THE IRON Casket

MR. FENWICK.

The House of Commons framing its Rules of Procedure, and anxious above all things to provide even overlapping opportunities for speech-making, supplies a final illimitable opportunity on the Appropriation Bill. This is brought in at the close of a Session, and upon its second reading members may discuss any subject under the sun. Any speech a member may have prepared at an earlier period of the Session, upon any subject whatsoever, may, failing the first legitimate opportunity, be worked off on the Appropriation Bill. This measure plays the part of the seven baskets in the parable. All the elocutionary or disputatious fragments that remain after the feast of the Session are picked up and crammed within its ample folds.

That is bad enough. But since discovery was made of potentialities of debate on the Address, that occasion has been utilized in analogous fashion. Now we have an Appropriation Bill debate at the beginning of the Session, with pleasing prospect of another at its close.

INNOVATION.

The present Session will be memorable in the long record, since it witnessed an innovation that is probably the beginning of the end of an absurd custom. From time immemorial it has been ordained that members moving and seconding the Address in reply to the Speech from the Throne shall array themselves in uniform if they have the right to wear it. Failing that, they must strut in the velvet and ruffles of Court dress. This Session Mr. Fenwick was selected to second the Address. The member for the Wansbeck Division of Northumberland is one of the most highly esteemed members of the House of Commons, a man of modest mien and great capacity, an excellent speaker, who has the priceless gift of conveying to an audience conviction that he knows what he is talking about and means what he says.

MOVER AND SECONDER.

Mr. Fenwick, as he has proudly recorded in the pages of "Dod," began his career as a working collier, and when, in 1885, elected to a seat in the House of Commons, he threw down his pick in the Bebside Colliery as a preliminary to having a good wash, changing his clothes, and going up to Westminster. Court dress is, of course, not common at Bebside, neither is the crimson and gold lace of the dauntless Colonel of Militia, or the epaulettes and tightly-buttoned frock-coat of the Rear-Admiral. If Mr. Fenwick had been inclined to act up to the spirit of the ordinance, he might have appeared in his old collier's garb. With pick and spade under his arm, and lantern in his hand, he would have made a picturesque figure. That, however, did not seem to occur to him, and he had the good sense to break through the tradition by appearing in his ordinary Sunday go-to-meeting clothes, leaving his colleague who moved the Address to dazzle the House with sight of the uniform of the 4th Oxfordshire Light Infantry.

THE HORSE GUARDS' GATE.

A member of Parliament may at this day send from the House of Commons, post free, a certain number of copies of Parliamentary papers. This is a poor relic of the privilege of franking, long since abolished. Ministers still have the privilege of sending their letters post free. This is done by the medium of the stamp that marks an envelope "Official: Paid." Presumably this limits the privilege to official correspondence. But the line is, as a rule, not too closely drawn. When is added the fact, only recently established, and, I believe, not widely known in the House, that members may obtain from the post-office in the Lobby packets of excellent envelopes at the bare cost of the postage-stamps with which they are embossed, the list of special privileges pertaining to the estate of a member of the British Parliament corresponding with those enjoyed by foreign legislatures is completed.

There is one privilege much coveted by members domiciled in the neighbourhood of the House of Commons. It is the opportunity of approaching the West-end by driving through the Horse Guards' entrance by Whitehall. A supporter of the late Government who lived in Whitehall Gardens, and to whom this avenue would have been a particular convenience, used all his influence to obtain the coveted permission. In reply to his importunate demands, significantly addressed to the Chief Whip of his party, then in power, he received for answer: "My dear fellow, if you like I'll get you made an Irish Peer. But not being on the list, you may not ride or drive through the Horse Guards."

The thing has, nevertheless, been done. A popular Q.C. is accustomed to ride every morning along the Embankment to the Courts. One day, taking the upper ride skirting St. James's Park, he came out on the Horse Guards' Parade, and thought he would try the sentinelled passage into Whitehall. Walking his horse through, he was challenged by the sentry.

"Don't you know me?" he sternly said. "I am one of Her Majesty's Counsel."

The soldier saluted, and Mr. Frank Lockwood gravely rode on.

THE IRON CasketFROM THE GERMANA Story for Children.

