o her and kissedher and asked, "How knewest thou that I should come to thee thisvery night?" She answered, "I knew it not! By Allah, this wholeyear past I have not tasted the taste of sleep, but have watchedthrough every night, expecting thee; and such hath been my casesince the day thou wentest out from me and I gave thee the newsuit of clothes, and thou promisedst me to go to the Hammam andto come back! So I sat awaiting thee that night and a secondnight and a third night; but thou camest not till after so greatdelay, and I ever expecting thy coming; for this is lovers' way.And now I would have thee tell me what hath been the cause ofthine absence from me the past year long?" So I told her. Andwhen she knew that I was married, her colour waxed yellow, and Iadded, "I have come to thee this night but I must leave theebefore day." Quoth she, "Doth it not suffice her that she trickedthee into marrying her and kept thee prisoner with her a wholeyear, but she must also make thee swear by the o

ely to befighting and much trouble as the result.'"

"Is that all the Book says?" asked Ozma.

"Every word," said Dorothy, and Ozma and Glinda bothlooked at the Record and seemed surprised andperplexed.

"Tell me, Glinda," said Ozma, "who are theFlatheads?"

"I cannot, your Majesty," confessed the Sorceress."Until now I never have heard of them, nor have I everheard the Skeezers mentioned. In the faraway corners ofOz are hidden many curious tribes of people, and thosewho never leave their own countries and never arevisited by those from our favored part of Oz, naturallyare unknown to me. However, if you so desire, I canlearn through my arts of sorcery something of theSkeezers and the Flatheads."

"I wish you would," answered Ozma seriously. "Yousee, Glinda, if these are Oz people they are mysubjects and I cannot allow any wars or troubles in theLand I rule, if I can possibly help it."

"Very well, your Majesty," said the Sorceress, "Iwill try to get some information to guide you. P

could be those voices? What human hands could have levelled that road and marshalled those lamps?

"The superstitious belief, common to miners, that gnomes or fiends dwell within the bowels of the earth, began to seize me. I shuddered at the thought of descending further and braving the inhabitants of this nether valley. Nor indeed could I have done so without ropes, as from the spot I had reached to the bottom of the chasm the sides of the rock sank down abrupt, smooth, and sheer. I retraced my steps with some difficulty. Now I have told you all."

"You will descend again?"

"I ought, yet I feel as if I durst not."

"A trusty companion halves the journey and doubles the courage. 8I will go with you. We will provide ourselves with ropes of suitable length and strength- and- pardon me- you must not drink more to-night. our hands and feet must be steady and firm tomorrow."

Chapter II.

With the morning my friend'

in charge to thee? 70

Dro. E. To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me.

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge.

Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner: 75 My mistress and her sister stays for you.

Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me, In what safe place you have bestow'd my money; Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undisposed: 80 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders; But not a thousand marks between you both. If I should pay your worship those again, 85 Perchance you will not bear them patiently.

Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks? what mistress, slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; She that doth

d the ray, and that the crystal none the less remained luminous. Greatly astonished, he lifted it out of the light ray and carried it to the darkest part of the shop. It remained bright for some four or five minutes, when it slowly faded and went out. He placed it in the thin streak of daylight, and its luminousness was almost immediately restored.

So far, at least, Mr. Wace was able to verify the remarkable story of Mr. Cave. He has himself repeatedly held this crystal in a ray of light (which had to be of a less diameter than one millimetre). And in a perfect darkness, such as could be produced by velvet wrapping, the crystal did undoubtedly appear very faintly phosphorescent. It would seem, however, that the luminousness was of some exceptional sort, and not equally visible to all eyes; for Mr. Harbinger--whose name will be familiar to the scientific reader in connection with the Pasteur Institute--was quite unable to see any light whatever. And Mr. Wace's own capacity for its appreciation was out o

sh, and seasoned with a little pepper or salt, will be very good boiled on the fourth day, especially in winter.

I have reckoned upon a medium, that a child just born will weigh 12 pounds, and in a solar year, if tolerably nursed, encreaseth to 28 pounds.

I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore very proper for landlords, who, as they have already devoured most of the parents, seem to have the best title to the children.

Infant's flesh will be in season throughout the year, but more plentiful in March, and a little before and after; for we are told by a grave author, an eminent French physician, that fish being a prolifick dyet, there are more children born in Roman Catholick countries about nine months after Lent, the markets will be more glutted than usual, because the number of Popish infants, is at least three to one in this kingdom, and therefore it will have one other collateral advantage, by lessening the number of Papists among us.

I have already computed the

emselves into pink flakes modulated with tints of unspeakable softness; and the air had so much life and sweetness, that it was a pain to come within doors. What was it that nature would say? Was there no meaning in the live repose of the valley behind the mill, and which Homer or Shakspeare could not reform for me in words? The leafless trees become spires of flame in the sunset, with the blue east for their back-ground, and the stars of the dead calices of flowers, and every withered stem and stubble rimed with frost, contribute something to the mute music.

The inhabitants of cities suppose that the country landscape is pleasant only half the year. I please myself with the graces of the winter scenery, and believe that we are as much touched by it as by the genial influences of summer. To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again. The heavens change every mome

h all fringed with ferns and creepers. They passed through the arch into a deep, narrow gully whose banks were of stones, moss-covered; and in the crannies grew more ferns and long grasses. Trees growing on the top of the bank arched across, and the sunlight came through in changing patches of brightness, turning the gully to a roofed corridor of goldy-green. The path, which was of greeny-grey flagstones where heaps of leaves had drifted, sloped steeply down, and at the end of it was another round arch, quite dark inside, above which rose rocks and grass and bushes.

"It's like the outside of a railway tunnel," said James.

"It's the entrance to the enchanted castle," said Kathleen. "Let's blow the horns."

"Dry up!" said Gerald. "The bold Captain, reproving the silly chatter of his subordinates ,"

"I like that!" said Jimmy, indignant.

"I thought you would," resumed Gerald "of his subordinates, bade them advance with caution and in silence, because after all there might be some

with anallowance from his patron, and (it is generally agreed) madeacquaintance with the money-lenders. He was supposed, by hispatron and any others who inquired, to be "writing"; but what hewrote, other than letters asking for more time to pay, has neverbeen discovered. However, he attended the theatres and musichalls very regularly--no doubt with a view to some seriousarticles in the "Spectator" on the decadence of the Englishstage.

Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died duringhis third year in London, and left him all the money he wanted.From that moment his life loses its legendary character, andbecomes more a matter of history. He settled accounts with themoney-lenders, abandoned his crop of wild oats to the harvestingof others, and became in his turn a patron. He patronized theArts. It was not only usurers who discovered that Mark Ablett nolonger wrote for money; editors were now offered freecontributions as well as free lunches; publishers were givenagreements f