ain English minds," said
the Queen, scanning the paper severely. "Instance this."

Slowly she read the opening lines of a market report:

"The bulls received a solar-plexus blow yesterday when it was reported
that the C. R. and L. directors had resigned in a body owing to the
extensive strikes."

"What words are these?" Elizabeth exclaimed in a despairing tone. "What
is a plexus of the sun, and how doth it blow on a bull?"

Rebecca jumped up and brought her head close to the Queen's, peering
over the paper which she held. She read and reread the paragraph in
question and finally resumed her chair, slowly shaking her head.

"I guess that's the Wall Street talk I've heerd tell of," she said. "I
don't understand that kind myself."

"Why, Sir Walter," Elizabeth exclaimed, triumphantly, "here have we two
separate tribes at least, each speaking its proper dialect. Can it be
that you have heard no word of these before?"

"Even so, my liege," was the dejected reply, "the tribes of the North
are known to no man as yet."

"Passing strange!" mused the Queen, running a critical eye over the
printed page before her. "Your talk, and that of others, hath been only
of wild, copper-colored savages, living in rude huts and wearing only
skins. Sure such as these have not types and printing-presses! What is
this book, Lady Rebecca?"

"That's a newspaper, ma'am. Don't you have 'em in London? They come out
every day an' people pay a penny apiece fer 'em."

Elizabeth flashed a stern glance upon her visitor.

"'Twere best not go too far, my lady," she said, harshly. "E'en
traveller's tales must in some sort ape the truth at least. Now,
prithee, to what end is such a pamphlet printed--why, 'tis endless!"

"I'll shet right up, Mis' Tudor, ef ye think I'm tellin' wrong stories,"
said Rebecca, indignantly. "Thet's a newspaper an' thet's all there is
to it."

Elizabeth evaded the issue and turned now to the illustrations.

"These be quaint-wondrous images!" she said. "Pray, what now may this
be? Some fantastic reverie limned for amusement?"

Rebecca jumped up again and peered over the Queen's shoulder.

"Why, thet's a picture of the troops marchin' down Broadway, in New
York City. See, it's all explained in print underneath it."

"But these men carry arquebuses and wear a livery. And these temples--to
what false gods are they set up?"

"False gods!" exclaimed Rebecca. "Bless your simple heart, those ain't
temples. They're jest