"We have had to let our butler go for today; one of his family is sick, and we shall have to try to put up with the girl," whispered Juliet, confidentially, as they went in. "We are so fortunate in our servants; we have had the same ones, either in Jim's family or mine, almost always. Entertaining as much as I do, even in my quiet way, you can appreciate what an incalculable blessing it is."

There were indications, upon this, in the figure of Jim, who was going in first with Mrs. Gradshaw on his arm, as if he were about to kick backwards in some alarming way, or even to burst. Nevertheless for the memory of the prevaricator must be a good one Mrs. Juliet was soon mistaking repeatedly even her longtried servant's name.

"Miss Gradshaw is not drinking her wine; won't you see if you can find some Apollinaris water, Susan?" she said. Again, "The terrapin is a little under-flavored: will you just mention it to the cook, Susan ?"

"Jane, ma'am," corrected the woman, in a stolid way, not too respectfully, it must be admitted, but she was secretly resenting the invasion.

At table, in the cozy, rich dining-room, not too large, Juliet romanced about the plates, reconciled discrepancies in the monograms on the silver and linen, and fabricated striking origins for the handsome screen and carven, high-backed chairs. These were a few of the "harmless little efforts" they were to make, to carry out their position. Jim was a person of so little imagination that all this adapting of one's self in detail to the small intimacies of another's household had never once occurred to him as a necessity of the situation, but he could not now retreat, and he endeavored to distract himself from it for the time being, by opening a little flirtation with Miss Gradshaw, who was comely, and did not show herself wholly averse to something of that sort. Whenever anything inconvenient was trenched upon, Mrs. Juliet began to ply Mrs. Gradshaw with more sweet-breads or mushrooms or red-head duck or the delicacies of dessert. That lady was fond of her dinner, and the policy was generally successful. As to Lucy, she plied her with questions upon the current state of society at Minneapolis, asking her who was married, who were the belles, who was giving parties, who leading the germans, and the like. In spite of all this management, however, there was presently an inquiry that fell like a thunderbolt.

"By the way, who is the portrait over the mantel, in your room?" broke out Mrs. Gradshaw, addressing herself to Jim.

"In my room?" murmured Jim, taken extremely aback.

"Yes, the door of the adjoining one where we were stood ajar, and we really could n't resist the temptation of peeping in, to see what the retreat of the lord and master was like. Of course it was wholly inexcusable."

"Do try some of the vegetables," hastily interposed Juliet. "Speaking of vegetables, Mrs. Hedges, who has lately returned from San Francisco, was telling me the other day what a wonderful market they have for vegetables there. Do you know, I want to see San Francisco so much." And so forth, and so forth, and so forth.

But without avail, for though diverted from the subject for the time being, Mrs. Gradshaw kept an air of having something on her mind, and returned to it again.

"Such an unusual face and such an excellent piece of crayon work," she said; "we were both intending to speak to you about it.”

It was, in fact, that of Mrs. Lambert herself. Now, Jim had never been in the chamber thus ascribed to him, and Juliet could not, for the life of her, remember the likeness, nor even whether it was that of a man or a woman. Jim, driven to the necessity of saying something, was about to open his mouth for a reply that would certainly have been their utter ruin, but Juliet snatched the words from him, and manoeuvred for time. Could she have got at the key controlling its electric lighting, she would have suddenly extinguished all the gas. As it was, she meditated tipping over her Lottle of claret, to escape the topic under cover of a calamitous crash. There was a long-drawn moment of suspense, when Miss Lucy let fall a further word or two giving, as Juliet thought, a clew to the sex of the person. Upon no more basis than this,- in which she was mistaken,— she launched out intrepidly:

"Oh, yes, that is Colonel Toplift — in citizen's dress. He is one of the most gentlemanly men and best fellows that ever was. He comes in on my mother's side,-my mother was a Toplift, you know. Jane, I think there is a draught; just draw the screen a little more. I am sure you must feel it, dear Mrs. Gradshaw; these New York dining-rooms are so draughty, do what you will."