FROM THE GERMAN

InBagdad, in the little lane by the Golden Bridge, lived, ages ago, a merchant named Kalif. He was a quiet, retiring man, who sat early and late in his little shop, and went but once a year to Mosul or Shiraz, where he bought embroidered robes in exchange for otto of roses.

On one of these journeys, chancing to have fallen a little in the rear of his caravan, he heard roarings and trampling of horses' hoofs in the thicket close by the roadside. Drawing his sword, which he wore on account of thieves, he entered the thicket. On a little green, surrounded by trees, he saw a horseman in a light blue mantle and a turban, fastened by a flashing diamond. The horse, an Arab of purest blood, seemed to have lost its senses. Rearing upright with a piercing neigh, it struggled vainly to dislodge an enormous panther which had fixed its great claws in the horse's flanks. The rider had lost all control over it; blood and foam poured from its mouth and nostrils. Kalif sprang boldly out, and with a mighty stroke split the panther's skull, and flinging away his sword, ran to the horse's head, thereby enabling the rider to dismount. Having calmed the trembling animal, the horseman begged his rescuer to follow him.

"I had lost my way in the chase," he said, "and should have fallen a victim to the panther if Allah had not sent you to my aid. I will reward you well for your bravery. Come! let us seek my companions; there, behind that wood, my camp must be."

"I did what any other would have done in my place," answered Kalif, simply, "and expect no reward. But, if you so will it, I will accompany you to your tents."

The stranger took his horse by the rein and walked in silence at the merchant's side till they arrived at an opening in the trees. Here, surrounded by several smaller ones, stood one large tent of purple linen. A number of richly clad men threw themselves on their faces before the new comer. Then Kalif knew whom he had saved: it was the Shah himself! He was about to fall at his feet, but the Shah seized his hand and led him into the tent. Inside, standing on five stools, were five caskets, the first of gold set with jewels, the second of gold alone, the third silver, the fourth copper, and the fifth of iron.

"Choose one of these caskets," said the Shah.

Kalif hesitated. At length he said:—

"What I did is not worthy of any reward, but if you will it, oh! King of Kings, I will take one of these caskets to remind me of the day when my eyes were permitted to behold the Light of Asia."

He stooped and took the iron casket.

The Shah started. "Stranger," he said, "your modesty has met with its own reward. You have chosen the most valuable casket, for, look! the others are empty; but this one contains two jewels which possess the magic gift of bestowing undreamed-of power to their owner." He raised the lid and showed the wondering Kalif the two stones. "This one," he said, "is a lapis lazuli. Whosoever winds it in the folds of his turban, to him everything is known that has happened since the world began, and no secret can be hidden from him. But this stone," and he took a diamond the size of a dove's egg from the casket, "this stone brings all the riches he can think of to its owner. He has but to rub the stone and repeat his wish aloud." He replaced the stones in the casket, closed the lid, and handed it to the merchant, who thanked the Shah, hid the treasure in his robes, and hastened to rejoin his caravan.

Once more in his own house he often looked at the princely gift, and one day as he was rubbing the lid he noticed an inscription upon it that had hitherto been unseen. It ran:—

'Tis Allah's will that to him who cherishesThe precious gift that never perishes,The East shall erstwhile all bow down,So far the date on palm is grown.

"THE ELDEST SON PROPOSED THAT THEY SHOULD DRAW LOTS."

He never spoke of his adventure in the Kalaat Mountains, neither could he ever make up his mind to test the virtue of the stones, being a frugal man on the one hand, and unwilling to surpass his neighbours in wisdom on the other. But at length the news of the Shah's rescue by the merchant reached even Bagdad, together with the account of the Royal reward, and people jostled one another to call on the merchant and see with their own eyes the wonderful casket. In consequence Kalif had more customers in one day than he generally had in ten years, and his daily receipts testified to the worth of the casket. For many years he enjoyed the reward of his bravery, and at his death Ali Haitam, the eldest son, proposed that they should draw lots for the magic stones. He had great ideas of his own cleverness, and hoped from the bottom of his heart to win the lapis lazuli. Ali Hassuf, the second son, whose sole failing was insatiable greed, was quite agreeable. (In secret he was revolving in his own mind how to obtain the diamond in case it fell into the hands of the youngest son.) But just as they were about to draw, Abdul Kassim, the youngest son, said: "Dear brothers, we are three, and thereare but two stones. It would be better, therefore, for one to renounce his claim in order that no dispute may arise in our hitherto peace-loving family. I am the youngest, and therefore can have least claim on the stones. Throw to decide which stone shall fall to each. I resign!"

