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'''Leviticus 6:7 LORD for the sin he has committed: a female lamb or goat from the flock as a sin offering. And the priest will make atonement for him concerning his sin.

If, however, he cannot afford a lamb, he may bring to the LORD as restitution for his sin two turtledoves or two young pigeons—one as a sin offering and the other as a burnt offering. He is to bring them to the priest, who shall first present the one for the sin offering. He is to twist its head at the front of its neck without severing it; then he is to sprinkle some of the blood of the sin offering on the side of the altar, while the rest of the blood is drained out at the base of the altar. It is a sin offering. And the priest must prepare the second bird as a burnt offering according to the ordinance. In this way the priest will make atonement for him for the sin he has committed, and he will be forgiven.

But if he cannot afford two turtledoves or two young pigeons, he may bring a tenth of an ephah of fine flour as a sin offering. He must not put olive oil or frankincense on it, because it is a sin offering. He is to bring it to the priest, who shall take a handful from it as a memorial portion and burn it on the altar atop the offerings made by fire to the LORD; it is a sin offering. In this way the priest will make atonement for him for any of these sins he has committed, and he will be forgiven. The remainder will belong to the priest, like the grain offering.”

Laws for Guilt Offerings (Leviticus 6:1–7; Leviticus 7:1–10)

Then the LORD said to Moses, “If someone acts unfaithfully and sins unintentionally against any of the LORD’s holy things, he must bring his guilt offering to the LORD: an unblemished ram from the flock, of proper value in silver shekels according to the sanctuary shekel; it is a guilt offering. Regarding any holy thing he has harmed, he must make restitution by adding a fifth of its value to it and giving it to the priest, who will make atonement on his behalf with the ram as a guilt offering, and he will be forgiven.

If someone sins and violates any of the LORD’s commandments even though he was unaware, he is guilty and shall bear his punishment. He is to bring to the priest an unblemished ram of proper value from the flock as a guilt offering. Then the priest will make atonement on his behalf for the wrong he has committed in ignorance, and he will be forgiven. It is a guilt offering; he was certainly guilty before the LORD.” Sins Requiring a Guilt Offering (Leviticus 5:14–19; Leviticus 7:1–10)

And the LORD said to Moses, “If someone sins and acts unfaithfully against the LORD by deceiving his neighbor in regard to a deposit or security entrusted to him or stolen, or if he extorts his neighbor or finds lost property and lies about it and swears falsely, or if he commits any such sin that a man might commit— once he has sinned and becomes guilty, he must return what he has stolen or taken by extortion, or the deposit entrusted to him, or the lost property he found, or anything else about which he has sworn falsely.

He must make restitution in full, add a fifth of the value, and pay it to the owner on the day he acknowledges his guilt. Then he must bring to the priest his guilt offering to the LORD: an unblemished ram of proper value from the flock. In this way the priest will make atonement for him before the LORD, and


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. To be perfectly frank, my dear—I beg your pardon, Your Highness…

. I prefer the status of a friend.

. The familiarity will not surprise you. You are one of the women whom a man feels he has known all his life, when he speaks to her for the first time. I am neither innocent nor confiding, as you may judge, yet I feel that I have not a secret in the world which I could keep from you. You are a benevolent fairy, enlivening what you touch; it is a gift. I have never known until this moment what it is to be alive.

. Until this moment? Then I fear that at this moment you are about to become a sadly disappointed man.

. How so?

. Because you will find that ignorance is a prerequisite to enjoyment. However, that was probably not what you were going to say.

. No, I forget… Ah, yes! I remember. It was a roundabout way of telling you something else.

. Let us begin with the roundabout way.

. Before we became so intimate, when as yet I admired you at a distance, I imagined Herr Rosmer to be—how shall I express it so as not to give offense? 77


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. An ideal creature, a Knight of the Swan, a legendary hero. Now you feel that he is a very ordinary person, like everybody else. Naturally, you have no means of comparison; you did not know my husband.

. You are adorable!

. But speaking of the gentleman was only a roundabout way.

. Of telling you that I love you!

. Doubtless you may be justified in fancying yourself a Lohengrin, since you have rescued me from an embarrassing predicament. However, if I were in your place, I think I should delay my declaration of love just a little.

. Why delay?

. Because there is no probability of your being pleased with the answer. If favorable, you will consider it gratitude; if unfavorable, the reverse.

. All I ask is that it be sincere.

. Sincere? When your entire conversation is a tissue of stock gallantries, which apparently you consider obligatory, although in my case they are somewhat bold.

. Bold? Is that intended as a rebuke?

. On the contrary, it is intended as friendly advice. One accepts anything from a friend.

. Why not accept it from a lover? Love is stronger than friendship. However, your theory interests me.

. No, not from a lover whose love cannot be returned. It is so easy to satisfy a friend.

. Unless only love can satisfy a friend.

. If you flatter yourself that my love is to become the guarantor of my friendship, you may as well understand at once that my heart is insolvent, and you are at


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the following morning Katherine and Lenox were sitting on the terrace of the Villa Marguerite. Something in the nature of a friendship was springing up between them, despite the difference in age. But for Lenox, Katherine would have found life at the Villa Marguerite quite intolerable. The Kettering case was the topic of the moment. Lady Tamplin frankly exploited her guest's connection with the affair for all it was worth. The most persistent rebuffs that Katherine could administer quite failed to pierce Lady Tamplin's self-esteem. Lenox adopted a detached attitude, seemingly amused at her mother's manoeuvres, and yet with a sympathetic understanding of Katherin'’s feelings. The situation was not helped by Chubby, whose naïve delight was unquenchable, and who introduced Katherine to all and sundry as:

"This is Miss Grey. You know that Blue Train business? She was in it up to the ears! Had a long talk with Ruth Kettering a few hours before the murder! Bit of luck for her, eh?"

A few remarks of this kind had provoked Katherine that morning to an unusually tart rejoinder, and when they were alone together Lenox observed in her slow drawl:

"Not used to exploitation, are you? You have a lot to learn, Katherine."


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 "I am sorry I lost my temper. I don't, as a rule."

"It is about time you learnt to blow off steam. Chubby is only an ass; there is no harm in him. Mother, of course, is trying, but you can lose your temper with her until Kingdom come, and it won't make any impression. She will open large, sad blue eyes at you and not care a bit."

Katherine made no reply to this filial observation, and Lenox presently went on:

"I am rather like Chubby. I delight in a good murder, and besideswell, knowing Derek makes a difference."

Katherine nodded.

"So you lunched with him yesterday," pursued Lenox reflectively. "Do you like him, Katherine?"

Katherine considered for a minute or two.

"I don't know," she said very slowly.

"He is very attractive."

"Yes, he is attractive."

"What don't you like about him?"

Katherine did not reply to the question, or at any rate not directly. "He spoke of his wife's death," she said. "He said he would not pretend that it had been anything but a bit of most marvellous luck for him."

"And that shocked you, I suppose," said Lenox. She paused, and then added in rather a queer tone of voice: "He likes you, Katherine."

"He gave me a very good lunch," said Katherine, smiling.

Lenox refused to be side-tracked.

