took out a chisel and grimly felt its edge
with his thumb.

* * * * *

It was admitted on all hands that His Highness never made a better
speech in his life than on the occasion of the opening of that
exhibition. He touched lightly on the country's unexampled prosperity,
of which the marvelous collection within those walls was an indication.
He alluded to the general contentment that reigned among the classes to
whose handiwork was due the splendid examples of human skill there
exhibited. His Highness was thankful that peace and contentment reigned
over the happy land and he hoped they would long continue so to reign.
Then there were a good many light touches of humor in the discourse--
touches that are so pleasing when they come from people in high places.
In fact, the chairman said at the club afterwards (confidentially, of
course) that the man who wrote His Highness's speeches had in that case
quite outdone himself.

* * * * *

The papers had very full accounts of the opening of the exhibition next
morning, and perhaps because these graphic articles occupied so much
space, there was so little room for the announcement about the man who
committed suicide. The papers did not say where the body was found,
except that it was near the exhibition buildings, and His Highness
never knew that he made that excellent speech directly over the body of
a dead man.

RINGAMY'S CONVERT.

Mr. Johnson Ringamy, the author, sat in his library gazing idly out of
the window. The view was very pleasant, and the early morning sun
brought out in strong relief the fresh greenness of the trees that now
had on their early spring suits of foliage. Mr. Ringamy had been a busy
man, but now, if he cared to take life easy, he might do so, for few
books had had the tremendous success of his latest work. Mr. Ringamy
was thinking about this, when the door opened, and a tall,
intellectual-looking young man entered from the study that communicated
with the library. He placed on the table the bunch of letters he had in
his hand, and, drawing up a chair, opened a blank notebook that had,
between the leaves, a lead pencil sharpened at both ends.

"Good morning, Mr. Scriver," said the author, also hitching up his
chair towards the table. He sighed as he did so, for the fair spring
prospect from the library window was much more attractive than the task
of answering an extensive correspondence