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wâ€"q’ HOW HIS MAJESTY NICHOLAS CAME TO ENGLAND. The whole town was passionate over him. dot 31a: Londoner loves a great king.â€"-or.â€"I'li say.â€"even a little one. A. our is the greatest of great kings. Bis fiatâ€"ah. here I am tritely philos- ophlzing. while looking as on that eventful evening. into the vistas of the Green Park; the stretches sinking into shadows. as the watchful yellow lights begin to gleam between the scurying leaves. You know that delightful view with Piccadilly'e chattering roar. "Waiter." But the place was crowd- ed. and I had to be patient. I was lonely and half wished I hadn‘t left Clarges Street. I never have ceased to appreciate the comforts of the Clal‘ges Street lodging. I positively believe that the white-capped landlady is the original fairy godmother. . But Iwon- der.â€"if I were in arrears with my rent. “Whiter.” “Yes. sir; beg pardon. sir; yes. sir. the fillet is delicious. VVhat'll you drink. sir? Thanks, sir." - Presently. as he hustled. I looked out again on Piccadilly. What a lot of people were coming and going! And where indeed do they come from; and where do they go toâ€"these dinnerâ€"coat- ed gentlemen in the hurrying han- soms? Who dines them? I would wish that somebody were dining me. And these ladies in the barouches, with the flunkeys in gold and silver. I would wish-â€"-â€" {But that comes from being alone in London! The talk at a near table took my attention. “Nicholas First.â€"oh. he was the Czar. â€"came when the Queen was twenty- three. This man doesn’t look his part." “He's the Czar," responded the other. Your Anglo-Saxon discusses personages informally. Only at the Queen does criticism hesitate. "He's at Balmoâ€"," the voice went on. But I was not listening, since there had entered. and unattended, a very pretty.â€"-an exquisitely charming young lady. I say this because I am a bit of a critic of interesting women. Now. she was rather tall. extremely well gowned.â€"that is. with the deft sim- plicity of the Parisian modiste. Her face, rather thin, had the clear pallor, â€"the one distinction of some women. but she had many. .lVell. to specify: the forehead was low and broad. under the bonnet covering a mass of dark, waving hair; and the face was alert and vivacious, with the most enter- taining dark eyes. Now. behind her was a man, who evidently was not with her; I, for some reason, noticed him in that glance I gave the lady. She was not English. nor yet American; yes. perhaps American; you never can tell. But the man? I fancied about himâ€"something sleek. even [profes- sional. She had advanced into the middle of .the cafe; you doubtless remember that great. rather brilliant room in the corner opposite Green Park. From the different tables every one glanced at her; for she was-have I said it? â€"â€"a noticeable woman. She stood there, quietly self-possessed, when suddenly she noted the little man I have men- tioned. who had taken a seat at one end of the tables. For a moment she looked frightened; for Ican express in no other way the surprising change sireading over that interestin face. he healtated, and then came goward _ I did not ex wet it. Who indeed would? She too ’ the chair at my side and then with surprising adrottnessâ€"for I saw she wished to ap- pear to know some one in the room. and. I surmised because of that pro- fessmnal little personâ€"she began to speak to me in a delightful voice, in English which. while excellent. was too studied in its inflections to be her na- tive tongue. "Sir. you'll exeuso me; you'll under- stand. 