"I saw it the night he came here," she said thoughtfully. "The way he looked at you; and you are not his


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 liberty to accept my insolvency in every sense of the word, my dear friend.

. Highness!…

. Is the concert over? Is the audience asleep, or is it still yawning in ecstasy?

. Your disappearance has occasioned most unfavorable comment.

. Wilf's music is depressing; it recalls so much. In leaving, I fancied that I was paying a sincere tribute to its value.

. The Comte was obliged to follow in your footsteps.

. Far from it. The Comte had already made good his retreat.

. The entire audience noticed your disappearance, as it were, in concert. You should have heard what they said!

. How foolish of them to say it before you! They might have known that you would have been sure to repeat it.

. Your Highness, they supposed I was asleep.

. Probably you were, and you dreamed it. Certainly the music was propitious.

. It is useless to argue. After this, silence is golden in my sight. No matter what I may hear, I shall remain silent—silent as the moral sense of Your Highness.

. Comte, the Baroness has promised us. Return to the concert and set these idle rumors at rest.

. Shall we return together? It is nearly over. We shall be in time for the applause.

. The coincidence would be too striking.


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 No, leave me here; I must recuperate, gazing up into the heavens on this beautiful night, which is all tenderness.

. Under no circumstances expose yourself upon the balcony. The night is cold…

. Perhaps, for these lands where the orange-flower blooms, as Mignon sings, but to me it seems a beautiful midsummer evening, after the icy drafts of the Kingdom of Suavia.—Why! I hear music… It cannot be the concert; it floats in from outside, from a distance. It is a waltz, a delicious waltz!

. One of those gypsy orchestras which infest the neighborhood. There is an all-night restaurant near by, just at the rear of the villa, a resort of the most villainous character. Carnival is coming on, so masked balls are in season. I assure you that they are interesting, in fact unique. One meets the entire Almanac de Gotha of crime at them.

. Is it possible? You alarm me.

. Do you think that perhaps we might arrange to be present?

. Highness! I am shocked… The idea occurred to you upon the spur of the moment, as the Comte spoke.

. I advise against it. If one goes alone, it is dangerous; if the police are along, the thing loses its attraction. The dance does not seem the same.

. Silence!

. Do you hear anything?

. Don't you see?

. Yes, in the garden… My secretary, Chantel.

. But who is she? Who is she? One of the guests?

. I think not. No… I cannot make out from here.


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. Baroness, your lorgnettes… One of the maids. Amusing, is it not? Ha, ha! Did you hear that?

. Yes, a kiss. There can be no doubt of it.

. A kiss? Your Highness, retire!

. Enough… Your secretary is the only person who is enjoying himself this evening. It is the same everywhere, in society as in life. The official entertainment is staged in the drawing-room, where the boredom is polite; the real entertainment goes on behind the scenes.

. Why exchange it for the public view? Permit me to remain at your side; my happiness is complete. I shall not speak to you, but together we shall gaze into the sky, we shall listen to the mingling of music and kisses, while our souls blend in the dark silences and become mute as the tears well up in our eyes in a transport of love so tremendous that it unites in its tremor the fulness of life and the fleeting premonition of death.

. Poetic, is it not? Why, there are tears in your eyes! Are you much affected?

. Do you doubt it?

. No, no. Let us withdraw from the balcony and return to the concert. You alarm me.

. I do? In what way?

. I feel that I am becoming affected myself, without knowing why. I could easily cry, yet I could not tell you the reason. I am unwilling that my life should be influenced by this night of faultless blue and the thrum of music afar off, or determined by a few idle words, which, if I had heard them in broad daylight, in the midst of company, I should have laughed at—as I laugh at them now.

. Your Highness! Helena!

. Sir!

. Don't be alarmed. Baroness. The


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 usual typejust the opposite. Well, I suppose it is like religionyou get it at a certain age."

"Mademoiselle is wanted at the telephone," said Mane, appearing at the window of the salon. "M. Hercule Poirot desires to speak with her."

"More blood and thunder. Go on, Katherine; go and dally with your detective."

M. Hercule Poirot's voice came neat and precise in its intonation to Katherine's ear.

"That is Mademoiselle Grey who speaks? Bon. Mademoiselle, I have a word for you from M. Van Aldin, the father of Madame Kettering. He wishes very much to speak with you, either at the Villa Marguerite or at his hotel, whichever you prefer."

Katherine reflected for a moment, but she decided that for Van Aldin to come to the Villa Marguerite would be both painful and unnecessary. Lady Tamplin would have hailed his advent with far too much delight. She never lost a chance of cultivating millionaires. She told Poirot that she would much rather come to Nice.

"Excellent, Mademoiselle. I will call for you myself in an auto. Shall we say in about three-quarters of an hour?"

Punctually to the moment Poirot appeared. Katherine was waiting for him, and they drove off at once.

"Well, Mademoiselle, how goes it?"

She looked at his twinkling eyes, and was confirmed in her first impression that there was something very attractive about M. Hercule Poirot.

"This is our own Roman Policier, is it not?" said Poirot. "I made you the promise that we should study it together. And me, I always keep my promises."


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 "You are too kind," murmured Katherine.

"Ah, you mock yourself at me; but do you want to hear the developments of the case, or do you not?"

Katherine admitted that she did, and Poirot proceeded to sketch for her a thumbnail portrait of the Comte de la Roche.

"You think he killed her," said Katherine thoughtfully.

"That is the theory," said Poirot guardedly.

"Do you yourself believe that?"

"I did not say so. And you, Mademoiselle, what do think?"

Katherine shook her head.

"How should I know? I don’t know anything about those things, but I should say that"

"Yes," said Poirot encouragingly.

"Wellfrom what you say the Count does not sound the kind of man who would actually kill anybody."

"Ah! Very good," cried Poirot, "you agree with me, that is just what I have said." He looked at her sharply. "But tell me, you have met Mr. Derek Kettering?"

"I met him at Lady Tamplin's, and I lunched with him yesterday."

"A mauvais sujet," said Poirot, shaking his head; “but les femmesthey like that, eh?"

He twinkled at Katherine and she laughed.

"He is the kind of man one would notice anywhere," continued Poirot. "Doubtless you observed him on the Blue Train?"

"Yes, I noticed him."

"In the restaurant car?"


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 Comte is a gentleman; he kisses my hand—as Princess of Suavia. The Comte is one of my very warm friends.

. Ah, M. de Chantel! Is the concert over? Have you come from the hall?

. Yes, from the hall—from that direction. Although I believe there is more to come…

. Your enthusiasm carries you away. What divine music! I am impatient to hear your opinion, M. de Chantel.

. My opinion? I should prefer to hear that of Your Highness first. Upon finding you here, my impression was that you were as thoroughly bored as the Comte.

. Bored? Never! I was highly enthusiastic; in fact, I was nervous. What wonderful music!

. Sublime! It is really.

. And so ineffably suggestive. One experiences the most extraordinary sensations as one listens. For a moment I was transported into the moonlight, into the bosom of a beautiful garden, heavy with the scent of violets; the music sank to a rippling murmur of lovers' kisses who, as it seemed, were strolling in pairs through the garden, in embraces so tight that their bodies cast but a single shadow upon the ground, symbolic at that instant of the fusion of their souls.

