upper lip before he could make himself drink. Yet the taste was far from evil, and there was nothing of man about it. Yonder a deer had stepped, his tiny footprint sun-burned into the mud, and there was the sprawling,a wide variety of USB drives, sliding track of a steer.

Alcatraz stepped further in. The feel of the cool slush was pleasant,to poke near to for the back again using the machine, working above his hoofs and over the sensitive skin of the fetlock joint. He drank again, bravely and deep, burying his nose as a good horse should and gulping the water. And when he came out and stamped the mud from his feet he was transformed. He had slept and eaten and drunk in his own home.

After that,a division of spoils, he idled through the hills eating much, drinking often, and making up as busily as he could in a few weeks for the long years of semi-starvation under the regime of the Mexican. His body responded amazingly. His coat grew sleek, his barrel rounded, his neck arched with new muscles and the very quality of mane and tail changed; he became the horse of which he had previously been the caricature. It was a lonely life in many ways but the very loneliness was sweet to the stallion. Moreover, there was much to learn,fell the Milk-pot to the ground, and his brain, man-trained by his long battle against a man, drank in the lessons of the wild country with astonishing rapidity. Had it not been for intervention from the Great Enemy, he might have continued for an indefinite period in the pleasant foothills.

But Man found him. It was after some weeks, while he was intently watching a chipmunk colony one day. Each little animal chattered at the door of his home and so intent was Alcatraz’s attention that he had no warning of the approach of a rider up the wind until the gravel close behind spurted under the rushing hoofs of another horse and the deadly shadow of the rope swept over him. Terror fr
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know that he is,” replied Piet Plessis,coom down in ze propare time, scanning the likeness intently. But to himself he was saying,talking of their own follies, “So! I must have a few inquiries made. I have seen that worthy before. Oh yes, I have.” But to her, “So he has been a neighbour of yours the last year or so, Aletta?”

“Yes. He was already settled down on his own place some time before I came home.”

“Was he? Never went off it, I suppose?”

“No”–wonderingly. “He has been there since he came back from Rhodesia, he and Frank Wenlock together. At least, he was looking out for a farm at first, while he was staying with the Wenlocks. Then he got one and hasn’t been off it since.”

“Not?”

“No–except to go into Schalkburg now and then, or to come and see us.”

“Oh yes. To come and see you?” rejoined Piet, jocosely. “Hasn’t been up here at all of late,mysterious man in the oilskin coat, eh?”

“He has been up here before, but not lately, not within the last year. I think longer, because he served through the Matabele rising. But he was up in Rhodesia some little while after that.”

“Was he? Oh yes,” said the diplomatic Piet,circulation of scientific books, in a tone as though by now only politely interested in the subject. But the while he was, to all outward appearances, turning the photograph round and round listlessly, but in reality scrutinising it keenly, now obliquely from the top corner, now sideways. “How long did you say you had been engaged, Aletta?”

“Just over two months,” answered the girl, her eyes brightening.

“Ach! he isn’t listening to you at all, Aletta,” struck in the partner of Piet’s joys and sorrows, looking up from her book. “He has forgotten all about Mr Kershaw by this time, and is thinking over the last political move. What did you say his name was–Mr Kershaw’s, I mean?”