1 am watched. and must appear to know somebody here." Now, as a matter of fact, I didn't uln' derstand at all. "it’s very good of you." I began. striving for cleverness. as if I had ex-. acted her to take that seat at my able. "Ah. I didn't understand. sir.” said the waiter, "two portions?" "One will do for us both,” said my lady. I saw she was trembling. And why? Of course I thought of the lit- tle man who had followed her. "I an sorry," I said. for some reason i can't explain. "l'kiiow you must be." she said. with a touch of laughter. "You are help. ing me out of a dilemma." "Ehâ€"a dilemma ?" said I. "I do not dare he seenâ€"nowâ€"Sinco somebodyl I fear is in the roomâ€"with my table. the gen eman lcauie here to join." "The ntlenian l_" I cried. "He's here! how don't appear to stare : over there at the corner table." I looked. H‘s. too. was rather notice- able. his shirt front well hidden by decorations: he might. have. been fifty. or my age; handsome. with that white hair and alertly youthful. smoothâ€"shav- eu face. with close. firm lips. and dee - set dark eyes. But if she were apes - lug the truth. .he certainly was ob- livmus of her. "lie is trying to save himself some iinplezisantnees. Of course. he dare not rec nize me.- when-“ [he lttle man who followed you." I said. "He looks like a detective. or “The is." I pushed in chair back a pace. "You don't ooh it."_sald~ I. "Sir." she said madly. owe you a thousand and one unlog‘es. There is my mi you see!" I looked out to this curb. where was a lendeau: two lam md-hoed.â€"es only British lackeystan be. I was be- "Tbath your carriage!" ginning to think her med. The weitu brought the soup. 'fIt‘s a very simple dinner." I apol- ogized. "I don't care about that." “It’s good of you to say it." 3 ob- iservod. "for I should like to make it complex. It's delightful to haveâ€"" "You are puzzled?" "Glow wouldn‘t you be?” I asked.â€" looking her in these delicious eyes. “Yes.” she said. “I perhaps should be. Doubtlem I should not yieldso candy." "You knew I should i" I asked. "I selwted you as a man in. the room most likely to accept the situa- tion." l-Ah' youi" “Yes; I'll be frank; and I saw you “firmâ€"“Ell. a gentleman." “But why?”â€"we had reached the jointâ€"“didn't you go near himi" I pointed to the man willh the orders "Do you wish to knowfâ€"to prevent his arrest." "He would heave been arrested." .I cried. my fork half raised. "if [you had spoken to himi H‘m then I v-â€"-â€"â€" ” .“Yes.” "But if you may be so dangerous to any one you address. why didn‘t you turn to leave?" "-Every person in the room would have been held for examination," “But Mademoiselleâ€"or Madame." "Madame." _ . "Ll am sorry.” I said. continuing my Fneno ” "'But I am a widow." "You are? But you are very young." "'I “11.3 married youngi." “‘Ah. I see. But to return to the (sub- ject. Why don't they arrest you?" “‘They dare notâ€"" - "Yet. you compromise every soul you speak to?" “‘I am sorry for you, sfir." she said; "you will be only detwmemw very brief time.” "Hem, detained!" said I "IYou can paove you never have seen me before; while you areâ€"an Ameri- citn.’ “Yes. But I thoughtâ€"{my accent. my manner don't tell that now." "\I must be frank; they do," she said. I relapsed into silence, lookingmfrom her to the man with orders; from him to the professional little man who had followed and frightened her. I never was in such a predicament. ill (be- lieve no other man ever was; for this was a lady born to the manor. Yes, I was positiveâ€"eve had reached the salad. ".Talk." s'he bade me; "we must Elli! .a deal to each other. orâ€"he’ll n0r . me.’ ’“He?” said I, looking over shoul- der. ".‘Wdiat siba‘ll it be about,â€" the Czar?" _ lI thought she started. “'Oh, the Czar." she sai .â€""no.po'or gentlemanâ€"-" llHels mom‘l. "All emperors are not," she tained. "You know. him?” "Yes; very well.” She certainly was mad, said I, then. She knew the C‘zarâ€"adid she? â€"(N’icho- las. rwho appears so small after the great Nicholas; yet. perhaps, History may [write this one "Nicholas the Great.” fWho, indeed, can tell? But as for my companionéat least she was entertaining, mad or wise! \Vie chat- tered about many things. she keeping me at the distance of some formality. In this odd adventure we were ao- quaintancesâ€"rnsually. “The Czar Nicholas,” said I. at last. "You are then a Russian?” “iAlh perhaps." “But you confess to knowing him. His Majesty?" "Yes, butâ€"if the subject." “You talk admirable French Englishâ€"a bit too precise." "I hope,"â€"we held renoth the coffee --“tha.t I have proven what you have expected." ' .