. Yes, indeed! The music is extraordinarily suggestive.

. [Aside to ] The Princess is enjoying herself at your expense. Be careful! She knows all.

. All?

. All that we could see from here.

. Oh! Your Highness…

. I congratulate you, M. de Chantel. A


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 "No. I didn't notice him at meals at all. I only saw him oncegoing into his wife's compartment."

Poirot nodded. "A strange business," he murmured. "I believe you said you were awake, Mademoiselle, and looked out of your window at Lyons? You saw no tall dark man such as the Comte de la Roche leave the train?"

Katherine shook her head. "I don't think I saw any one at all," she said. "There was a youngish lad in a cap and overcoat who got out, but I don't think he was leaving the train, only walking up and down the platform. There was a fat Frenchman with a beard, in pyjamas and an overcoat, who wanted a cup of coffee. Otherwise, I think there were only the train attendants."

Poirot nodded his head several times. "It is like this, you see," he confided, "the Comte de la Roche has an alibi. An alibi, it is a very pestilential thing, and always open to the gravest suspicion. But here we are!"

They went straight up to Van Aidin's suite, where they found Knighton. Poirot introduced him to Katherine. After a few commonplaces had been exchanged, Knighton said, "I will tell Mr. Van Aldin that Miss Grey is here."

He went through a second door into an adjoining room. There was a low murmur of voices, and then Van Aldin came into the room and advanced towards Katherine with outstretched hand, giving her at the same time a shrewd and penetrating glance.

"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Grey," he said simply. "I have been wanting very badly to hear what you can tell me about Ruth."


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 The quiet simplicity of the millionaire's manner appealed to Katherine strongly. She felt herself in the presence of a very genuine grief, the more real for its absence of outward sign.

He drew forward a chair.

"Sit here, will you, and just tell me all about it."

Poirot and Knighton retired discreetly into the other room, and Katherine and Van Aldin were left alone together. She found no difficulty in her task. Quite simply and naturally she related her conversation with Ruth Kettering, word for word as nearly as she could. He listened in silence, leaning back in his chair, with one hand shading his eyes. When she had finished he said quietly:

"Thank you, my dear."

They both sat silent for a minute or two. Katherine felt that words of sympathy would be out of place. When the millionaire spoke, it was in a different tone:

"I am very grateful to you. Miss Grey. I think you did something to ease my poor Ruth's mind in the last hours of her life. Now I want to ask you something. You knowM. Poirot will have told youabout the scoundrel that my poor girl had got herself mixed up with. He was the man of whom she spoke to youthe man she was going to meet. In your judgment do you think she might have changed her mind after her conversation with you? Do you think she meant to go back on her word?"

"I can't honestly tell you. She had certainly come to some decision, and seemed more cheerful in consequence of it."

"She gave you no idea where she intended to


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 meet the skunk—whether in Paris or at Hyères?"

Katherine shook her head.

"She said nothing as to that."

"Ah!" said Van Aldin thoughtfully, "and that is the important point. Well, time will show."

He got up and opened the door of the adjoining room. Poirot and Knighton came back.

Katherine declined the millionaire's invitation to lunch, and Knighton went down with her and saw her into the waiting car. He returned to find Poirot and Van Aldin deep in conversation.

"If we only knew," said the millionaire thoughtfully, "what decision Ruth came to. It might have been any of half a dozen. She might have meant to leave the train at Paris and cable to me. She may have meant to have gone on to the south of France and have an explanation with the Count there. We are in the dark—absolutely in the dark. But we have the maid's word for it that she was both startled and dismayed at the Count's appearance at the station in Paris. That was clearly not part of the preconceived plan. You agree with me, Knighton?"

The secretary started. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Van Aldin. I was not listening."

"Day-dreaming, eh?" said Van Aldin. "That's not like you. I believe that girl has bowled you over."

Knighton blushed.

"She is a remarkably nice girl," said Van Aldin thoughtfully, "very nice. Did you happen to notice her eyes?"

"Any man," said Knighton, "would be bound to notice her eyes."


text: The Mystery of the Blue Train/Chapter 20


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 dark garden is infinitely preferable to a lighted salon, and a pretty chambermaid to a respectable lady, who is more cautious. As for myself, I prefer kisses to all the music in the world, although I restrain my impulses so not to shock the Baroness. Only vulgar persons take their art at second hand, manufactured for them by professionals, whose heart is not in it. Superior spirits live their art—they wish it free. Yours is a superior spirit, M. de Chantel, and you deserve credit; I congratulate you with all my heart. Comte, shall we return to the concert?—although classic music will seem rather cold after this natural music, which has drifted in at the window.

. I shall not be cold while I am with you in any case. Life with you is all art and all loveliness.

. Life with me is all happiness. Come, let us return to the concert.

. M. de Chantel, I appeal to your sympathy. Was ever woman in a more humiliating position?

. Oh, my dear Baroness! I am not a courtier; I was not brought up among princes and noblemen. I am low-born; I have seen everything, I have endured everything. I have been hungry, not only myself, but my mother has been hungry, my sisters and brothers, all those who were near and dear to me. You do not know what that means, my dear Baroness, and I hope you may never know. Of humiliations, of the times I have been obliged to be false to my conscience, to my innermost beliefs, I say nothing. And apart from what I have suffered, I have seen a great deal. Misery and degradation have no secrets from me. I have seen factories and workshops and mines where human beings are herded together like beasts to earn their deaths, for it would be irony to pretend that they were earning a liv-


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 ing; I have seen jails constructed to imprison those who are so wanting in resignation that they rise, rather than submit to the blind injustice and cruelty of their fate; I have seen asylums and hospitals which gather up those who fall by the wayside, who do resign themselves, and believe me there is small charity in them, and no mercy. I have seen—well, a great many other things, the very existence of which you cannot even imagine at the Court of Suavia. I have seen these things, I know these things, by experience, as a man. So you will not be surprised if I reserve all my sympathy for persons whose situations are somewhat more distressing than yours, which you might very well alleviate if you cared to do so, having everything that you wish in this world, besides looking forward, no doubt, to a glorious reward in the next. Excuse me, my dear Baroness.

. Are you laughing at me? The world is out of joint. I scent dissolution in the air!

. A little more dissolution, my dear Baroness, and we may be able to breathe. The atmosphere is surcharged already.

. I left the room so as to avoid a scene; the exhibition has become a public scandal.

. He has not allowed her one moment to herself during the entire evening.

. The unpleasant part of it is that everybody is sorry for me. If the Comte were my husband, I should not mind; then I could afford to be independent. But now all my friends think that the Princess is forestalling my wedding. I am not easy about it myself. You know how vain men are; a princess is not to be had every day. I understand that she has accepted money from the Comte.

. Plenty of it, you may be certain.


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 for the King, and the two have not gone forth, as being now afraid, and (refusing?) to my face I send to the palace (or capital), and Azru (Aziru?) is laying snares, gathering soldiers: has not Abdasherah marched with whatever he had? As I am told they will send friendly messages to my Lord, but thou wilt say “Why do ye send friendly messages to me when you refuse my message?”