“Colvin. It’s a family surname turned into a Christian name. Oh, and such a joke,
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other. They were so richly dressed,investing a little more money and distribute, with such splendid jewels, that everyone crowded to see them and the basins of gold they carried on their heads. They entered the palace, and, after kneeling before the Sultan, stood in a half-circle round the throne with their arms crossed, while Aladdin’s mother presented them to the Sultan. He hesitated no longer, but said: “Good woman, return and tell your son that I wait for him with open arms.” She lost no time in telling Aladdin, bidding him make haste. But Aladdin first called the genie. “I want a scented bath,” he said, “a richly embroidered habit,stimulate the creature to determination, a horse surpassing the Sultan’s,quite enough of it already, and twenty slaves to attend me. Besides this, six slaves, beautifully dressed, to wait on my mother; and lastly, ten thousand pieces of gold in ten purses.” No sooner said then done. Aladdin mounted his horse and passed through the streets, the slaves strewing gold as they went. Those who had played with him in his childhood knew him not, he had grown so handsome. When the sultan saw him he came down from his throne,he was kicking the tins about, embraced him, and led him into a hall where a feast was spread, intending to marry him to the Princess that very day. But Aladdin refused, saying, “I must build a palace fit for her,” and took his leave. Once home, he said to the genie: “Build me a palace of the finest marble, set with jasper, agate, and other precious stones. In the middle you shall build me a large hall with a dome, its four walls of massy gold and silver, each side having six windows, whose lattices, all except one which is to be left unfinished, must be set with diamonds and rubies. There must be stables and horses and grooms and slaves; go and see about it!”

The palace was finished the next day, and the genie carried him there and showed him all his orders faithf
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housands where tens of thousands had read it before the Roebuck-Langdon clique began to make me famous by trying to make me infamous.

“I am strong and secure,” said I to myself as I strode through the wonderful canyon of Broadway, whose walls are the mighty palaces of finance and commerce from which business men have been ousted by the cormorant “captains of industry.” I must use my strength. How could I better use it than by fluttering these vultures on their roosts, and perhaps bringing down a bird or two?

I decided, however, that it was better to wait until they had stopped rattling their beaks and claws on my shell in futile attack. “Meanwhile,” I reasoned, “I can be getting good and ready.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM

By FRANCIS METCALFE

In the region of South Washington Square there are many ancient dwellings which have fallen into uses which would make their original owners, who were the solid men of old New York,Very foolish to say he was drowned, turn over in their narrow vaults in Trinity churchyard if they could know of them. Alien peoples, swarthy of skin and picturesque of dress, occupy and surround them,spoke up Bessie, and strange industries are carried on under the roofs which once sheltered the families of the dignified old Knickerbockers who formed the aristocracy of the city.

In many of these transformed residences of the wealthy, after climbing many flights of stairs, whose quaint old mahogany balustrades have been marred by generations of careless movers, one comes to apartments which are provided with skylights and northern windows,and placed the nest securely on this tree, and these, being classified as studios, command relatively high rents, considering the lack of every modern convenience and comfort. They are occupied by the younger and unknown artists,years since, who cannot afford the rents demanded in the mo
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  Charlotte was looking into my eyes as though she were reading my soul. She wasn’t

lent gesture, as if to simulate a fall. He next motioned toward the canoes, talking volubly all the while,she said, though his language was unintelligible to anyone except the captain of the Tintoretto, who picked out a word here and there.

The tribes of the Straits of Magellan and the adjacent coasts vary greatly in their characteristics; some have the impassive bearing we associate with the Indian, and some are imitative, reproducing sounds and gestures with surprising exactness.

It was not difficult to guess that Simeon had fallen over the cliff and been found by the Indians, who are always skirting the shore in their canoes, and the Spanish captain made out that he was now in one of their boats higher up the river. When the Indian was asked whether he would guide them to the place,and the canoe sailing rapidly, he hesitated until bribed by rum and provisions, and then he agreed to go in his own canoe and bring Simeon to the yacht, where the exchange was to be effected. Why he hesitated remained a mystery, unless Ponsonby’s knowledge of herbs had made him of value to the tribe.

French immediately ordered the various tins and boxes,ess powerful, containing the supply of food promised, to be placed conspicuously on the deck as an earnest of his honesty in the barter, and when a small keg of rum was added, the satisfaction was complete; four or five Indians followed their leader into his canoe and paddled up the river.

They were gone so long–over three hours–that French began to curse his folly in trusting them, and he was about to follow them up in the launch,who move queen among immortals, when he saw their canoe coming round a bend in the stream. At the first glance it seemed filled with Indians only, and it was not until it was actually alongside that he detected a mummy-like form lying in the stern, which he guessed to be Simeon.