The other two were delighted, and as it happened each got the stone he desired.

"But in order that I may have a keepsake of my dear father," continued Abdul Kassim, "permit me to take home the casket. It will be of no use to you since you have divided the contents."

Ali Hassuf hesitated at first, but finally agreed to Kassim's wish.

The three brothers left the empty house, and went each to seek his fortune in his own way.

Ali Haitam bought a piece of muslin, folded it into a turban, sewed the lapis lazuli inside, and fixed it firmly on his head. Then he went to the bazaar and waited for an influx of wisdom. And see! The power of the stone set to work and his mind was filled with knowledge! He knew the origin of all things, and his eyes could see through walls five feet thick! He passed the Caliph's palace, and he could see that in the recesses of the cellars were hidden 9,000 sacks of gold, and that Fatma, the daughter of the Caliph, was the most lovely maiden in the East; and an idea occurred to him that dazzled him. "How would it be," he thought, "if I placed my wisdom at the Caliph's disposal, became his first adviser, and finally married the lovely Fatma?" But together with this dream came the longing to display to an admiring crowd some proofs of his wisdom.

He hurried back to the bazaar, mounted the highest steps at the gates, and cried: "You people of Bagdad, who believe that the sun moves round the earth, you are ignorant fools and sons of fools! Hear now what I preach to you. The sun stands still, but the earth moves!"

He intended to continue, but the cries of the bystanders interrupted him.

"Ali Haitam has gone mad," they cried; "listen to the nonsense he is talking. Come, let us hold him head first under the lion's mouth at the spring; that will restore him to reason!"

"THE JUICY FRUIT KNOCKED THE TURBAN FROM ALI'S HEAD."

And one, a fruit dealer, took an orange, and crying, "Ali Haitam is right, the sun moves just as little as this orange!" flung the orange at the philosopher on the steps. The juicy fruit knocked the turban from Ali's head. He stooped to regain it, but in vain. The fruit dealer's throw was the signal for a general onslaught, so that he was obliged to take to his heels and fly for home. Dirty and panting he reached his hut, deeply grieved at the loss of his precious stone, and furious at the stupidity of the people who showed so little understanding of the first principles of science.

The second brother started more cautiously. Since he had but seldom been further than the end of the narrow street, by the Golden Bridge, he was not in a position to think of anything very precious to wish for; he therefore first visited the bazaar and asked the price of everything he saw. At last he found something that, on account of its high price, made a great impression on him. It was a Turkish sword that a cunning jeweller had studded thickly with diamonds on handle and sheath. The dealer asked 1,500 golden coins for it, and the bystanders stared with open eyes at the man who dared to bargain for such costly possessions. Just as Ali Hassuf was weighing the precious sword in his hand, a palanquin was borne through the crowd. He turned, and through the drawn curtains caught sight of a maiden of wondrous beauty. When he heard that she was the Caliph's daughter, the desire awoke in his soul to marry this lovely creature, and it seemed to him not unlikely that the Caliph would give his daughter to a man of such note as he would become as the possessor of the magic diamond. He decided to buy the sword, and, armed with the same, to visit the Caliph the very next day.

"I shall come again the very first thing to-morrow morning," he said to the dealer. "I have not quite enough money with me now, but I shall procure it this evening. I had quite expected," he added, boastingly, "that the sword would be expensive."

"HE OPENED ONE, AND FELT INSIDE."

