was without a cloud, and it had turned bitterly cold. Sleighs were dashing up and down the avenue with a cheerful jingle of bells, their occupants swathed in furs from head to foot.

Without a word Mrs. Phanded me the Sunday Tribune. I glanced at the staring headlines. There I saw it set forth in the biggest and blackest of letters, "Revolution in the Sandwich Islands. The Queen Dethroned. The American Flag Hoisted."

All that I had dreaded had been

It had come! brought to pass. Words were inadequate to express our feelings. As Miss Kingsley remarked of the East African natives, we simply sat down and had a "friendly howl" together. The tears streamed down my face, and we wept in unison. After the manner of his kind, the husband looked on helplessly, then discreetly retired to his bedroom. But it was only a burst of passing emotion; and, besides, there was no time to cry. When Mr. P————— joined us at breakfast half an hour later, he found us sad, but calm. After I had had a cup of coffee, I said:

"Order a carriage, and I will drive at once to Mr. N's house."

Half an hour later the carriage was at the door. The streets were like glass, and the horse had to walk at a snail's pace. A drive that ordinarily could have been made in less than an hour required two. When we reached the house at last, with deceit that

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was in reality the last artifice of desperation, I left one of my crutches in the carriage, risked the only neck I had, which, once broken, could not be mended. with silicate, and dragged myself across the slippery side-walk and up the slippery steps. That this was accomplished without fatal results I can only attribute to the fact that the frowning Providence that had been glowering at me steadily for five weeks, was temporarily distracted, probably by some fresh savagery of a Chicago alderman, and so I escaped.

The sunlight streamed cheerfully through the drawing-room windows; it was warm, and there were flowers everywhere about. It was the most reassuring prospect that I had had through a period of protracted and heavy calamity.

Mrs. N was out of town-the champion, the friend, that would have backed me up as valiantly as of old had she been there. Mr. N was at breakfast; but he came amiably into the drawingroom, with his napkin in his hand, as soon as my card was sent in. He divined my errand. He read it emphasised in my determined air. It was of no use to waste words; besides, I had talked of Hawaii so much that I was myself by this time a little tired. I went straight to the point:

"The Queen is dethroned, and now, Mr. N

I am going."

Mr. N― did not look at the crutch which I

clutched, nor at the No. 10 overshoe; but he said, with mild and wholly unexpected acquiescence:

"Well, I suppose you will never be happy until you do. You'd better telegraph to San Francisco.

and engage your passage on the steamer.

The entire interview may have occupied ten minutes. In another hour the wire was sent to the office of the company in San Francisco. I was to leave the following Tuesday, February 7th. And this is where the superior heroism of women is displayed. There was not a man of my acquaintance who did not think that it was the maddest folly to attempt such a journey, on such an errand, alone, on crutches, half-way across the continent and the Pacific. They said it would have been bad enough to go with a maid and a physician in time of peace; but unattended and practically helpless, to venture upon such an expedition, to find the country in nobody knew what state, was sheer idiocy.

The only two approving masculine voices which both, well for me, happened to be decisive ones were those of my good surgeon and my good editor-inchief. The city editor, a tender-hearted Englishman, who had ruled me with a rod of iron, or tried to, in the old reporting days, was especially severe.

"If I had any authority in the matter, you should not stir a foot," he said.

I reminded him that, fortunately for me, he had no authority, and that it was true that there was

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but one foot that I could stir, but that I hoped to make sufficient use of that to compensate for being deprived of the usual complement.

I set out to the C-s on Monday afternoon. The only accident that happened en route was that the horses slipped and both fell down upon the track in front of a rapidly approaching cable-car.

Successive disasters had quite hardened me, and, beyond a feeling of pity for the poor brutes, I surveyed the accident with composure, and in the frame of mind of the heroine of a melodrama who has been abducted, robbed, arrested, imprisoned, survived the loss of friends, fortune, and family, and exclaims truthfully, "Nothing can hurt me now."

The poor horses struggled to their feet again they could; the cable "slowed up," as the motorman would say; and no harm was done. I halted at the office a moment, and it was arranged that I should drive down the next morning and get my credentials, a fresh supply of railway tickets, and a second set of official instructions. Then I drove home, the luggage was ready, and as I said goodnight I remarked in fatuous confidence:

"Everything is done, M; and when I come back from the office in the morning, we will have a long, quiet day together."

A long, quiet day! How my evil genius must have grinned at that vain speech! At ten o'clock I was ready to keep my appointment; but there

was no editor visible, nor were there any evidences that he had arrived. I waited patiently until it struck eleven, twelve, then one, two, three, four! At four o'clock the door opened, and he came in, amiable and absent-minded. I had waited without luncheon, all day.

"The tickets, and the letters, Mr. N————, I began. "You were to be here at ten, and have them for me."

"Tickets letters? Why, bless my soul, I sent them out to the house last night at seven o'clock!" 'They have never been received.”

"Are you certain?”

I had a little habit of forgetfulness of my own, and was past grand-mistress in the art of losing things. I had lost my watch two months before, and had the entire office in a turmoil hunting for it. It was found among some clippings in a pigeon-hole of my desk. I was never believed on such a point as this afterwards; nobody charged me with wilful mendacity, but it was taken for granted that I supposed I knew, but in reality had forgotten.

I suffered for my sins on this occasion. There was no doubt but that the tickets and letters had been delivered, and it was hinted that I would probably find them on my writing-table or in a bureau drawer. The only alternative was to go home and look; there were yet six hours until the train left. Nothing had been seen or heard of any