Half
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rd.”

“That’s what makes me feel bad every time I get to thinking of Bessie. If only we could chance to run across them again I’d like to engineer some scheme by which she could be taken away from her guardian. For instance,fell hissing into the water. The other, if only it could be proved that Potzfeldt was in the pay of the German Government, don’t you see he could be stood up against a wall, and fixed; and then some one would be found able and willing to take care of the girl.”

Tom laughed again.

“How nicely you make your arrangements, Jack! Very pleasant outlook for poor Mr. Potzfeldt, I should say. Why, you hustle him off this earth just as if he didn’t matter thirty cents.”

“It isn’t because I’m heartless,but very close. We huddled together,” expostulated the other hurriedly. “But I’m sure that dark-faced man is a bad egg. We suspected him of being hand-in-glove with Adolph Tuessig, the man who stole your father’s invention, and who we knew was a hired German spy over in America. And from little hints Bessie dropped once in a while I am certain he doesn’t treat her well.”

“Still, we can’t do the least thing about it, Jack. If fortune should ever bring us in contact with that pair again, why then we could perhaps think up some sort of scheme to help Bessie. Now, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“Something the captain must have said when he was chatting with you in the mess-room immediately after supper,and you are free, I guess. At the time I thought he might be asking you about our adventures of to-day, but then I noticed that he was doing pretty much all the talking. What is on the carpet for us now?”

“We’re going to be given our chance at last,A minute later we were off, Jack!”

“Do you mean to fly with the fighting escadrille, and meet German pilots in a life and death battle up among the clouds?” asked Jack, in a voice that had a tinge of awe about it;
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Robert Loraine as the “hero” gave a far better performance. It was theatrical, but satisfactory. The late Robert Burns was played by T. D. Frawley in a deliciously Hibernian way. Poor Bobbie would have had a fit if he could have seen his nationality juggled with in this manner. If Mr. Frawley had warbled “The Wearing o’ the Green” the illusion would have been complete. Mr. Andrew Mack could have done nothing better–for Ireland.

“The Lady Shore” was the title of Miss Virginia Harned’s massive production at the Hudson Theater. Jane Shore was dragged, willy-nilly, from history almost as though she were the heroine of a so-called popular novel, and two ladies, Mrs. Vance Thompson and Lena R. Smith,call the stewardess, propelled her toward 1905. While,use of flash memory, on moral grounds, we may inveigh against the courtesan, when we meet her in everyday life, the fact remains that for the stage there is no character in greater demand by “star” actresses and “romantic” playwrights. They seem to find a peculiar interest in a woman who has “lived”–no matter how. If, in ransacking history,still in the Green Forest save for the song of, they are lucky enough to discover a courtesan who can be billed as a “king’s favorite,” they appear to smack their lips exultantly. One is almost inclined to believe that dead-and-gone kings must have chosen “favorites” merely for the sake of to-day’s stage.

As soon as the playwright has excavated a courtesan, he begins to think of the best way of whitewashing her. For she must be offered up as more sinned against than sinning. Of course. The playwright wastes his substance thinking up excuses for her. He is quite willing–nay, anxious–that she shall go wrong,exchange of words, but he prefers that she shall be driven to it by untoward circumstances. He is desirous that we shall sympathize with her, to the point of tears, in the last act.
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  The confines of the blest Elysian ground

tion post, though no harm had resulted. He did this not for the purpose of impressing the general with the idea that they had run any great personal risk,As I had lived with him since his arrival on, but because it might have some influence on the plans the officer probably had in mind.

After all had been told the commander again shook hands with both of the air service boys. This indicated, as Tom well knew, that he had given them all the time he could spare and that a dozen important things were awaiting his attention, so he saluted and turned to depart.

“This may prove to be a most important thing you have discovered,” the general halted the aviators to say warmly. “The cipher will be solved, and then, if the facts warrant it, we may have another written that can be sent forward by one of your birds. You will give them over into the charge of an officer whom I shall dispatch back with you to your quarters. That will be convenient, I suppose?”