He turned and went home, where he saddled the thin ass and hung across its back two large panniers. When it grew dark he softly drove the beast through the yard and led it out into the desert. For about an hour he walked, and in imagination saw himself in possession of all the glories the talisman would bring him. He never noticed that he was followed by three dark forms, who had never lost sight of him since his visit to the bazaar. He halted by a group of stunted palms, spread out a large cloth, and with trembling fingers began to rub the diamond, crying at the same time: "Spirit of the Stone! send me at once twenty shekels of golden coins!" He waited a moment, and listened into the darkness, thinking he heard whispering voices. But as all was silent he repeated his wish for the second and third time. He heard a noise as of the falling of soft, heavy weights, and, on stooping, found twenty well-filled sacks. He opened one, and felt inside. And, truly! it was really gold in bright new coins! With feverish haste he slung the sacks on the ass's back, and turned its head homewards. Suddenly he heard once more the same mysterious whisperings, this time in his immediate neighbourhood. He stood still and listened with bated breath. He felt himself seized by heavy hands and thrown to the ground, and saw another form seize the ass. Two men with blackened faces tore off his turban and robe and left him lying half naked by the roadside, after having warned him to keep quiet as to this attack unless he wished to lose his life. Trembling with fright and rage, he saw the robbers disappear with his ass in the direction of the mountains. What pained him most was the loss of his diamond, which he had concealed in his robe. He reached home, where he lay hidden for weeks, too ashamed to show himself in the streets or at the bazaar. But once as he saton the Golden Bridge fishing, to try and provide himself with a frugal meal, the weapon dealer passed him by, and said: "Well, Ali Hassuf, when are you coming for your sword?"

But sword and Princess were for ever lost to Ali Hassuf.

In the meantime, as the two elder brothers sat mourning their losses, Abdul Kassim, the youngest, sat at home in his little house by the gardens, thinking with regret of his father, and wondering what he should do to earn himself his daily bread. Before him, on a little stool, stood the iron casket. There came a knock at the door, and Micha ben Jahzeel, the Jew, who had lent him money a month or two ago, walked in. Micha looked grave and said: "Abdul Kassim, times are bad, and ready money gets scarcer and scarcer. You know I lent you ten golden coins, and I have come to ask"—his eyes fell on the casket and he started, but collecting himself, went on: "I have come to tell you that I am not in an immediate hurry for the return of the loan. If you like you can keep it, or as it is hardly worth mentioning, keep it for some months, or even years if you like. I only wanted to tell you you needn't trouble about it, there is no hurry at all." He bowed low to his debtor and withdrew.

Abdul Kassim marvelled at the change in the Jew's manner, but as he thought of the looks he had cast at the casket he couldn't help smiling.

On the same evening came his neighbour, the clothes dealer, who had not visited him for years. "Dear friend," he said, and placed a bundle on the floor before Kassim, "I have come to entreat your pardon that my horse should have splashed your robe with mud the other day; he is a young thing, and is not yet properly broken. I have brought you a new robe to replace it, which I hope will please you." Then he withdrew. The young man could not recollect having been splashed by his neighbour's horse, still less could he account for the generosity of one who was celebrated for his meanness in presenting him with such an elaborately embroidered robe.

Next morning, just as he had put on his new robe, a distant relation arrived, bringing a magnificently caparisoned horse.

"Dear cousin," he said—formerly he had not even noticed him—"your appearance grieves me. I feared you were giving way too much to grief at the loss of your father, and it would give me great pleasure to cheer you a little. I have ventured to bring you this horse, which is overcrowding my stable; do me the favour to accept this little gift!"

Abdul Kassim would have refused, but the cousin had hurried away. There he stood holding the beautiful animal by the bridle. He could not resist the temptation to mount him. He swung himself into the saddle and rode into the town. Everyone bowed to him, and many stood still, saying: "There, I told you so! Abdul Kassim was always the favourite son, and he has inherited the casket!"

Next morning, as the barber sharpened his razor and began to shave the Caliph, the latter asked him: "Well, Harmos, what are my subjects talking about just now?"

The barber bowed to the ground and said: "What should they speak of, oh, King of the Faithful, if not of your goodness and wisdom?"

"Of your idiotcy, son of a she ass," shouted the Caliph, bored by the eternal flatteries of the barber. "Tell me, what are the people talking about?"

"They talk," began Harmos, hesitatingly; "they talk of the luck of your servant, Abdul Kassim, whom they call the wisest and richest of your subjects."

"Abdul Kassim? I don't even know his name," said the Caliph.

"He is the son and heir of Kalif," continued the barber, more courageously, "the same Kalif whom the Shah once rewarded with a magic casket."

He related at length all about the magic stones. The Caliph listened attentively, dismissed the barber, and sent a message to the Grand Vizier to come at once. The Vizier came and confirmed the barber's tale. "Abdul Kassim," he said, "knows everything that goes on in the world, and whenever he has a wish, all he has to do to fulfil it is to rub the diamond and say what he wants."