“Yes. more." She looked at me a reached for her gloves. l'”l‘han'ks. no coffee. You are very good. iAL‘n. he is going." (l‘he "he" was the man with the .de- corations, whom her eyes followed out of the door. and on to Piccadilly. . “He has gone," she said, hen vowe sinking. - "ch, plainly," I {remankied of was so obvious. P‘So must I." “I trust I may be your escortâ€" to your door." . “fl‘hanks. no," she said. "You may see me, just to the landau.“ She had risen. and now suddenly sank down in- t0 the chair again. her elbows on the tableâ€"those splendid eyes on me. "I am sorry, believe me; for this will make you trouble. Don’t think me strange. Now_will youâ€"i" "What?" said I.) "Give me your card? your address?" You will believe me if you ever [have seen her. I handed her the card, "John Danvers. Clarges Street." She. with- out glancing iit it. pushed it underher left glove. against the palm of her hand. I rather envied the pasteboard. "And. my dear Madamâ€"may I askâ€" yours “I” "No. it's as well you shouldn't. And will you believe I am sorry for what must happen to you? It will be but a temporary inconvenience. do you un- derstand? The reason I wished your address wasâ€"But. no matter. I can't help it. At least I selected the right solitary diner in this room, and. as well.â€"â€"the wrong one. sir." "Yesâ€"but ii by f“ "I shall be sorry for the sequel." “Believe me." said 1 "I shall be glad." "You're very gallant," said she. ex- tending across the table a slender. a dear. little gloved hand. "It's an revoir!" quoth I. “Aiirevoir,"â€"she assented. may put me in my carriage." I followed to the landau. The man. touching his hat. was already descend- ed. I noted a crest on his buttons. "Thanks, again." said Madame. nod- din . and to the man. "Park Lane.” I ad a vision of her being swallow- you knew I could not resist main- you- will lâ€"let's change 1 and moment and what "You ed up between the yellow lights of I’iccadilly's evening stretch. \Vell, indeed. here was adventure. "Sir," said the waiter over my shoulders. "you forgot the. bill'.‘ "sir." said another voice. the little professional rson. "I regretâ€"" "Eh. what " said I. "I am of Scotland Yard." said he. "I haveâ€"no doubt." I remarked. re- membering my late companion's pre- diction. 'I suppose: well I'm ar- rested." "You know why." 10m ['10 ‘ "Oh. look here." he cried. jesly the Czar is in London. l'riiii‘css. naturally. is watched}! "Hie Ma» The “Eh. the Princess?" “Ibe Princess de 'I‘rebizond." 1 I began to see there had been some. method in her madness. As for my own predicament. l was coolâ€"wonder- fully cool "You mean." I said softly. "you have had information that she had an appointment in this cafe with a Rus- SLan political suspectâ€"whom it iswell . â€"to watch 2" . “Fol-de-rol." said he. “Possibly you don't know I am Bradford." “I have heard of yum". I said. though I hadn't; and I fumbled in my povket for my cardâ€"not one with the Lon- don addressâ€"I carry two setsâ€"but the other with the Madison Avenue house. i "You see, to be explicit, my dear. Mr. Bradford. you've made a mistake. and ‘say a word. The majority of the ills ‘aaid ailments of men and animals f !temporary and will soon yield to the corrective power of nature. if iii-lone. They are the warnings against some excess. indisoreticn or irregular- [am John Danversa broker who made not lately. out of a deal.-â€"-you know what that is.â€"I'll describe all mypast on \Yall Street.-â€"a few thousandsp dollars, not of pounds sterlingâ€"I Wish they were. Mr. Bradford. Since then l've been knOcking about. and my dol- lar becoming lessâ€"-â€"" _ “ Ah. yes." said he, lightly. "Waiter â€"-a hansom." For we had. reâ€"entered the cafe. " At the door. sir.‘_‘ ” You will come. if humâ€"maven." “I can prove it." said I. hotly. can prove it. The consul knows m_e.l Let me write to the offices. Victoria.