possibly awaken a storm of dissension and discussion. “We all want money!” said the Marquis gloomily, as he rose from his tumbled bed to take his first breakfast, and read his early morning letters--“And to crush a small and insolent race, whose country is rich in mineral product, is simply the act of squeezing an orange for the necessary juice. Life would be lost, of course, but we are over-populated; and a good war would rid the country of many scamps and vagabonds. Widows and orphans could be provided for by national subscriptions, invested as the Ministry think fit, and paid to applicants after about twenty years’ waiting!” He smiled sardonically. “The gain to ourselves would be incalculable; new wealth, new schemes, new openings for commerce and speculation in every way! And now the King sets himself up as an obstacle to progress! If he were fond of money, we could explain the whole big combine, and offer him a share;--but with a character such as he possesses, I doubt if it would work! With some monarchs whom I could name, it would be perfectly easy. And yet,--for the three years he has been on the throne, he has been passive enough,--asking no questions,--signing such documents as he has been told to sign,--uttering such speeches as have been written for him,--and I was never more shocked and taken aback in my life than yesterday morning, when he declared he had decided to think and act for himself! Simply preposterous! An ordinary man who presumes to think and act for himself is always a danger to the community--but a king! Good Heavens! We should have the old feudal system back again.” He sipped his coffee leisurely, and opened a few letters; there were none of very pressing importance. He was just about to glance through the morning’s newspaper, when his man-servant entered bearing a note marked ‘Private and Immediate.’ He recognized the handwriting of David Jost. “Anyone waiting for an answer?” he enquired. “No, Excellency.” The man retired. The Marquis broke the large splotchy seal bearing the coat-of-arms which Jost affected, but to which he had no more right than the man in the moon, and read what seemed to him more inexplicable than the most confusing conundrum ever invented. “MY DEAR MARQUIS,--I received your confidential messenger last night, and explained the entire situation. He left for Moscow this morning, but will warn us of any further developments. Sorry matters look so grave for you. Should like a few minutes private chat when you can spare the time.-- “Yours truly, DAVID JOST.” Over and over again the Marquis read this brief note, staring at its every word and utterly unable to understand its meaning. “What in the world is the fellow driving at!” he exclaimed angrily--“‘My messenger’! ‘Explained the entire situation’! The devil! ‘Left for Moscow’! Upon my soul, this is maddening!” And he rang the bell sharply. “Who brought this note?” he asked, as his servant entered. “Mr. Jost’s own man, Excellency.”