aps on this account that the new King, Rupert, had erected for the
alleged convenience of his guests of the Press a series of large
temporary hotels, such as were in evidence at the St. Louis Exposition.
Here each guest was given a room to himself, somewhat after the nature of
the cribs in a Rowton house. From my first night in it I am able to
speak from experience of the sufferings of a prisoner of the third class.
I am, however, bound to say that the dining and reception rooms were,
though uncomfortably plain, adequate for temporary use. Happily we shall
not have to endure many more meals here, as to-morrow we all dine with
the King in the State House; and as the cuisine is under the control of
that _cordon bleu_, Gaston de Faux Pas, who so long controlled the
gastronomic (we might almost say Gastonomic) destinies of the Rois des
Diamants in the Place Vendome, we may, I think, look forward to not going
to bed hungry. Indeed, the anticipations formed from a survey of our
meagre sleeping accommodation were not realized at dinnertime to-night.
To our intense astonishment, an excellent dinner was served, though, to
be sure, the cold dishes predominated (a thing I always find bad for
one's liver). Just as we were finishing, the King (nominated) came
amongst us in quite an informal way, and, having bidden us a hearty
welcome, asked that we should drink a glass of wine together. This we
did in an excellent (if rather sweet) glass of Cliquot '93. King Rupert
(nominated) then asked us to resume our seats. He walked between the
tables, now and again recognizing some journalistic friend whom he had
met early in life in his days of adventure. The men spoken to seemed
vastly pleased--with themselves probably. Pretty bad form of them, I
call it! For myself, I was glad I had not previously met him in the same
casual way, as it saved me from what I should have felt a
humiliation--the being patronized in that public way by a prospective
King who had not (in a Court sense) been born. The writer, who is by
profession a barrister-at-law, is satisfied at being himself a county
gentleman and heir to an historic estate in the ancient county of Salop,
which can boast a larger population than the Land of the Blue Mountains.

EDITORIAL NOTE.--We must ask our readers to pardon the report in
yesterday's paper sent from Plazac. The writer was not on our regular
staff, but asked to be allowed to write the report, as he was a kinsman
of