This magnificent address did not fail of its effect; indeed, it was hardly needed, so deeply were our friends already impressed with our powers.

The old man made a deep obeisance, and murmured the word "Koom, Koom," which I afterward discovered was their royal salute, corresponding to the Bayete of the Zulus, and turning, addressed his followers. These at once proceeded to lay hold of all our goods and chattels, in order to bear them for us, excepting only the guns, which they would on no account touch. They even seized Good's clothes, which were, as the reader may remember, neatly folded up beside him.

He at once made a dive for them, and a loud altercation ensued.

"Let not my lord of the transparent eye and the melting teeth touch them," said the old man. "Surely his slaves shall carry the things."

"But I want to put 'em on!" roared Good, in nervous English.

Umbopa translated.

"Nay, my lord," put in Infadoos, "would my lord cover up his beautiful white legs" (although he was so dark, Good had a singularly white skin) "from the eyes of his servants? Have we offended my lord that he should do such a thing?"

Here I nearly exploded with laughing; and meanwhile, one of the men started on with the garments.

"Damn it!" roared Good, "that black villain has got my trousers."

"Look here, Good," said Sir Henry, "you have appeared in this country in a certain character, and you must live up to it. It will never do for you to put on trousers again.

Henceforth you must live in a flannel shirt, a pair of boots, and an eye-glass."

"Yes," I said, "and with whiskers on one side of your face and not on the other. If you change any of these things they will think that we are impostors. I am very sorry for you, but, seriously, you must do it. If once they begin to suspect us our lives will not be worth a brass farthing."

66

Do you really think so?" said Good gloomily.

"I do indeed. Your 'beautiful white legs' and your eyeglasses are now the feature of our party, and, as Sir Henry says, you must live up to them. Be thankful that you have got your boots on, and that the air is warm."

Good sighed, and said no more, but it took him a fortnight to get accustomed to his attire.-From Rider Haggard's "King Solomon's Mines," copyright by Cassell & Co.

J. B. Guthrie "F. Anstey "

Venus Visits the Hair-Dresser

LEANDER had the house to himself after nightfall, and he remembered that his private door could not be opened now without a special key, and yet he could not help a fancy that some one was groping his way up the staircase outside.

"It's only the boards creaking, or the pipes leaking through," he thought. "I must have the place done up. But I'm as nervous as a cat to-night."

The steps were nearer and nearer; they stopped at the door; there was a loud, commanding blow on the panels. "Who's here at this time of night?" cried Leander aloud. "Come in, if you want to!"

But the door remained shut, and there came another rap, even more imperious.

"I shall go mad if this goes on!" he muttered, and making a desperate rush to the door, threw it wide open, and then staggered back, panic-stricken.

Upon the threshold stood a tall figure in classical drapery. His eyes might have deceived him in the omnibus; but here, in the crude gas-light, he could not be mistaken. It was the statue he had last seen in Rosherwich Gardens-now, in some strange and wondrous way, moving-alive!

With slow and stately tread the statue advanced toward the centre of the hair-dresser's humble sitting-room, and stood there awhile, gazing about her with something of scornful wonder in her calm, cold face. As she turned her head, the wide, deeply cut sockets seemed the home of

shadowy eyes. Her face, her bared arms, and the long straight folds of her robe were all of the same grayish-yellow hue. The boards creaked under her sandalled feet, and Leander felt that he had never heard of a more appallingly massive ghost-if ghost indeed she were.

He had retired step by step before her to the hearthrug, where he now stood shivering, with the fire hot at his back, and his kettle still singing on undismayed. He made no attempt to account for her presence there on any rationalising theory. A statue had suddenly come to life, and chosen to pay him a nocturnal visit; he knew no more than that, except that he would have given worlds for courage to show it the door.

The spectral eyes were bent upon him, as if in expectation that he would begin the conversation, and at last, with a very unmanageable tongue, he managed to observe, "Did you want to see me on-on business, mum?" But the statue only relaxed her lips in a haughty smile.

"For goodness' sake, say something!" he cried wildly, "unless you want me to jump out of winder! What is it you've come about?”

It seemed to him that in some way a veil had lifted from the stone face, leaving it illumined by a strange light, and from the lips came a voice which addressed him in solemn, far-away tones, as of one talking in sleep. He could not have said with certainty that the language was his own, though somehow he understood her perfectly.

"You know me not?" she said, with a kind of sad indifference.

"Well," Leander admitted, as politely as his terror would allow, "you certainly have the advantage of me for the moment, mum.”

"I am Aphrodite the foam-born, the matchless seed of Ægis-bearing Zeus. Many names have I among the sons of men, and many temples, and I sway the hearts of all lovers; and gods-yea, and mortals-have burned for me, a goddess, with an unconsuming, unquenchable fire!"

"Lor!" said Leander. If he had not been so much flurried, he might have found a remark worthier of the occasion, but the announcement that she was a goddess took his breath away; he had quite believed that goddesses were long since "gone out."

"You know wherefore I am come hither?" she said.

"Not at this minute I don't," he replied. "You'll excuse me, but you can't be the statue out of those gardens? You really are so surprisingly like, that I couldn't help asking you."

"I am Aphrodite, and no statue. Long-how long I know not have I lain entranced in slumber in my sea-girt isle of Cyprus, and now again has the living touch of a mortal hand upon one of my sacred images called me from my rest and given me power to animate this marble shell. Some hand has placed this ring upon my finger. Tell me, was it yours?"

Leander was almost reassured. After all, he could forgive her for terrifying him so much, since she had come on so good-natured an errand.

"Quite correct, mum-miss!" He wished he knew the proper form for addressing a goddess. "That ring is my property. I'm sure it's very civil and friendly of you to come all this way about it," and he held out his hand for it eagerly.

"And think you it was for this that I have visited the face of the earth and the haunts of men, and followed your