“I have been afraid of the snare. Azaru (is) like Lo! I am strong through the King The sons of Abdasherah—the slave dog—have pretended that the cities of the governments of the King are given to them—our cities. The fortress has not opened to Aziru O King as to their cities are they not subject to them? From the city Simyra, to the city Ullaza, the city Sapi chariots  land of Egypt  from their hands for me. So now I am despatching this chief: he has left: do I not send to the King? Now the two chiefs of the land of Egypt, they whom you sent us remain with me, and have not gone out, since no soldiers are (intended for?) me, and the lands for the men of blood. And since the King’s heart altogether has forgotten my Egyptian soldiers (bitati) I send to Yankhamu and to Biri. They have taken those that were with the governors. Lo! may the land of the Amorites become (their) conquest. The corn which they have threshed for me has been stored up, a part of the whole with my and one part with me; and  the King will order  we  all whatever breathes; (it is not right to shut them up?) for the King; he is not coming to him: the chief must help himself to what was ordered to be stored up for the King. The King shall order a memorial as to the innocence of his servant. And as to the produce of the city O King there is none at all with me; all is finished from being distributed for (my own subsistence?). But as to this chief, the King will order him as I trust, and will give us men of garrison for to guard his faithful servant and his chief city, and the men of Nubia who are with us, as those who are your foes (exult?). Moreover behold (much to say?) Thinking this, I shall send to the palace for a garrison—men of Nubia  The


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. That is what I intend to find out. Call Chantel; get rid of the Baroness in any way you can.

. Chantel, the Comtesse wishes to see you. Pardon, Baroness…

. I beg your pardon.

. You did not remain to the concert?

. No, Her Highness was taken ill, and I was obliged to leave the room with her.

. With her and the Comte. We saw you go.

. The Comte has been most sympathetic.

. The Comtesse has been most displeased.

. Ah! The Comtesse? I was not aware that the Comte was married.

. He expects to marry shortly. The Princess has been flirting scandalously with the Comte all evening, and the Comtesse

. Is she the Comtesse who was a ballet-dancer? In fact, I am not sure what she was; I am not familiar with the details. In a place like this one is continually treading upon thin ice. I hear persons addressed as Duchess, Countess—when I am positive that there never were any such titles, and I have the entire almanac of European nobility by heart. There is a Duchessa d'Arcole here, for example, not to pursue the matter further

. A title dating from the First Empire, one of the most illustrious of France,

. It is not in my books. When it comes to that, in questions of nobility, the First Empire does not exist. It was a blot on the page of Europe.

. Why, Baroness! The first Duc d'Arcole was my great-grandfather. I would not exchange my title for a library of yours.

. I regret my indiscretion, and even more that


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 I am so placed that it is impossible not to commit one at every step. Good evening, Madame.

. Yes, hold your head high! You may be nobler than I am, but, after all, we both fill about the same void in the world.

. What is the matter?

. Nothing. That old Baroness! I wish I could have had the last word. What does Chantel say?

. He confirms it. The Princess has obtained a loan from the Comte, absolutely without security.

. Beyond what there is in her name.

. And her reputation. We might as well face it. In spite of all this pretense of boredom and superiority, the Comte is snob enough and sufficiently vain to ruin himself on account of this Princess, a thing which I can never consent to, after having sacrificed myself all these years to his whims and a life of flat monotony.

. It would be irritating to say the least, especially if he does not marry you. You gave up your artistic career to please him, and you had a brilliant future. You abandoned your poor father, too, who took to drink when you left.

. No, no, that is not true. He took to drink before I left.

. But he drank more heavily afterward, because you sent him more money.

. Chantel, we have always been friends. Advise me. For the first time I am confronted with a serious danger.

. Do you prefer the offensive or the defensive? The defensive is more dignified, as it permits you to ignore the situation. The secret of defense is delay. In the first place, the Comte's attachment to you, which is something more than passion by this time, or than momentary caprice,


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 King will men of garrison  of the land of Nubia for its guarding, you will not  this city to the men of blood.”

51 B.—The ordinary salutation: the letter goes on in an eloquent strain: “The storm (or a tumult) has burst forth. Let the King behold the city of Simyra. Lo! the city of Simyra has remained as a bird caught in the snare: so her is left to the city of Simyra. The sons of Abdasherah by their devices, and the men of the city of Arāda (Arvad) by their hostility have made her wroth, and a fleet has sped in the sight of Yankhamu  men of the city  they have seized, and  Lo! the men of the city Arvad searched for the coming forth of the Egyptian soldiers (bitati); Abdasherah is with them, has he not marched? and their ships are set against the reinforcements from the Land of Egypt. So now there is no nagivation. Let them make haste. Now they have seized the city Ullaza (Kefr Khullis) and all whatsoever Abdasherah has to the chiefs. And lo! we and the ships of the men of Misi (the Delta?) have been broken, with whatsoever was theirs. And as for me they went not up to fight for the mastery of the city of Simyra. Yapaaddu has fought on my side, against whosoever was not faithful (or constant). They have trodden me down So now in sight of Zabandi and of Ibikhaza also, I have (joined?) myself to Yankhamu; and you will know their (good opinion?) of my faithfulness: as to what he thinks of my zeal make him confess, so he will (make it known?). He has fought for me and lo! they are wasting the city Ullaza (to make an end thereof?).”

The back of this long letter is unfortunately quite destroyed. The final sentences are on the edge, the tablet being of considerable thickness:

“I have desired peace (like?) a faithful servant of the King. The men of Egypt, expelled from this city of our neighbor, are with me; and there is no for them to eat. Yapaaddu has not granted my servants this this poor country; but we have been swift to help the city Simyra


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 they have gone up to fight the ships (of the city) of Arāda (Arvad)  (it was grievous?)  Riib ”

55 B.—A much-broken letter appears to refer to a message from the King being seized, and that 300 men poured out and burned a city. It speaks of a Paka and of Egyptian soldiers, and of the city Beruti (Beirût) and of Abdasherah’s forces.

16 B.M.—To the King my Lord thus says Ribadda thy servant, the dust of thy feet. I bow seven times and seven times at the feet of my Lord. And will not my Lord hear the message of thy servant? Men of the city of Gebal, and my family; and a wife whom I loved, they have taken away after the son of Abdasherah; and we have made a gathering; we have searched; and I cannot hear a word spoken about them. I am sending to the King my Lord, and once more, despatch thou men of garrison, men of war, for thy servant; and will you not defend the city of the King my Lord? But news has not arrived from the King my Lord for his servant. But he will be generous; he will remember me; and the advice (I speak) comes from my heart. The region near (us) Ammunira has traversed throughout, and I went to him, for he gave assistance. And I myself searched for my family, but it has been made to vanish from my sight; and the King my Lord shall counsel his servant. Lo! the ally is zealous; and he has decreed a gathering of the Egyptian soldiers (bitati) of the King my Lord; and the King my Lord will counsel his servant. If there is no wish to be kind on the part of the King my Lord, I myself am helpless; and the King has no servants. Moreover, my son and my wife have been subjected to a man who sins against the King.”