"Not at all, I assure you. But the one I was speaking of was not a man's face; it was a woman's."

"Yes, such a really charming expression," echoed the daughter.

"To be sure! How stupid I am! Colonel Toplift was sent to the frame-makers', for repairs, only a few days ago. I could n't think for the moment just which one you meant. It is a Mrs. N-Neufchatel, a cousin of Jim's. There 's the most romantic history connected with her life. I wish I had time to tell it to

exclaimed Mrs. Gradshaw, to the flurried maid. "Go at once and tell your mistress we would like to see her. We must catch a train at Fortysecond street, and have but little time to spare,"

With that, she pushed on into the drawing room, as having a perfect right to do so. She heaved a sigh of relief at seeing there the alleged portrait of Mr. Bang's father, the little Louis XIV., and the rest of the well-known objects of the night before. But, as they entered, the maid who had waited at dinner, and who had heard something of the altercation at the door came up to corroborate the other, and said: "Mrs. Lambert, the lady's name as lives here, is out, ma'am, and Mr. and Mrs. Bangs don't belong to us at all.”

"Oh, this is a gross conspiracy, Lucy," cried the matron, flushing red with indignation. "This girl is probably the one who has stolen your ring, and the family being away from home, she has formed a plot with the other to evade us in this little way, at least until she has a chance to escape. I think I ought to have our driver bring a policeman at once. You stay here, Lucy, to see that she does not leave the house."

"Is it me steal a ring, me that was with the Lambert family for twenty years? Oh, my! Oh, my! but the poor girls do have their characters easy took away."

She gave a hysterical gasp and then a scream that hastened the advent of the elderly Clamptons, who were already coming down.

"Thank heaven! the dear old great aunt and uncle'!" Mrs. Gradshaw exclaimed, at sight of them; "now we shall see."

But Mrs. Clampton, far from being conciliatory, sailed in with the majesty of a seventyfour-gun ship.

"What is the meaning of this invasion of a peaceful home, this brow-beating of our servants," she demanded, full of trepidation, shared by the old gentleman who attended at her side.

66

"I asked only for Mrs. Bang. I presume you have but lately arrived and do not know the circumstances," said Mrs. Gradshaw, bristling in return. My daughter unfortunately lost a valuable ring, when we dined here last night. If Mrs. Bang is not at home, will you kindly look on the dressing-table upstairs, where the ring was left? We discovered the loss only as we were starting for our train, and have driven here on our way."

"We know nothing about Mrs. Bang. You have certainly mistaken the address."

"Mistaken the address? and here is Mr. Bang's portrait before our eyes, and there your own, Juliet's great aunt and uncle!"

"Great aunt and uncle? ha, ha!" hysteri

cally; "we are Mrs. Lambert's father and mother. Lester,"— to her husband,— “perhaps they are burglars and want to rob the house; you must certainly bring a policeman."

"It is a shameless conspiracy to defraud us of our property, Lucy. Who could have suspected it in such a place? Or else they are all mad. But I will not be done out of it so. I insist upon going upstairs. I know just where the ring was left. And do you see that none of them leave."

She made a bold push to go up the stairs, but, being a stout woman, and her way being barred by somebody, this was not effective. There was general hysteria among the women. The suspected servant, pale with fright, was almost fainting. Lucy Gradshaw leaned, weeping, against the wall. A policeman had, somehow, actually been brought, and instigated by the Lambert servants, even went so far as to confront Mrs. Gradshaw in a sort of official way. Mrs. Lambert, now returning, followed almost upon his heels. In the midst of all the confusion, the two visitors recognized her as the heroine of the multifarious adventures of which they had heard; they turned upon each other wild eyes of wonderment, and Mrs. Gradshaw gasped: "The beautiful cousin from Portugal!"

Next Lambert rushed in, and sustained pleasing Lucy Gradshaw in his arms,- by some unconscious mental process selecting her as the most worthy object of sympathy. But he made a vigorous effort, at the same time, to dissipate the misunderstandings that had settled down upon all the group like an obfuscating fog.