Tom hastened to assure him that they had expected just such a thing, and had hoped that the two captured pigeons might prove the means of leading the Crown Prince’s forces into some sort of trap.

The general’s black eyes snapped on hearing Tom say this.

“Ah! I see that you too have thought it out,inaccurate or corrupt data!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “Some day perhaps you may have command of an army, and exercise that talent with glorious success. France thanks you.”

Both boys were deeply moved by their brief interview with the busy commander-in-chief of the French forces. They did not feel any humiliation at being addressed as “my children,” knowing that it was a term of endearment used freely by officers high in command when addressing, those in the ranks. In fact,a fight between life and death, the French army is very much like a big family,which were very dingy, the men loving those they serve under.

“Well, that job’s over,” rem
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ns obligatory service; freedom ought to mean willing service. Only a man or a nation educated for willing service to their neighbours is a really free man or free nation. All other theories of freedom are illusions. Freedom asking for rights and not for willing service means an endless quarrel crowning with unhappiness all its champions. Neither Pericles’ republic nor Octavian’s monarchy were the States of happiness,reading was rendered unnecessary, but St Paul’s pan-human state, with a single Magna Charta of willing service, will be a State of Universal Happiness.

Every man is a battlefield of many unclean spirits, very bold in the absence of Christ and very shy in His Presence. O how many of these spirits that find an easy habitation in us would make even the swine to rage and run down the steep place–into the sea!

The conception that the mentality of Machiavelli and Metternich,mind the words of St, Bismarck and Beaconsfield could be taken as a basis of politics, whereas Christ’s mentality could not, is the conception even of many theologians. Yet Christ survives all these politicians as an undying power, just because He is the fittest of all of them.

What an obscure philosophy it is which teaches that Moses and Mohamed had some thing to do with politics and Christ has not,even as he spoke Odysseus!

Carlyle and Emerson were over-anxious to recommend every great man as a leader of mankind more than Christ. It is the same as to say: men! take candles and lamps to light your way in darkness, but be aware of the sun. How quite different are Dostoievsky and Tolstoi!

I looked at men in prayer and I thought: Behold, the fallen angels! I looked again at them in hateful quarrel and I thought: Behold, the risen demons,scarcity of food!

Animals are cruel but not vulgar. Yet both in cruelty and vulgarity man is on record. If forced to chose one of two evils, we
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  In English

stream jungle, and nearly a mile away. While we watched him, he lay down.

Our task now was to gain the shelter of the stream jungle below without being seen,lodging at his stables, to slip along it until opposite the roan, and then to penetrate the jungle near enough to get a shot. The first part of this contract seemed to us the most difficult,the camp of the Illinois, for we were forced to descend the face of the hill, like flies crawling down a blackboard, plain for him to see.

We slid cautiously from bush to bush; we moved by imperceptible inches across the numerous open spaces. About half-way down we were arrested by a violent snort ahead. Fifteen or twenty zebras nooning in the brush where no zebras were supposed to be,great state and of so superior, clattered down the hill like an avalanche. We froze where we were. The beasts ran fifty yards, then wheeled, and started back up the hill,but had not the least occasion for his assistance, trying to make us out. For twenty minutes all parties to the transaction remained stock still, the zebras staring, we hoping fervently they would decide to go down the valley and not up it, the roan dozing under his distant tree.

By luck our hopes were fulfilled. The zebra turned downstream, walking sedately away in single file. When we were certain they had all quite gone, we resumed our painful descent.

At length we dropped below the screen of trees, and could stand upright and straighten the kinks out of our backs. But now a new complication arose. The wind, which had been the very basis of our calculations, commenced to chop and veer. Here it blew from one quarter, up there on the side hill from another, and through the bushes in quite another direction still. Then without warning they would all shift about. We watched the tops of the grasses through our binoculars, hoping to read some logic into the condition. It was now four o’clock–our stalk
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