‘ Street; you know 1 knowâ€"why a thou- sand peisons in London. I am an 'Amâ€" erican." . "I know; I know." he said With a -. smile. “ Does that prevent younbeing a Ituseian political suspect? If his Ma- jesty Nicholas were not in London. you ‘ doubtless wouldn't be bothered. Nowâ€"- there's the cab. I beg you not to make a row, which will be only unpleasant to you.â€"not to me.â€"â€"I can assure you." It was logic. I followed. him. What a blessed mess this adventure had made. It isn’t desirable to be addres- you please. Mir.â€" --be they ever so attractive. “Why. Mr. Bradford." said I at last. “isn't the Princess arrested?" you know; yet "I fancy. of course, the Czar I don't mind telling you; won't allow it." But he would say no more while we roamed through Piccadilly. across Tra- falgar Square; at last to the left of Charing Cross, and drew up in Great Britain Yard, where I felt how serious was my predicament; I remembered decent room, and was allowed to a. note to the Members' Mansions, Victoria Street. 'An hour later the consul himself,-â€"he fortunately was in townâ€"appeared and positively identi- fied me. Yet. although I explained to to bind themselves to be responsible for my good behavior during the Czar's visit. The situation “as particularly exaspemting. I knew as. late in the afternoon. I approached Clarges Street that I should be shadowed during the rest of my stay in England. andâ€" I have repented itâ€"I mentally cursed the PrinceSs de Trebizond. Yet.â€"-to philosophize about the in- consistency of maulâ€"when on my desk I found a. note scented sealed with her crest. I felt at once I was weak. - "Will Mr. Danvers favor the Prin- cess de Trebizondâ€"for whom he al- ready bas done a great favorâ€"by call- ing at No.â€"-Park Lane, 6:30 this even- iing f” Yes, do you know. I hadn't been singed enough; I was ready to be burnt... with my memory of her voice. her eyes. \Vhile I knew I was watch- ed. by Scotland Yardâ€"to state my case to you, 1 went diirectly to Park Lane. 'llhere as I waited, I heard a swish. and the doorway framed lienâ€"an exquisite evening gown showing a dear neck and shoulders. all crowned by that charming head of the great Russian lady. "I am sorry to have bothered you. You did me a great service," said she from the doorway. “Why out of that crowded room did you do meâ€"the honor?" I asked. "I am quick at reading human naâ€" ture," she observed. “Flattery,” said I. "is a woman's weapon; yet there are womenâ€"" "Who are better without it?" "I didn't remark that.” I answered; and then I remembered. “You know how the information was obtained? I have sent my maid away.’ "it would seem.” said 1, "that a lady -â€"a Princessâ€"whom His Majesty the Czar protectsâ€"would not plotâ€"" “It is for one 1 care about,” she said softly. “So I have surmised," I said. And I added. "I would. wislh I were he." 'th’s prettily phrased; yetâ€"you are no .” "No," said I sadly. "Now," she said, “I have thanked you,â€"but indeed not enough. fWill you forgive me if I go to dinner 2" "But not mine 7'” said I. lamely. "Not this time. Mr. Dzinvers." For amoment Ihcld her hand. “Good-bye." "You said 'au revoir.’ before." "I can't tell," said she. laughing gela- tly; I won't say ooquettishly. I was dismissed; I descended into the . gloom of Park Lane. I read the next day. that Nicholas had arrived at Cherbourg; that the Czarina had not suffered from mal-deâ€" mer. Now. do you know. as the day wan- ed I thought of the Princess (in Trebl- zond. \Vill you believe me. I dressed myself most carefully. studying the tails of my frock. and the pose of my cravat. and the immaculateness of my htnt. \I’ould she see me ? I would dare l . "The Princess," said the flunkey. “left this morning for Ostend." I It may be that my two visits were indiscreet; that Ireally dared Scot- land _'1ard. but that's not the worst; this is.