"In heaven's name, what does all this mean?"he ejaculated. "Anita,"-to his wife,— "explain it."

"It means, it means," breathed Mrs. Lambert faintly, "that— that they dined here last night, and— and Juliet must have represented this as her own house. I did not think she would do that. And - and some one left a valuable ring. So I drove right down to their flat, after breakfast, to give it to Juliet. She was not at home," addressing the visitors,— "and I left it for her with a very particular note. I thought it might belong to her guests." "Pray, where is this flat?" demanded Mrs. Gradshaw grimly.

The others were all so occupied in offering her profuse apologies, with which by degrees she allowed herself to be somewhat mollified, that she could not for a while procure the address. Why dwell upon the long conversation and comparison of notes about Juliet Scatterbury that followed. Mrs. Gradshaw persisted in her demand for the address, wrote it down, and departed to find it.

"I will go there myself: we have now lost

our train, and there is plenty of time," she said, with the same ominous grimness.

"The deceitful, deceitful, deceitful little minx!" ejaculated old Mrs. Clampton. "What punishment is bad enough for her?"

Mrs. Lambert made a feeble attempt to say something for her quondam friends, but was easily put down.

"A quarter of an hour with Mrs. Gradshaw will be a very good beginning," responded Lambert, his wonted cheerful flow of spirits quite restored at the prospect. So, indeed, it proved. Mrs. Bangs had sallied forth that morning, after an earlier breakfast than Mrs. Lambert. After performing various errands, she bethought her that it would be becoming and polite to go and thank the friend who had so kindly lent her her house the night before; the more so, as the visit was, more likely than not, to be accompanied by an invitation to stay to lunch. She was in the vicinity of Thirty-fourth street, going up Madison Avenue, when she saw the carriage containing the Gradshaws, coming down. Not that she would have noticed it, except that they had had their heads out of the window, their eyes glaringly fixed upon her. They waved her to stop, and drew up close beside the curbstone, where she met them. She suspected some unusual circumstance, of course, from an excited air worn by the inmates, but supposed it would be only some travelers' delay, and, seeing the baggage piled high behind, had no idea of any change of plan that could interfere with the successful consummation of events as they had been left. Mrs. Gradshaw in her eagerness thrust the door ajar. Both women opened their mouths at once, but Juliet, with traditional glibness, got in her effusion first.

"What a delightful surprise! Not off yet? It is such a pleasure to see you again. Now, why will you not postpone your going and come and make us a nice visit? I declare! I am going to tell your coachman to drive around to Thirty-seventh street at once." And she bobbed her pretty head aside as if about to do so.

Good Mrs. Gradshaw fell back, all but in an apoplectic fit, at this unheard-of attempt to renew the imposition.

Lambert took it round to your abode, and we are going after it. Produce it instantly, or get into this carriage and drive with us to where it may be found."

She even laid her hand on Juliet's shoulder to enforce her commands.

"I have n't got it," murmured Juliet feebly, overwhelmed by a torrent so violent that it was useless to think of stemming it; she offered no resistance, but entered the carriage with them.

"This shall go to Minneapolis; this shall be related to your old acquaintances,” resumed the Nemesis, with high and mighty sarcasm; "this is what is called keeping up appearances, I suppose I don't know why I don't expose you to the people in the street." Juliet essayed some other feeble fabrications that she and Jim had had a wager; that some people had different ideas of hospitality from others; that it was a joke, and she had meant to tell them all about it, but all was overborne in Mrs. Gradshaw's indignation.

"Mamma!" expostulated the daughter, from time to time. Her own way would have been a much better "form," to treat this person with dignified silence, and simply keep clear of all such hereafter.

Finally, "You had a good dinner, at any rate," declared Juliet, trying open bravado, but immediately after she broke down, put both hands before her face, begged her accusers not to relate the affair in Minneapolis, and threw herself back among the cushions sobbing.