15 B. M—“To Amanabba my father, thus Ribadda thy son. I bow at my father’s feet. Baalath of the city Gebal strengthens your favor in the sight of the King your Lord. Why has it been asked, and no complaint (is made) to the King? and you hesitate about the Egyptian soldiers (bitati), and you are brought low before the land of the Amorites. If you had heard of us (that) the Egyptian soldiers (are) strong, and that they have deserted their towns, and gone away, you know


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60

The general form and coloration of this species is not unlike alamedana, but the tarsi are of peculiar structure and the metasternal projection quite different.

Distinct from any of the preceding in lustre, sculpture and situation of the elytral apices.


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 They have duped me enough already. That I, with my high character, and connections! that I, the Marquess of Carabas, should have been the victim of the arts of a young scoundrel!"

Vivian's fist was once clenched—but it was only for a moment. The Marquess leant back in his chair, with his eyes shut. In the agony of the moment, a projecting tooth of his upper jaw, had forced itself through his under lip, and from the wound, the blood was flowing freely over his dead white countenance. Vivian left the room.

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 "The matter!'" howled the Marquess, "the matter! That I have been a vain, weak, miserable fool!" and then there was another oath, and he flung the letter to the other side of the table.

It was the official congé of the Most Noble Sydney Marquess of Carabas. His Majesty had no longer any occasion for his services. His successor was Lord Courtown!

I will not affect to give any description of the conduct of the Marquess of Carabas at this moment. He raved! he stamped! he blasphemed! but the whole of his abuse was levelled against his former "monstrous clever"" young friend; of whose character he had so often boasted that his own was the prototype, but who was now an adventurer—a swindler—a scoundrel—a liar—a base, deluding, flattering, fawning villain, &c. &c. &c. &c.

"My Lord!"—said Vivian.

"I'll not hear you—out on your fair words!

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 said Vivian, with a face pallid as death, "and apparently the composition of the same writer; at least, it is the same tale, the same refacimento of lies, and treachery, and cowardice, doled out with diplomatic politesse. But I will off toshire instantly. It is not yet too late to save every thing. This is Wednesday; on Thursday afternoon, I shall be at Norwood Park. Thank God! I came this morning."

The face of the Marquess, who was treacherous as the wind, seemed already to indicate, "Adieu! Mr. Vivian Grey!" but that countenance exhibited some very different passions, when it glanced over the contents of the next epistle. There was a tremendous oath—and a dead silence. His Lordship's florid countenance turned as pale as that of his companion. The perspiration stole down in heavy drops. He gasped for breath!

"Good God! my Lord, what is the matter?"

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 Here, read it, read it, man.—I've no head today."

Vivian took the letter, and his quick eye dashed through its contents in a second. It was from Lord Courtown, and dated far in the country. It talked of private communications, and premature conduct, and the suspicious, not to say dishonest, behaviour of Mr. Vivian Grey: it trusted that such conduct was not sanctioned by his Lordship, but "nevertheless obliged to act with decision—regretted the necessity," &c. &c. &c. &c. In short, Lord Courtown had deserted, and recalled his pledge as to the official appointment promised to Mr. Cleveland, "because that promise was made, while he was the victim of delusions created by the representations of Mr. Grey."

"What can all this mean, my Lord?"

The Marquess swore a fearful oath, and threw another letter.

"This is from Lord Beaconsfield, my Lord,"

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 sentiments on that point. But some people take such strange ideas into their heads! To be sure, to be sure, the predominant interest, mine—that is to say, our's, Vivian, is the predominant interest. I've no idea of the predominant interest, not being predominant; that would be singular! I knew you 'd agree with me—we always agree. 'Twas a lucky hour when we met. Two minds so exactly alike! I was just your very self when I was young; and as for you—my career is before you."

Here entered Mr. Sadler with the letters.

"One from Courtown. I wonder if he has seen Mounteney. Mounteney is a very good-natured fellow, and I think might be managed. Ah! I wish you could get hold of him, Vivian; you'd soon bring him round. What it is to have brains, Vivian!" and here the Marquess shook his head very pompously, and at the same time, tapped very significantly on his left temple. "Hah! what—what 's all this!

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 to be expected that I, the Marquess of Carabas, was going to make any move which compromised the predominancy of my interests. No, no, no, my Lord Courtown—the predominant interest must be kept predominant,—eh! Vivian?"

"To be sure, to be sure, my Lord; explicitness and decision will soon arrange any desagrémens."

"I have been talking to the Marchioness, Vivian, upon the expediency of her opening the season early. I think a course of Parliamentary dinners would produce a good effect. It gives a tone to a political party."

"Certainly; the science of political gastronomy has never been sufficiently studied."

"Egad! Vivian, I 'm in such spirits this morning. This business of Beresford so delights me; and finding you agree with me about Lord Courtown, I was confident as to your

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 felt confident what would be your opinion. My Lord Courtown is not to carry every thing before him, in the spirit that I have lately observed—or rather, in the spirit which I understand, from very good authority, is exhibited. Eh! Vivian—that 's your opinion, isn't it?"

"Oh! my dear Marquess, we must think alike on this, as on all points."

"I knew it. I felt confident as to your sentiments upon this subject. I cannot conceive, why some people take such strange ideas into their heads! I knew that you couldn't disagree with me upon this point. No, no, no, my Lord Courtown must feel which is the predominant interest, as you so well express it. How choice your expressions always are! I don't know how it is, but you always hit upon the right expression, Vivian.—The predominant interest—the pre-do-mi-nant—in-te-rest. To be sure. What! with my high character and connections—with my stake in society, was it

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 "Oh! nothing, nothing; people talk at random—at random—at random. I feel confident you quite agree with me,—eh! Vivian?"

"Really, my Lord, I fear I'm unusually dull this morning."

"Dull! no, no, you quite agree with me. I feel confident you do. People must be taught what their situations are—that's what I was saying, Vivian. My Lord Courtown," added the Marquess in a whisper, "is not to have every thing his own way,—eh! Vivian?"

"Oh, oh!" thought Vivian, "this then is the result of that admirable creature, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, staying a week with her dear friend. Lady Courtown."—"My Lord, it would be singular, if, in the Carabas party, the Carabas interest was not the predominant one."

"I knew you thought so. I couldn't believe, for a minute, that you could think otherwise: but some people take such strange ideas into their heads—I can't account for them. I

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 Royal Councils. And as I have often remarked, I have friends—I have you, Vivian. My career is before you. I know what I should have done, at your age; not to say, what I did do—I to be a tool! The very last person that ought to be a tool. But I see my error: you have opened my eyes, and blessed be the hour in which we met. But we must take care how we act, Vivian; we must be wary—eh! Vivian—wary—wary. People must know what their situations are,—eh! Vivian?"

"Exceedingly useful knowledge, my Lord, but I don't exactly understand the particular purport of your Lordship's last observation."

"You don't, eh?" asked the peer, and he fixed his eyes as earnestly, and expressively, as he possibly could upon his young companion. "Well, I thought not. I was positive it was not true," continued the Marquess, in a murmur.

"What, my Lord?"

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 "Well, my Lord, I trust that will not be wanting."

"No, Vivian—you have opened my eyes to the situation in which fortune has placed me. The experience of every day only proves the truth, and soundness, of your views. Fortunate, indeed, was the hour in which we met."