-I'll confess to you. though I am_near fortyâ€"I haven't seen her again. ‘ Clinton Ross. ___._..._._,.._ TALLEST IN THE WORLD. A comparison of the average height of men in various trades and professions in different countries brings out the fact that the English. as a nation. are the tallest men in the world. It has been found that the English rofession- al classes, who are the tal est adult males, eves-m 6 feet 91%} fling-hes. Most European nations average for the adult male 5 feet 5 inches. but. the Austrians. Spaniards and Portuguese fall a trifle short of this standard. sed by strange ladies in public cafesll the practice that has been so fostered by skillful manipulation of public sen- timent, but when we see so many far- mers and feeders. says Glen Noble in Breeders' Gazette. constantly dosing and drugging their animals. not only Xunder the plea ’of curing some imagin- ary disease. but of preventing disease. while neglecting the laws of health or feeder on the first appearance of a cold or dullness of appetite in his sta- I 'in a draft or wet bed, or in an over (careful and thorough investigation of ior groom than drugs and physio at such ‘a time. i‘oines‘ will not correct tire evils of too =little exercise. how long suspects might languish. _ Yet. as a matter of fact. I didn’t stables. Do not add to. the discomfort languish; I was housed in a very of the animals by adding nausea and write 'general derangement of the bowels by l I the officers again how it all happened. fresh air and pure water the United States representatives had are nature‘s great 1 E lglect. THE FARM. w man THAN DRUGS. It seems almost idle to speak against common sense, we are moved to are left ity. The careful or intelligent groom ble or herd will usually find the cause in a sudden change of weather or feed. feed. There is not often call for phy~ sic. blister and tonic. or for concoctions of drugs that deramge the stomachs and lessen the power of the system to throw off impurities and restore health. A the cause is worth more to the feeder A‘ change of feed. stopping the draft, or securing dry, well-ven- tilated beds and pens. and especially letting in the sunshine and pure _air. what medicines would often cure only aggravate, wants me cause of the ailment has not been removed. _ While our animals are in Winter quarters they are more liable to get out of condition. We need to give more care now to secure healthâ€"giving conditions. The confinement on dry feed may be followed by indigestion, which is soon succeeded by other eviâ€" dences of disorder. Drugs and medi- feed or too much dry iimpure air. and uncomfortable beds and Change the or more they have and drenching and physio. ‘ feed to something loosening, like the grass and variety been accustomed to, and clean up, let them have all the sunshine and possible. These tOHICS. Throw phy- sio to the dogs. but not to the hogs or other stock to correct your own ne- lntelligent care and .feeding with judgment will secure profit where resort to stimulants and drugs Will inâ€" sure loss. ' ' If there is an epidemic in the neigh- borhood, then is the time to give greatâ€" er attention to cleanliness of pens and stables, of troughs and pails, and. above all. secure the co-operation of sunâ€" light as the great tonic and germ de- stroyer. Germs of hog cholera, tuber- culOsis. etc.. cannot exist in a clean place where Ithe sunlight comes each day. It is M’Drtll more as a preven- tive and germicide than all the cholera cures and patent modicmes ever pro- duced. The majority of our troubles among our flocks and herds come from under their feet or in their feed and water. The great remedy for germ diâ€" senses is to keep the premises. so clean and free from filth. that germs cannot thrive. \Vihere they thrive animals will not. Neglect and lack ‘of appre- ciation of the need of cleanliness are the fruitful muse of many (11589588.. Ainstee. in his book on epidemics, classes typhoid fever. diphtheria and scarlet fever as filiih diseases. We may add to this list hog cholera. etc. It is good business to quit spending money for So-called cures and preven- tives of disease and spend more for shovels, brooms. brushes and muscle to secure thoroughgoing cleanliness. Some of the money wasted on drugs by farmers and stockmen might well} be spent for works on hygiene. philosophy and laws of health. A campaign of