or bodies to be kicked did not apply in these days of commercial honour and integrity. It was a very touching editorial, and it caused tears to be shed on the Stock Exchange, the members having had no idea, before reading it, that they were so noble and generous. How, then, was it that the Hot Cross Bun Company did this commendable act when their lawyer took such pains to clear them of all legal liability? The purser of the _Gibrontus_, who is now old and superannuated, could probably tell you if he liked. When the negotiations with Mrs. Keeling had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion by the lawyer of the company, and when that gentleman was rubbing his hands over his easy victory, the good ship _Gibrontus_ was steaming out of the Mersey on her way to New York. The stewards in the grand saloon were busy getting things in order for dinner, when a wan and gaunt passenger spoke to one of them. “Where have you placed me at table?” he asked. “What name, sir?” asked the steward. “Keeling.” The steward looked along the main tables, up one side and down the other, reading the cards, but nowhere did he find the name he was in search of. Then he looked at the small tables, but also without success. “How do you spell it, sir?” he asked the patient passenger. “K-double-e-l-i-n-g.” “Thank you, sir.” Then he looked up and down the four rows of names on the passenger list he held in his hand, but finally shook his head. “I can’t find your name on the passenger list,” he said. “I’ll speak to the purser, sir.” “I wish you would,” replied the passenger in a listless way, as if he had not much interest in the matter. The passenger, whose name was not on the list, waited until the steward returned. “Would you mind stepping into the purser’s room for a moment, sir? I’ll show you the way, sir.” When the passenger was shown into the purser’s room that official said to him, in the urbane manner of pursers— “Might I look at your ticket, sir?” The passenger pulled a long pocket-book from the inside of his coat, opened it, and handed the purser the document it contained. The purser scrutinized it sharply, and then referred to a list he had on the desk before him. “This is very strange,” he said at last. “I never knew such a thing to occur before, although, of course, it is always possible. The people on shore have in some unaccountable manner left your name out of my list. I am sorry you have been put to any inconvenience, sir.” “There has been no inconvenience so far,” said the passenger, “and I trust there will be none. You find the ticket regular, I presume?” “Quite so—quite so,” replied the purser. Then, to the waiting steward, “Give Mr. Keeling any place he prefers at the table which is not already taken. You have Room 18.” “That was what I bought at Liverpool.” “Well, I see you have the room to yourself, and I hope you will find it comfortable. Have you ever crossed with us before, sir? I seem to recollect your face.”