It is a notorious fact that turtles grow very slowly and attain a great age. Curiously enough, neither Mr. Hattori nor Mr. Bellis can tell to what age a snapping or green turtle will live. Mr. Hattori has quite a number of turtles that are known to be from thirty to fifty years of age, while some of the bigger specimens that arrive at Waterloo for the Bellis cellars are, it is believed, twelve to fifteen years old. [Illustration: TURTLES IN MR. BELLIS’S CELLARS IN THE CITY OF LONDON. _From a Photo. by Conolly & Goatam._] [Illustration: SHORT STORIES.] THE AMBASSADOR’S TRUNK. BY E. A. MORPHY, LATE EDITOR OF THE “STRAITS TIMES,” SINGAPORE. The circumstances of this little smuggling incident, though known to several persons in the Far East, have hitherto been hidden, so to speak, under a bushel. In bringing them to the light it should be stated that--for obvious reasons--fictitious names have been given to the individuals chiefly concerned, but the facts are just as stated. Far and away the most distinguished passenger on the big German liner was the homeward bound Japanese Ambassador. He did not look the part, however. He was a squat, unobtrusive little man whose trousers fitted him badly, and whose carriage, when he was hampered by European clothes, suggested an insignificance that was only partially belied by the intelligence of his homely countenance. His appearance reflected no radiant blaze of glory, yet he was returning to his native land crowned with some of the finest diplomatic achievements of the century. This statement is due to his Excellency, but it practically dismisses him from the story, which mainly concerns his trunk--his trunk No. 23, to be precise, for the Ambassador’s trunks were all numbered. There must have been half a hundred of them at least; all the same typical German steel trunks, but distinguished from other less important trunks of the same make insomuch that each one was adorned with two broad painted bands of scarlet, which showed out bravely and effectually prevented their being mixed up with any ordinary baggage. Apart from all other considerations, the wisdom of the Ambassador in thus distinctively marking his own trunks lay in the fact that the process insured their instant recognition by the Japanese Customs officials, by whom they were immune from examination. This last fact was the one which counted for most with Fritz Vogel, steward and trombonist of the liner, as he daily contemplated the mountain of luggage and calculated how many Manila cigars one of those great red-striped trunks would hold. [Illustration: “HE DAILY CONTEMPLATED THE MOUNTAIN OF LUGGAGE AND CALCULATED HOW MANY MANILA CIGARS ONE OF THOSE GREAT RED-STRIPED TRUNKS WOULD HOLD.”]