"Mamma!" exclaimed Lucy Gradshaw, this time with energy— touched, as women will be, at tears. Mrs. Gradshaw was fond of describing the "tongue-lashing" she gave the reprobate, but they rode the rest of the way in silence.

They mounted the stairs to the flat, and found the very particular note, with the ring. Mrs. Gradshaw surveyed with a supercilious air all the economic make-shifts in the place, which, had it had a straightforward mistress, she would have considered a trim and attractive little domicile. Delivering a parting homily in the same severe strain, she withdrew, leaving the culprit in a cowed attitude, overcome with chagrin.

Juliet did not dare to tell her husband, but somehow he heard of it, and though this particular offense was condoned, the Little Dinner was popularly thought to be the starting-point of a rupture in virtue of which Juliet Scatterbury went abroad to reside in the Riviera, where Jim-having in the mean time done better in a pecuniary way-sends her money to maintain existence on her own account.

William Henry Bishop.

WITH

To the Readers of "The Century."

ITH this number of THE CENTURY the magazine begins its thirty-fifth volume and eighteenth year. Again it is our pleasure to record a very large annual growth in the number of readers which the magazine regularly addresses. It is with an increasing sense of responsibility that we contemplate the fact that THE CENTURY possesses to-day, and has for several years possessed, the largest audience that was ever gathered about any periodical of its class printed in the English language. The first edition of the present number is a quarter of a million copies. As each copy has from one reader to six hundred (the latter in a few of the large public reading-rooms), the readers of THE CENTURY throughout the world are estimated at nearly two millions.

In considering the causes which have given THE CENTURY its unprecedented circulation, there is one that should never be forgotten; and that is, the spirit in which it was founded, and in which it was conducted in its early years. Dr. Holland, in assuming the direction of a " people's magazine," determined that it should not shirk living subjects; that the great questions of the day should be treated seriously, earnestly, and continuously in its pages; that while carrying on its purely literary and artistic functions, it should tell as a constant force in the intellectual, moral, and political development of the country. That freedom of opinion, that fair play, and that hospitality to ideas which he insisted upon have been of the highest service to THE CENTURY in its history since he was called away. A notable instance of the possibilities under such a policy is the War Series of THE CENTURY (now concluded as a battle series, but to be continued, from time to time, with short papers on special and picturesque phases of the war), a historical work of such importance as to be in itself a part of our national history- in its relation to the personal career of General Grant, in the wealth of its original testimony with regard to great events, and in its moral effect in helping to bring the

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once warring sections into a better understanding and a higher mutual regard.

The publication of the War Series made possible the publication, as its continuation and culmination, of the authorized Life of Lincoln and History of his times. This work is now entering upon its most interesting stage, having reached the point where the authors themselves became associated with the President, in official and confidential relations, and are therefore able to bring to the elucidation of the story a number of unpublished documents and reminiscences of the highest interest and value.

The generous manner in which the public has greeted such enterprises as these confirms the purpose of THE CENTURY to do all in its power to help make our multitudinous American communities feel and appreciate their national unity and destiny. We have no sympa thy with that false and ill-informed patriotism which flatters its audience by affecting to despise Abroad. There is a long distance between the state of mind of an American who refuses to learn anything from the past or present of that great majority of mankind belonging to the Old World and the state of mind of the American who simply recognizes the development of human freedom and thought which has taken place in the New World-recognizes not only our national faults and dangers, but also every gain made here, and every golden opportunity which is here still open to the race.

A Phase of Political Independence. "DEMOCRACY," explains your American philosopher, "signifies the rule of the people, the whole people. It is distinguished from monarchy, which means the rule of one; and from aristocracy, which denotes the rule of a few." The American philosopher seems to have the dictionary on his side; whether history, ancient or modern, supports his assertion. is matter of dispute. Most of the democracies of history have, as a matter of fact, been governments of the many by the few. Our own ought to be an exception, but is it so?