"My Lord, I do trust that it was a meeting, which neither of us will live to repent."

"Impossible! my dearest friend. I do not hesitate to say, that I would not change my present lot for that of any peer of this realm; no, not for that of His Majesty's most favoured counsellor. What! with my character and my influence, and my connections, I to be a tool! I, the Marquess of Carabas! I say nothing of my own powers; but, as you often most justly, and truly, observe, the world has had the opportunity of judging of them; and I think, I may recur, without vanity, to the days in which my voice had some weight in the

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" is very kind of you, Grey! I was afraid my note might not have caught you. You hav'n't breakfasted? Really, I wish you'd take up your quarters in Carabas House, for I want you now every moment."

"What is the urgent business of this morning, my Lord?"

"Oh! I've seen Beresford."

"Hah!"

"And every thing is most satisfactory. I did not go into detail; I left that for you: but I ascertained sufficient to convince me, that management is now alone required."

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insists, that this is the only title, under which I can possibly publish the letters, which Vivian Grey received on the day of, 18—. I love to be particular in dates.

The Honourable Miss Cynthia Courtown, to Vivian Grey, Esq.

" Alburies, Oct. 18—

"We have now been at Alburies for a fortnight. Nothing can be more delightful. Here is every body in the world that I wish to see,

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 except yourself. The Knightons, with as many outriders as usual:—Lady Julia and myself are great allies; I like her amazingly. The Marquess of Grandgoût arrived here last week, with a most delicious party; all the men who write John Bull. I was rather disappointed at the first sight of Stanislaus Hoax. I had expected, I don't know why, something juvenile, and squibbish—when lo! I was introduced to a corpulent individual, with his coat buttoned up to his chin, looking dull, gentlemanly, and apoplectic. However, on acquaintance, he came out quite rich—sings delightfully, and improvises like a prophet—ten thousand times more entertaining than Pistrucci. We are sworn friends; and I know all the secret history of John Bull. There is not much, to be sure, that you didn't tell me yourself; but still there are some things. I must not trust them, however, to paper, and therefore pray dash down to Alburies immediately;

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 I shall be most happy to introduce you to Lord Devildrain. There was an interview. What think you of that? Stanislaus told me all, circumstantially, and after dinner—I don't doubt that it 's quite true. What would you give for the secret history of the 'rather yellow, rather yellow,' chanson. I dare not tell it you. It came from a quarter that will quite astound you, and in a very elegant, small, female hand. You remember Lambton did stir very awkwardly in the Lisbon business. Stanislaus wrote all the songs that appeared in the first numbers, except that; but he never wrote a single line of prose for the first three months: it all came from Vivida Vis.

"I like the Marquess of Grandgoût so much! I hope he'll be elevated in the peerage:—he looks as if he wanted it so! Poor dear man!

"Oh! do you know I've discovered a liaison between Bull, and Blackwood. I'm to be in the next Noctes; I forget the words of the chorus

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 a pint of Maraschino. Gone through it all; and yet here I am, breathing as freely as a young eagle. Oh! for an indigestion, if merely for the sake of variety! Good heavens! I'm afraid I'm getting healthy!

Now for Vivian Grey again! I don't know how it is, but I cannot write to-day; the room's so hot. Open that door: now I shall get on better. Oh, what a wretched pen! I can't get out a sentence. The room's too cold;—shut that horrid door. Write I must, and will,—what's the matter? It's this great bowstring of a cravat. Off with it! who could ever write in a cravat?

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text: Journal of the Optical Society of America/Volume 30/Issue 12/Analysis of the Munsell Color System


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 up to my knees in mud, and my pretty violet-coloured slippers spoilt!

First dinner bell! A hecatomb to the son of Latona,—his rays are getting less powerful, and it's getting a little later. Though nobody is staying here, I'll go and dress myself in the most elaborate manner; it will assist in the destruction of the time. What a dull dinner! I have eaten of every thing:—soupe printannière (twice)—fillets of turbot à la crême—fowl à la Montemorenci, garnished with ragoût à l'Allemande—neck of veal à la Ste. Menehoult—marinade of chickens à la St. Florentin—Muriton of red tongue, with spinach—six quails—two dishes of kale, merely with plain butter—half a dozen orange jellies, en mosaïques—cauliflowers with velouté sauce, and a petit gateau à la Mnon—a soufflée with lemon, and a dozen Neufchâtel cheeses —a bottle of Markebrunnen, a pint of Latour, and

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 cinth, my dear, dear dog! Oh! you little wretch! you've bit my lip. Get out! I'll not speak to you for a fortnight. I'll get Spenser's Faery Queen—I'm just in the humour for reading it; but still its a horrid bore to get up and go to the library. Come! a desperate exertion! On my legs again—there's nothing like energy. Here's the book. Oh! how I shall revel in his sweet and bitter fancies!—Confusion! I've brought a volume of Tillotson's Sermons. I hate the fellow! That's the advantage of your country libraries, having all your books bound the same.

Now I don't know what I shall do. I think I'll amuse myself by jumping over that ha-ha;—I'm quite confident I can do it—and yet whenever I'm about trying, my heart sadly misgives me. It's a complete fallacy; it's devilish deep though. There—that easterly wind has baulked me again; and here I am,

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 I must take a very thin crust, or one traveller's biscuit, and a little Hock and Seltzer; although I'm in that horrid situation, neither possessing appetite, nor wanting refreshment. What shall I do now? Who can write when the sun shines? It's a warm, soft, sunny day, though in March. I'll lie down on the lawn and play with my Italian greyhound. Don't think me a puppy for having one. It was given to me by. That's a sufficient excuse, is it not? Now Hyacinth, now my Hyacinth, now my own dog; try to leap over me!—frolick away, my beautiful one; I love thee, and have not I cause? What confidence have you violated? What sacred oaths have you outraged? Have you proved a craven in the hour of trial? Have I found you wanting when I called, or false when I fondled? Why do you start so, my pretty dog? Why are your eyes so fixed, your ears so erect. Pretty creature! does any thing frighten you? Kiss me, my own Hya-

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days had elapsed. Katherine had been for a walk by herself one morning, and came back to find Lenox grinning at her expectantly.

"Your young man has been ringing you up, Katherine!"

"Who do you call my young man?"

"A new oneRufus Van Aldin's secretary. You seem to have made rather an impression there. You are becoming a serious breaker of hearts, Katherine. First Derek Kettering, and now this young Knighton. The funny thing is, that I remember him quite well. He was in Mother's War Hospital that she ran out here. I was only a kid of about eight at the time."

"Was he badly wounded?"

"Shot in the leg, if I remember rightlyrather a nasty business. I think the doctors messed it up a bit. They said he wouldn't limp or anything, but when he left here he was still completely dot and go one."

Lady Tamplin came out and joined them.

"Have you been telling Katherine about Major Knighton?" she asked. "Such a dear fellow! Just at first I didn't remember himone had so manybut now it all comes back."

"He was a bit too unimportant to be remembered before," said Lenox. "Now that he is a secretary to an American millionaire, it is a very different matter."