The Caliph grew serious. "Do you think, Vizier, that this man could usurp my throne? How would it be if I gave him a palace and raised him to be the husband of my daughter?"

The Grand Vizier agreed to the proposal of his ruler, and undertook himself to convey to the astounded Abdul Kassim the tidings that the Commander of the Faithful had given him a palace and awaited his visit.

The same evening the new favourite of the Caliph packed all his few belongings on the horse's back, took the iron casket under his arm and, amid the cheers of the crowd, entered the palace.

A troop of negroes received him and threwthemselves at his feet. An especially gorgeously arrayed slave led him into a room, where a banquet awaited him. Abdul Kassim had never fared so well in his life. But he did not forget to praise Allah for his goodness. Next morning he put on his gorgeous robe, bound on the magnificent sword he found in the great hall, and rode, accompanied by the negroes, to visit the Caliph.

"'SON OF A SHE ASS', SHOUTED THE CALIPH."

The Commander of the Faithful sat on the throne and awaited his subject, who, when he appeared, was about to throw himself in the dust at the ruler's feet, but the Caliph descended the three steps of the throne, and took the young man's hand.

"Are you Abdul Kassim," he said, "son of Kalif, the merchant who lived by the Golden Bridge?"

"I am he, Caliph," answered Abdul; "permit me to express my thanks for the palace with which you have endowed your most humble servant."

"I have heard much good of you," said the Caliph, when he had ordered his suite to retire; "and pray you to show me the magic jewels that help you to such power and wisdom."

"Of which jewels are you speaking?" asked Abdul Kassim, amazed.

"Well," smiled the Caliph, "which jewels should I mean but those you have inherited from your father?"

The young man stared. So the Caliph, too, took him for the possessor of the magic stones? Without reserve he confessed that, to avoid disputes, he had voluntarily retired and left the stones to his brothers.

"But," said the Caliph, "Micha ben Jahzeel, the Jew, saw the casket in your house!"

"The casket he may have seen," answered Abdul Kassim; "I begged it of my brothers in memory of my father."

The Caliph seemed still in doubt. He sent a slave to Abdul Kassim's palace to bring the casket. The messenger brought it, gave it to the Caliph, and retired. The Caliph opened the lid and looked inside. It was in truth empty! His gaze fell on the inscription:—

'Tis Allah's will that to him who cherishesThe precious gift that never perishes,The East shall erstwhile all bow down,So far the date on palm is grown.

He read the verse and looked at the youth. "Abdul Kassim," he said, "you have jewels in your heart more precious than all the treasures of the earth. For love of your brothers you gave up the stones, and for love of your father you have preserved this seemingly worthless casket. But Allah has blessed you for your virtues and has, by means of this humble iron casket, raised you to power and wealth. I dare not refuseto assist you. I will give you the most priceless gift at my disposal—the hand of my only daughter."

He called the chief overseer of the harem and bade him lead Fatma to the throne-room. The maiden had passed the night in weeping, for she had heard that she was to be given in marriage to a strange man. She shuddered at the thought, for as only child of the Caliph she had been thoroughly spoilt, and hated the idea of leaving her father's roof.

Abdul Kassim, who until now had been struck utterly dumb with astonishment, could not refrain from a cry of admiration at the sight of the lovely Fatma. She seemed to him a hundred times more beautiful than any description he had heard of her in Bagdad.

In the midst of her grief Fatma retained her woman's curiosity, and on hearing the youth's voice, cast one glance at him over her father's shoulder. The first impression seemed not unfavourable. She eyed his slender form as he stood leaning on his sword, and gradually ceased her sobbing. She even raised herself and took hold of the Caliph's arm. "Father," she said, "do with me what you will; not without cause do the people call you 'The Wise One.'"

"'FATHER,' SHE SAID, 'DO WITH ME WHAT YOU WILL.'"

So Fatma was married to Abdul. But neither she nor any other ever knew that the iron casket connected with her young lord's rise and power was empty. The Caliph advised his son-in-law to maintain the deepest silence as to the absence of the magic jewels.

In the fifth year of their wedded life the Caliph, feeling the weight of advancing years, abdicated in Abdul Kassim's favour, so the verse on the casket lid was fulfilled, and Abdul Kassim reigned many, many years over Bagdad, the best and wisest ruler who had ever ascended the throne. Allah's name be praised!

