"Oh, you can't?" she said, laughing hysterically. "I can, though, well enough. You like that hideous, villainous-looking woman better than your own true wife. I would say nothing if she were at any rate beautiful; but she has a vile face, a hideous face, and looks wicked and murderous, and everything that is bad!" "Lili-Tsee, what do you mean?" asked her husband, getting exasperated in his turn. "That portrait is the living image of my poor dead father. I found it in the street the other day, and put it in your vase for safety." Lili-Tsee's eyes flashed with indignation at this apparently barefaced lie. "Hear him!" she almost screamed. "He wants to tell me now that I do not know a woman's face from a man's." Kiki-Tsum was wild with indignation, and a quarrel began in good earnest. The street-door was a little way open, and the loud, angry words attracted the notice of a _bonze_ (one of the Japanese priests) who happened to be passing. "My children," he said, putting his head in at the door, "why this unseemly anger, why this dispute?" "Father," said Kiki-Tsum, "my wife is mad." "All women are so, my son, more or less," interrupted the holy _bonze_. "You were wrong to expect perfection, and must abide by your bargain now. It is no use getting angry, all wives are trials." "But what she says is a lie." "It is not, father," exclaimed Lili-Tsee. "My husband has the portrait of a woman, and I found it hidden in my rose-leaf vase." "I swear that I have no portrait but that of my poor dead father," explained the aggrieved husband. "My children, my children," said the holy _bonze_, majestically, "show me the portraits." "Here it is; there is only one, but it is one too many," said Lili-Tsee, sarcastically. The _bonze_ took the glass and looked at it earnestly. He then bowed low before it, and in an altered tone said: "My children, settle your quarrel and live peaceably together. You are both in the wrong. This portrait is that of a saintly and venerable _bonze_. I know not how you could mistake so holy a face. I must take it from you and place it amongst the precious relics of our church." So saying, the _bonze_ lifted his hands to bless the husband and wife, and then went slowly away, carrying with him the glass which had wrought such mischief. END. [Illustration] * * * * * _Handcuffs._ WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY INSPECTOR MAURICE MOSER, _Late of the Criminal Investigation Department, Great Scotland Yard._ The ordinary connection of ideas between handcuffs and policemen does not need very acute mental powers to grasp, but there is a further connection, a philological one, which is only evident at first sight to those who have made a small acquaintance with the science of words. The word "handcuff" is a popular corruption of the Anglo-Saxon "handcop," _i.e._, that which "cops" or "catches" the hands.