and Death of the Ungodly, and of their travel from this world to Hell. The which in this I have done, and have put it, as thou seest, under the Name and Title of Mr. Badman, a Name very proper for such a Subject: I have also put it into t

on ennemi malheureux.

«Et moi aussi, dit-il, d'un ton de bonne humeur, on m'a mis en demi-solde; mais... avec votre demi-solde vous n'avez pas de quoi vous acheter du tabac. Tenez, caporal.»

Et il essaya de faire entrer la pièce d'or dans la main fermée que le jeune homme appuyait sur le rebord de la yole.

Le jeune Corse rougit, se redressa, se mordit les lèvres, et paraissait disposé à répondre avec emportement, quand tout à coup, changeant d'expression, il éclata de rire. Le colonel, sa pièce à la main, demeurait tout ébahi.

«Colonel, dit le jeune homme reprenant son sérieux, permettez-moi de vous donner deux avis: le premier, c'est de ne jamais offrir de l'argent à un Corse, car il y a de mes compatriotes assez impolis pour vous le jeter à la tête; le second, c'est de ne pas donner aux gens des titres qu'ils ne réclament point. Vous m'appelez caporal e

e than any other of the owner's treasures. It was, curiously enough, to this little heap of literature that Wid Gardner presently turned.

Forgetful of the hour and of his waiting cows, he sat down, a copy in his hands, his face taking on a new sort of light as he read. At times, as lone men will, he broke out into audible soliloquy. Now and again his hand slapped his knee, his eye kindled, he grinned. The pages were ill-printed, showing many paragraphs, apparently of advertising nature, in fine type, sometimes marked with display lines.

Wid turned page after page, grunting as he did so, until at last he tossed the magazine upon the top of the box and so went about his evening chores. Thus the title of the publication was left showing to any observer. The headline was done in large black letters, advising all who might have read that this was a copy of the magazine known as Hearts Aflame.

Curiously enough, on the front page the headline of a certain advertisement showed plainly. I

cratching his back with it. When Philip did a doubletake, however, the ear was back to normal size and reposing on its owner's tawny cheek. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he said, "Come on, Zarathustra, we're going for a walk."

He headed for the back door, Zarathustra at his heels. A double door leading off the dining room barred his way and proved to be locked. Frowning, he returned to the living room. "All right," he said to Zarathustra, "we'll go out the front way then."

[Illustration]

He walked around the side of the house, his canine companion trotting beside him. The side yard turned out to be disappointing. It contained no roses--green ones, or any other kind. About all it did contain that was worthy of notice was a dog house--an ancient affair that was much too large for Zarathustra and which probably dated from the days when Judith had owned a larger dog. The yard itself was a mess: the grass hadn't been cut all summer, the shrubbery was ragged, and dead leaves lay everywhere

e minutes.

But there had been a clever, good-natured littleFrench teacher who had said to the music-master:

"Zat leetle Crewe. Vat a child! A so ogly beauty!Ze so large eyes! ze so little spirituelle face.Waid till she grow up. You shall see!"

This morning, however, in the tight, smallblack frock, she looked thinner and odder thanever, and her eyes were fixed on Miss Minchinwith a queer steadiness as she slowly advancedinto the parlor, clutching her doll.

"Put your doll down!" said Miss Minchin.

"No," said the child, I won't put her down;I want her with me. She is all I have. She hasstayed with me all the time since my papa died."

She had never been an obedient child. She hadhad her own way ever since she was born, and therewas about her an air of silent determination underwhich Miss Minchin had always felt secretly uncomfortable.And that lady felt even now that perhaps it would beas well not to insist on her point. So she lookedat her as severely as possible.

"Yo

THE LAPIS NIGER.Roma Beata. Maud Howe. Pp. 163, 260.

POMPEY'S THEATER._Rome: The Eternal City_. Clara Erskine Clement. Vol. i, P. 374.Ancient Rome in the Light of Recent Discoveries. RodolfoLanciani. P. 190.

THE ROMAN FORUM AS IT APPEARS TO-DAY.Roman Holidays and Others. W.D. Howells. P. 96.

POEM.--In the Roman ForumAmelia Josephine Burr. Literary Digest. Vol. xlviii, p. 1130.

THE ROMAN HOUSE

"Here is my religion, here is my race, here are the traces of myforefathers. I cannot express the charm which I find here, and whichpenetrates my heart and my senses."--Cicero: Pro Domo.

THE PLAN OF THE ROMAN HOUSE.Callus. W.A. Becker. P. 237.The Life of the Greeks and Romans. Guhl and Koner. P. 357.The Private Life of the Romans. H.W. Johnston. Chap. vi.Society in Rome under the Caesars. William R. Inge. Chap. x.

THE HEATING AND LIGHTING OF THE HOUSE.The Life