THE BEAUTY-COLLEGE TOY.

"Mother!Haveyou seen this?" exclaimed Genevieve. "Dolisten what the paper says:—

"'The latest American notion is the recently instituted College of Beauty in New York. The College course knows nothing of dyes, or cosmetics, or powders.... One branch of study deals with the features of the face. The most enchanting beauty of expression will result from the methods adopted in the College. The effect of music on the features receives great attention; the eyes are to be enlarged by Verdi's music; the air of intelligence heightened by Chopin's; and various other ameliorations brought about by other composers, and poets, and so forth.' Just fancy, mother!"

Genevieve was wrapped in silent musing for some minutes; then she arose and crossed over to the mirror and gazed critically into it.

"Of course, it's all nonsense, mother, eh?" she said.

"Most absurd nonsense, my love—most absurd!" replied Mother.

Then Genevieve opened the piano abstractedly and began passing her fingers mechanically over the keys, which, strange to say, gave forth an air by Verdi. The mirror was right opposite Genevieve as she sat at the piano, and she looked casually at it many times.

When tea-time came, two hours and a half later, she was still strumming—strumming a little thing by Verdi, as it happened. Mother sat and smiled upon her indulgently.

That night, when Genevieve had retired to rest, she heard the faint sounds of the piano from the drawing-room; it was playing an air from Verdi. Mother was the only person downstairs who could play the piano.

"Mother," said Genevieve, next day, "of course thatmustbe all nonsense about the College of Beauty, eh? Of course, it would be quite impossible to make oneself more beautiful by——"

"Of course, Jenny, of course—sheer nonsense!" said Mother.

"Ye-es, of course," said Jenny. "But I've often thought Ishouldso love to see New York—haven't you?"

"New York is—no doubt—a—a very interesting place," said Mother.

"Dolet's go—just to see New York!" said Genevieve.

"Er—well; I'll speak to papa about it. Youdowant a change," said Mother.

There was a ring.

"Oh, mother, here's Miss Cloot just getting out of her victoria," said Genevieve. "Now, the College of Beautywouldbe a godsend toher! You must really tell her about it—it would be a charity!"

Miss Cloot was the ugliest old maid in London and its environs within a radius of twenty miles; she was really dreadful—that's the only word for it. She was comfortably off, yet she was still a spinster at forty. She was a remarkable woman, was Miss Cloot—you'll see.

During a lull in the conversation, Mother introduced the subject of the College of Beauty—as a charity. At first Miss Cloot listened with somewhat feeble interest; but after a few moments there suddenly appearedin her eye a remarkable light; beyond that, there was little perceptible change in her manner; but anyone who knew her well would have known that that light in her eye meantsomething.

"Dear me, yes, very interesting—an excellent notion," said Miss Cloot, blandly.

"'AN EXCELLENT NOTION,' SAID MISS CLOOT."

"But you can't think for an instant that there's anything in it?" said Mother.

"Dear me, why not?" said Miss Cloot. "I have no doubt there's a great deal in it. Whyshouldn'tthere be?—'Too wonderful to be true!'—well, but, are Edison's inventions too wonderful to be true? Oh, dear me, no! Not a bit too wonderful. You may be sure there's something in it."

"Do—er—doyoupropose to——?" began Mother: and then it suddenly occurred to her that she had better not askthatquestion; so she turned it off to—"get any new things this spring?"

Miss Cloot went straight home with that remarkable light in her eye all the time; and when she got in she straightway sat down and wrote a dozen letters. Miss Cloot numbered among her extensive acquaintance twelve old maids, all comfortably off, and all plain—though falling short of her own attainments in the latter respect.

On the evening of the following day there was a tea party at Miss Cloot's—it consisted of those twelve other old maids of her acquaintance. It was more of a board meeting than an ordinary tea party, for they took their seats round a table at the head of which sat their hostess.

"Ladies!" said Miss Cloot (who reallywasa remarkable woman—the more I reflect upon her, the more I am impressed by this fact), "I have asked you here to-day to discuss a very important matter—very important to us. Possibly you may have seen this paragraph in the newspaper?" and she handed round the cutting which she had taken from Genevieve's paper.