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 he fixes on the topmost branch of yon lofty acacia. What shall I do? I'm not the least in the humour for writing.

There is the luncheon bell! Luncheon is a meal, if meal it may be called, which I do not patronise. 'Tis very well for school-boys and young ladies; acceptable to the first, because they are always ready to devour—and to the second, because a glass of sherry and a slice of reindeer's tongue, and a little marmalade, and a little Neufchâtel, enable them to toss their pretty little heads at dinner, and "not touch any thing;" be proportionately pitied, and look proportionately interesting. Luncheon is the modern mystery of the Bona Dea. I say nothing, but I once acted Clodius, in this respect. I never wondered afterwards at a woman's want of appetite.

But in the dear delicious country, and in a house where no visitor is staying, and where I am tempted to commit suicide hourly, I think

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 not the land of the Amorites. Behold they have taken these places from us, and I am ill at ease. Behold now do not they support Abdasherah? behold they have deceived us about them, and you promise us, day and night to send the Egyptian soldiers, and we are made sad about it, and all the chiefs of the Government. Thou shalt promise us to do this thing to Abdasherah: lo! he sends to the chiefs of the city of Ammiya (Amyûn) to slay him who was established as Lord, and they submitted to the men of blood. So now thou shalt say for us—the Chiefs of the Government; so now they are doing to us, and thou shalt announce to him (that) all the lands are for men of blood, and speak thou this message in the presence of the King my Lord. Lo! a father and a lord this thou art to me; and as for thee my face I bend, you know, to my master: behold what is done in the city of Simyra, lo! I am with thee. But complain to the King thy Lord, and you will send to me as I trust.”

20 B. M.—“Ribadda sends to his Lord the Great King, the King of many lands to the prosperous King. Baalath of Gebal has confirmed the power of the King my Lord. At the feet of my Lord the Sun seven times seven times he bows him. A petition has been made long ago, made for the city of Gebal, to despatch Bikuru (to the) chiefs of the Land of Egada served me, which  I  three of the chiefs  they strove  the Land of Egypt  and then the King my Lord  as in against

“If the King my Lord supports his faithful servant; and despatch thou this her chief (speedily?); and we two watch the city for the King. The King shall send the choicest of thy great men, from among those who guard him. The three chiefs whom Bikhuru strove to despatch, but who have fled, (are) Abdirama, Iddinaddu, Abdmelec, these are sons of Abdasherah; and they have taken the King’s land for themselves. He shall send the bitati ”


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 "Darling!" said Lady Tamplin in her vague reproachful voice.

"What did Major Knighton ring up about?" inquired Katherine.

"He asked if you would like to go to the tennis this afternoon. If so, he would call for you in a car. Mother and I accepted for you with empressement. Whilst you dally with a millionaire's secretary, you might give me a chance with the millionaire, Katherine. He is about sixty, I suppose, so that he will be looking about for a nice sweet young thing like me."

"I should like to meet Mr. Van Aldin," said Lady Tamplin earnestly; "one has heard so much of him. Those fine rugged figures of the Western world"she broke off"so fascinating," she murmured.

"Major Knighton was very particular to say it was Mr. Van Aldin's invitation," said Lenox. "He said it so often that I began to smell a rat. You and Knighton would make a very nice pair, Katherine. Bless you, my children!"

Katherine laughed, and went upstairs to change her clothes.

Knighton arrived soon after lunch and endured manfully Lady Tamplin's transports of recognition.

When they were driving together towards Cannes he remarked to Katherine: "Lady Tamplin has changed wonderfully little."

"In manner or appearance?"

"Both. She must be, I suppose, well over forty, but she is a remarkably beautiful woman still."

"She is," agreed Katherine.

"I am very glad that you could come to-day," went


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 for Dr. Kitchener, or the Almanach des Gourmands? you, whose food is the dew of heaven, and the honied juices which you distil from every flower? Shadowed by a leaf of that thick shrub, I could for a moment fancy that your colour was sooty black; and yet now that the soft wind has blown the leaf aside, my eye is suddenly dazzled at the resplendent glow of your vivid purple. Now I gaze in admiration at the delightful, and amazing variety of your shifting tints playing in the sunbeam; now, as it is lighting up the splendour of your purple mantle, and now lending fresh brilliancy to your rings of burnished gold!

My brilliant purple Emperor! I must have you—I must indeed:—but I wish, if possible, to bring you down, rather by the respiration of my flank than the impulse of my thong.—Smack!—Confound the easterly wind playing up my nostril. I've missed him—and there he flies, mounting higher and higher, till at last

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 on Knighton. "M. Poirot is going to be there also. What an extraordinary little man he is. Do you know him well, Miss Grey?"

Katherine shook her head. "I met him on the train on the way here. I was reading a detective novel, and I happened to say something about such things not happening in real life. Of course, I had no idea of who he was."

"He is a very remarkable person," said Knighton slowly, "and has done some very remarkable things. He has a kind of genius for going to the root of the matter, and right up to the end no one has any idea of what he is really thinking. I remember I was staying at a house in Yorkshire, and Lady Clanravon's jewels were stolen. It seemed at first to be a simple robbery, but it completely baffled the local police. I wanted them to call in Hercule Poirot, and said he was the only man who could help them, but they pinned their faith to Scotland Yard."

"And what happened?" said Katherine curiously.

"The jewels were never recovered," said Knighton drily.

"You really do believe in him?"

"I do indeed. The Comte de la Roche is a pretty wily customer. He has wriggled out of most things. But I think he has met his match in Hercule Poirot."

"The Comte de la Roche," said Katherine thoughtfully; "so you really think he did it?"

"Of course." Knighton looked at her in astonishment.

"Don't you?"

"Oh yes," said Katherine hastily; "that is, I mean, if it was not just an ordinary train robbery."


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 also write about. Some day I may, perchance, write for fame; at present, I write for pleasure. I think, in that case, I'll write an epic, but it shall be in prose. The reign of Poesy is over, at least for half a century; and by that time my bones will be bleached. I think I should have made a pretty poet. Indeed, it is with great difficulty that I prevent my paragraphs from hobbling into stanzas.

Stop! I see the finest just alighting upon that myrtle. Beautiful insect! thy title is too humble for thy bright estate! for what is the pageantry of princes to the splendour of thy gorgeous robes? I wish I were a purple Emperor! I came into the world naked—and you in a garment of glory. I dare not subject myself to the heat of the sun, for fear of a coup de soleil; nor to a damp day for fear of the rheumatism; but the free sky is your proper habitation, and the air your peculiar element. What care you, bright one,

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 21 B.M.—“To Amanabba (by letter) thus (says) this Ribadda thy servant. I bow (at my Lord’s feet). The god Amen of thy Lord, builds up thy favor (with) the King thy Lord. Hear (they have fought) mightily, and over the Egyptian soldiers are victorious, and  to the Land of the Amorites.” The letter becomes too broken to read consecutively, but refers to the Land of Mitana, and apparently to a defeat of Yankhamu. He asks for corn, and speaks of having nothing to eat, in connection with the city of Gebal; and refers to three years of (dearth?), and to the corn failing.