education on the laws of health and sources of disease would be worth much to farmers and stockmen. So long as we neglect the laws of health so. long will feeding medicine to prevent disease be as futile as the effort to make pure- breds out of scrubs. _â€" TREATMENT OF CLOVER. I was much surprised not long since as I walked across my cat field to see that the clover is so very think all over it. “critics E. II. Collins. After drilling the field to oats I followed with one bushel of English clover to eight acres. In a day or two it rained and the wea- ther remained damp and showery for several days. so that of this clever. which was fine recleaned seed, practi- cally every bit memo. “is often say one bushel to eight acres is to thin. This out field has one-third too much clover on it. The thought impressed me more than ever that we are won- derfully reckless in sowing clover seed. At the farmer's institutes last winter everybody wanted two questions ans- wered: How to secure a stand of clover, and how to prevent hog cholera. I once Iwatc‘nwl closely the root of a sprouted clover seed trying to peneâ€" trate the hard surface of a wheat field. It grew along the surface about inch and anchored between the small. rough: points of sand and trash. and them turned down a very fine point. trying to form the entrance. Near by I saw another seed that had broken its anchorage and lifted the root. Of course it perished. in fact when sowed on firm seed beds just af- ter frost has left. the seed semis to all perisdi except what rolls under the wheat or into cracks. This spring we thought we would be smart and make a aerial effort to get a stand. “"0 sowed our stall: ground wheat early. the first Week of March, to freeze in as the stalks were. in the way of harrmving. ’l‘hen. ml soon as the ground on our oats and potato wheat was dry enough to bar- row we ran over it with a sharp spikeâ€" â€".._. ‘tmk has-row and sin-etched it We," M" then we sowed clover immediate-up... sum rained and the clever cam _ ‘err nicely both in the scratches and M tween them. covered by the loose dirt The stalk ground wheat has the peanut set of on three. and all are in the suns field. shall like harrowing wheat for sowing clover where we can. It helps the wheat too. The danger is that if we have one of those awfully dry spruigs. when it just will not rain at. all. theclover sowed late is sure it die. But if sowed late at all it had far better be borrowed than to de- pend on cracks The fact is. our fail- ure to get a stand of clover has been largely due to our having worked the humus out of the ground and allowed it. to get hard. Nature has no hard. slick cracked seed beds; she sous broad- cast. but she has a mellow sheltered seed bed. The after treatment of clo- ver. depends on what you “MI. to do. It is a pretty sensitive plant. It will respond 'to petting and succumb to abuse. We mow wheat stubble and weeds and leave it on the ground for a mulch. Then we sometimes allow. a few shoots to run through to link. up the scattered wheat. but do not aim to leave them on. young clover to pee- ture it. The sewind year ou can use it for pasture or buy. or al ow‘. to grow. for fertility. Many do not nmueoizite! that they get less fertility when they divide its efforts between hay and fer- tility. A friend of mine pastures so lightly that it blooms like a meadow. Mid has few. paths through it. This makes the sod very mellow and lively. when plowed under. But one must not es. t to add much to the fertility of s: by growing clover hay and selling i. . M (BREAKING THE ROAD COLTi an breaking a cult to harness. we al- ways prefer to give 'him his first few lessons double. along with a free,sen- sible. met-walking horse. ‘A light front bobsleigh answers well for several les~ sons. lAs BOO-II as the colt has become mde to harness, the bit, etc.. and has oessedto be afraidof the driver or ve- hxicle, and has learned to go along with his mate. like a horse should. we feel. whesitation in hitching hiim singleto a cart. It is safe for this first few times toiuse n rkicking strap, says Folrmers‘ Advocate. being careful that it is prop- erly adjusted about half way between the roots of the tail and coupling and: fastened in the proper position to pre- vent slipping either way. then buckled loosely to the shaits. It is not well to take long drives at first; in fact. this colt should be returned to the stable feeling fresh rather than “nary. 