The twelve old maids read it, and did not seem to see much in it. Miss Cloot's keen intuition perceived this.

"I did not expect you to. We can'tallbe of brilliant intellect, of course," she said. "Pray don't think Iblameyou for any deficiencies in that respect; we none of us can radically alter the intelligence—or want of it—which has been vouchsafed to us."

"But this is a hoax, of course, Celina?" said Miss Wheevyl. "Quite absurd and impossible!"

"THERE WAS A TEA PARTY AT MISS CLOOT'S."

"Not in the least!" replied Miss Cloot, emphatically. "Neither absurd nor impossible. That's where you show your ignorance, Jane. Pray understand, my friends, that I am not proposing that you should all rush out to that College in New York (although Heaven knows you all need its assistance); no, you will do better by remaining where you are. Now, concerning this College. I know what you are going to say—'It doesn't exist!' Very well; whatIhave to say is, if it doesn't exist, why——"

"DO LISTEN!"

At this moment, unfortunately, the door of the council-chamber was suddenly shut, and we heard no more.

"Mother!" said Genevieve, a week or so after, "there's a whole page of advertisement of that College of Beauty in New York!Dolisten: 'Ladies desirous of enrolling themselves as students at the College of Beauty are requested to send in their names at once to the secretaress, Madame Brown. The first hundred ladies will be received at the following reduced fees: Facial-Beauty Curriculum (including Eye-Enlarging, Gaze-Softening, Dimple, Ethereal-Expression, Piquancy, and other classes), 100dols. per term of twelve months.... The system having now been perfected and exhaustively tested, testimonials fromLadies Well Known in Society, who have been rescued fromVARIOUS DEGREES OF HOMELINESSand developed intoBeauties of the First Water, will be sent to all applicants. The leading transatlantic steamship companies have made special arrangements for the conveyance of parties of ladies proceeding to the College of Beauty, New York.'

"Of course, itcan'tbe true, can it, mother?" said Genevieve.

"Oh, dear, no, my love," said Mother.

"But we will go and have a look at New York; won't we?"

"Yes, I think we may as well."

The booming of the College of Beauty re-echoed deafeningly from end to end of the London Press. The subject was dragged into every paragraph about everything. It was the universal topic.

Some weeks after this Jenkinson looked up Wiffler in the evening, and threw himself down in a chair with an exclamation of disgust.

"Hanged if they haven't gone!" he grunted.

"HANGED IF THEY HAVEN'T GONE!"

"Gone? Who?" said Wiffler, passing the tobacco-jar.

"Why, Mrs. Jenkinson and Genevieve have gone to New York—for a change, they said; but they can't hoodwinkme. They've gone to that College of Beauty—that'swherethey'vegone! Nice state of things for me! Left all alone, as if I didn't happen to have such articles as a wife and daughter.... Where'syourwife? Theatre—opera?"

"Not a bit of it!" replied Wiffler, gloomily. "Gone to New York, my friend; andnowI seewhythey were so mad to go that way, although Matilda hates the sea and always gets frightfully ill.NowI see!"

At that moment Gradbury burst in melodramatically, the image of despair.

"Hullo, Gradbury!" said the other two, "what's wrong withyou?"

"Ugh! Everything!" growled Gradbury. "Nice game for a man's wife and three daughters and niece to go off all at once to——"

"New York?" cried Wiffler and Jenkinson, in a breath.

"Ah!—that's the very place!" shrieked Gradbury. "And I'll tell you what—I've my suspicions that——"

"Your suspicions are well founded," said Jenkinson, in a hollow voice. "Thatwastheir object."

Then those three miserable men went off to the club; and the hubbub as they entered the smoke-room told them that something was amiss. Frodwell was standing on the hearthrug declaiming about the right place for a wife being by her husband's side instead of frivolling off to crack-brained colleges holding out all manner of insane and impracticable ——.

About twenty other clubbites stood round and grunted approval.

Anger and gloom were the dominant principles of that smoke-room.

"Yourwife gone over? Oh, no, of course, you haven't got a wife," said Jenkinson to young Flabtree.

"No; and what's more, I'm not likely to have one now. My best girl's gone over to New York—for three years she thinks. Hanged if I know howshecan be improved by that fool of a college—forthat'swhereshe'soff to, you bet! Her fringe keeps frizzy in wet weather, and she has a little dimple each side of her nose; so what morecanshe want?"

"Allmybest girls have gone!" said poor young Grownder, sinking into a settee and covering his face with his hands.

"POSTERS."

It was the same sad story at every club you entered; bereaved married men and deserted bachelors stood mopingly on the hearthrugs or flopped in limp despair on the big chairs. Every day the papers had been filled with advertisements and "pars" and articles about the College of Beauty; flaring posters, with pictures of a lady, before and after a course of the College, covered London: the before lady had wild red hair, a pug-nose, a heavy squint, one immense front tooth, lips like a negro's, and the figure of a sack of potatoes; the after lady—supposed to be the same person—had a Grecian nose, great blue eyes, wavy brown hair, and an ideal figure. Every day the crisis became more grave; the great transatlantic lines had hired extra ships to fill with ladies proceeding to New York: it had been made "worth the while" of several eminent London physicians to prescribe a course of "New York." The sight of a lady in the London streets was becoming more and more rare. Men in a hopeless state of dejection, even of melancholy insanity, roved aimlessly about the pavements. The club-houses had to hire extra accommodation for men whose homes, bereft of the feminine element, had become loathsome and abhorrent to them.

Beautiful suburban villas were left deserted, the dust growing visibly upon the furniture; domestic life among the upper and middle classes had ceased to exist. The milliners' shops were closed; suburban tradesmen were becoming bankrupt; feminine parts at the theatres were played by youths as in old times, while the stalls and dress-circle presented an unbroken line of wretched men, clad in tweed suits, dressing-gowns—anything; so demoralized does man become the instant the refining influence of woman is withdrawn.

There was another board-meeting of the spinsters at Miss Cloot's. Their number was reduced by two recalcitrants, who had been unable to resist the New York fever and had deserted the ranks.

"Idiots!" said Miss Cloot.

Miss Cloot rose at the head of the table and said:—

"Ladies, I need hardly tell you that the operations of our society have been, and are, a complete success. In the course of another week there will not be a woman of any position, except ourselves, in the Metropolitan area. Our secretary, Miss McSwinger, will read to you the numbers of embarcations for New York for the week ending yesterday; and Miss Gorgonia V. Nickerbocker, our New York factotum, is now present among us, and will set before you the statistics of the hiring and fitting up of new annexes of the College of Beauty, which at present accommodates four million seven hundred thousand and odd ladies.

"You will recall to mind how, at our first and preliminary meeting, I said to you: 'What I have to say is, that if this College of Beauty, set forth in this newspaper cutting, does not exist, why, itshallexist; and we will create it.' Whether the original College ever did exist I do not know, butoursdoes. Ladies, it was an idea such as has seldom occurred to woman since the beginning of time. You came wisely forward and threw in your money with mine to set this great work on foot; our money has now gone; but, by reason of the term-fees paid by the pupils, the College is now entirely self-supporting.

"THE LAYING-IN OF JAPANESE FANS."

"Now, ladies, is your time! All the pretty women have gone to New York; every month a certain number of men in this vast Metropolis suddenly decide to marry; for the last five months the deciders have lacked the item indispensable to the carrying out of their object—a woman to marry. The domestic arrangement which they calculated upon, and had prepared for, in many cases even to the laying-in of Japanese fans, scent-cases, hanging wardrobes, and other articles of furniture, has been hopelessly postponed.

"The aggregate of outstanding matrimonial decisions has, owing to the absence of a helpmate to join the board after allotment, become enormous.

"WRETCHED MEN."

"Ladies, those menmustmarry someone, or the scent-cases and wardrobes will losetheir freshness: and they must marry US, or none. It may surprise you when I say that they will prefer evenyoutonone: but you will find it is so!

"Ladies!" she continued, "we have triumphed! Do you hear the murmur without—the murmur of multitudes like the ocean? It is the men! They know that eleven eligible spinsters—not to speak of our excellent factotum, Miss McSwinger—are assembled in this room. Look!"

In two strides she had reached the window-curtains. She threw them back. Without, the whole square and adjacent streets were packed with a surging mass of stove-pipe hats.

As the curtains separated there arose a vast and deafening shout, while ten thousand hands simultaneously held aloft ten thousand wedding rings.

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