'l‘wo shortdrives in a day are much to be preferred to a long rivearisome trip. It is always had policy to drive- away adie- tanceand then turn around and return‘ by the same road. It is much better to go around a block. a different one_ at eac‘bJ time, however. so far as practica- ble.so that it will not require notions of his own as to where he should go or form Look small to the colt's feet. Sever. under any circumstances allow him to become fool‘sore, because if he does. it will seriously affect his gait by causing him to step short and “tied_up." As scones the toes begin to break up put on light shoes or tips weighing from five to eight ounces each. Heavy shoes are apt to cause the colt to become a thin plate which passes around 11001 about twoâ€"thirds of the 'way to the heel; their advamtage is lightness. while they protect the toes. which is all that is required in‘ colts. Should the heels show soreness. light plates of the ordinary sort should be at once put on. 'A mistake often made is to shun the cult much heavier. in; front. than behind, with the idea of improvmg his action. It is much safer to copy na- ture by endeavoring to keep him bal- anced than to force a condition which! an over-anxious, inexperienced driver may seek to obtain. _______â€"‘â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"' UNCONSCIOUS HUMOR. A ii Englishman’s mid Breakâ€"A (Janie Where Unconscious "lllllol‘ Was Not Appreciat- cd. Debate in the British House of Com- mons is ordinarily conducted in a low. conversational tone. Not long ago a burly military member. who was not accustomed to public speaking, deliver- ed an exoited lizirangue on the exile of the Guards to Gibraltar, and nearly emptied the House by the violence of his shouting. It was like the breath of a roaring blast furnace. and every word scorned to crackle with explosive energy. Mimi- bers in the benches were at first amused by his unnecessary fervor. and final- ly weafi'ied by his noisy. earâ€"splitting declamation. Drawing himself up to his were fairly deafening. he shouted: "If I may be allowed to whisper in the ear of the [.{OVCl‘IllllllllI-"U lie was not allowed to go on. The members burst into a loud guffuw of laughter. which drowned his voice and seriously discunccried him. \l’lieii it was [H‘X‘i't'l‘v'illl from his look of astonishment that he was unconscious of this real cause of alliUSi'llililll. ilii-y laughed again cw.“ more heartily Iliriii they bud laughed before. Unconscious humor is not always upâ€" preciated. M'heii Ili-rr ltickheri, not long a 0. turned cuiiieniptuuusly to- ward t e Util’llilln iiiiiiisiors and cried out. " We hear nothing llpnn the minâ€" isterial benches. nothing but profound silence!" no member moved :i muscle. and nobody laughed; yet whispering in ! thunder l0an were st-zircely more ludiâ€" crous than hi'aiing profound silence. O‘Connell’s most famous irisli hull was delivered :it ii public meeting in London, and passgd unnoticed lllliil (be speech was ill print: ' the. birth-rate In Dublin liaiil (liiiiiiiisli- ;wl at. the rate of five lhOlI‘sllnfl it your . ifur {our yours. and added. solemnly: . “l i'liargi- illi‘ Hi'lli‘dl government lwiili the murder of those twenty thou- sand infants wliu never were born!" No! hing muid Il‘liv't! been more absii rd. yet the": in; not a sign of apprecia- lion from the :iuilieiire that the L'l't'iti’ orator had been unconsciously funny. 1 l 4 l I "2. logo weary and hit himselfâ€"a habit bad to} overcome when once acquired. A lixhis‘. ; iei. full height and speaking in tones which' I!“ QSSé'i‘iizli that“ "w 'Mn M..-â€"â€"â€"............. --.......... , _ m“ ._....â€"- Aw.w~-». 4 "kwâ€"M. < . . “v. f-