19 B. M.—After the usual salutation to the King, this letter reads: “The King my Lord will say that the choicest of thy great men, and the choicest of thy city that thou hast are among those who guard us. My great men and (those of?) the city, were formerly men of garrison with me; and the King asked of us corn for them to eat, from my poor country. But now behold Aziru is destroying me, and I repeat there (are) no oxen, nor for me; Aziru has taken all. And there is no corn for my eating. And the chiefs—the Pakas—also have been nourished by the cities, exhausting the corn for their eating. Again: (being faithful), the King shall establish for me, as men of government, the men of government of their own cities, the men who at first were with their subjects. But as for me my cities are Aziru’s, and they long for me, to whom destruction is made by him, who is a dog of the sons of Abdasherah, and either you shall do for us as they wish, or you shall give orders for us to the King’s cities in these matters.

48 B.—This begins with the usual salutation, and then continues: “If perchance I send a message to the King my Lord, do not thou refuse the request of my memorial. Lo! thrice has come upon me a year of storms (or tumults), and again a year of storms begins. My wheat is naught; the wheat for us to eat: that which was for sowing for my freemen is finished; their beasts, their herbs, the trees of their gardens, are wretched, in my unhappy land. Our corn has failed. Once more the King will hear the message of his faithful servant, and will order wheat in ships, and his servant shall live; and be thou moved and send us corn. The chiefs (will send?) horses, as commanded, to Zu And thou shalt de-


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 arrive in the last scene with a chariot with four horses and a patent axle-tree— just in time!—Alas! dear Julia! we may meet again. In the meantime the memory of your bright blue eyes shall not escape me; and when we do meet, why you shall talk more and laugh less. But you were young when last you listened to my nonsense; one of those innocent young ladies, who, on entering a drawing-room, take a rapid glance at their curls in a pier glass, and then, flying to the eternal round table, seek refuge in an admiring examination of the beauties of the Florence Gallery, or the binding of Batty's views.

This slight allusion to Julia is a digression. I was about to inform you, that I have no intention of finishing this book by any thing extraordinary. The truth is, and this is quite confidential, invention is not to be "the feature" of this work. What I have seen, I have written about; and what I shall see, I shall perhaps,

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 the first volume and a half of this dear book. But there is nothing like the country? I think I was saying that these lounges in St. James's Park do not always very materially advance the progress of our narrative. Not that I would insinuate that the progress of our narrative has flagged at all; not in the least, I am sure we can't be accused of being prosy. There has been no Balaam (I don't approve this neologism; but I am too indolent, at present, to think of another word,) in these books. I have withstood every temptation; and now, though I scarcely know in what way to make out this volume, here I am, without the least intention of finally proving that our Vivian Grey is the son of the Marquess of Carabas, by a former and secret marriage—in Italy, of course,—Count Anselmo—Naples—and an old nurse, &c. &c.; or that Mrs. Felix Lorraine is Horace Grey, Esquire, in disguise; or of making that much neglected beauty, Julia Manvers,

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 oftener about our friends—as often about our enemies—at least, those who have any; which, in my opinion, is the vulgarest of all possessions;—I have no enemies. Am I not an amiable fellow? At this moment, I am perfectly happy—am I not a lucky fellow?

And what is your situation, Mr. Felicity, you will ask? Have you just made a brilliant speech in the House? or have you negociated a great loan for a little nation? or have you touched, for the first time, some fair one"s cheek? In short, what splendid juggle have you been successful in? Have you deluded your own country, or another? Have you deceived another's heart—or, are you, yourself, a dupe? Not at all, my sweet questioner—I am strolling on a sunny lawn, and flanking butterflies with a tandem whip.

I have not felt so well for these six months. What would I have given to have had my blood dancing as it is now, while I was scribbling

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 "It might be, of course," agreed the other, "but it seems to me that the Comte de la Roche fits into this business particularly well."

"And yet he has an alibi."

"Oh, alibis!" Knighton laughed, his face broke into his attractive boyish smile.

"You confess that you read detective stories. Miss Grey. You must know that any one who has a perfect alibi is always open to grave suspicion."

"Do you think that real life is like that?" asked Katherine, smiling.

"Why not? Fiction is founded on fact."

"But is rather superior to it," suggested Katherine.

"Perhaps. Anyway, if I was a criminal I should not like to have Hercule Poirot on my track."

"No more should I,” said Katherine, and laughed.

They were met on arrival by Poirot. As the day was warm he was attired in a white duck suit, with a white camellia in his buttonhole.

"Bon jour, Mademoiselle," said Poirot. "I look very English, do I not?"

"You look wonderful," said Katherine tactfully.

"You mock yourself at me," said Poirot genially, "but no matter. Papa Poirot, he always laughs the last."

"Where is Mr. Van Aldin?" asked Knighton.

"He will meet us at our seats. To tell you the truth, my friend, he is not too well pleased with me. Oh, those Americansthe repose, the calm, they know it not! Mr. Van Aldin, he would that I fly myself in the pursuit of criminals through all the byways of Nice."


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 arms in his defence, joined the concert; which became truly diabolical. This fray being with difficulty suppressed, by the intervention of our own footman and the cook-maid of the house, the squire had just opened his mouth, to expostulate with Tabby, when the town-waits, in the passage below, struck up their music, (if music it may be called) with such a sudden burst of sound, as made him start and stare, with marks of indignation and disquiet. He had recollection enough to lend his servant with some money to silence those noisy intruders; and they were immediately dismissed, though not without some opposition on the part of Tabitha, who thought it but reasonable that he should have more music for his money. Scarce had he settled this knotty point, when a strange kind of thumping and bouncing was heard right overhead, in the second story, so loud and violent as to shake the whole building. I own I was exceedingly provoked at this new alarm; and before my uncle had time to express himself on the subject, I ran up stairs, to see what was the matter. Finding the room-door open, I entered without ceremony, and perceived an object, which I cannot now recollect with-


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 "I should have thought myself that it would not have been a bad plan," observed Knighton.

"You are wrong," said Poirot; "in these matters one needs not energy but finesse. At the tennis one meets every one. That is so important. Ah, there is Mr. Kettering."

Derek came abruptly up to them. He looked reckless and angry, as though something had arisen to upset him. He and Knighton greeted each other with some frigidity. Poirot alone seemed unconscious of any sense of strain, and chatted pleasantly in a laudable attempt to put every one at their ease. He paid little compliments.

"It is amazing, M. Kettering, how well you speak the French," he observed"so well that you could be taken for a Frenchman if you chose. That is a very rare accomplishment among Englishmen."

"I wish I did," said Katherine. "I am only too well aware that my French is of a painfully British order."

They reached their seats and sat down, and almost immediately Knighton perceived his employer signallingsignaling [sic] to him from the other end of the court, and went off to speak to him.

"Me, I approve of that young man," said Poirot, sending a beaming smile after the departing secretary; "and you. Mademoiselle?"

"I like him very much."

"And you, M. Kettering?"

Some quick rejoinder was springing to Derek's lips, but he checked it as though something in the little Bel-


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conversations play the very deuce with one's story. I had intended to have commenced this book with something quite terrific—a murder, or a marriage: and I find that all my great ideas have ended in a lounge. After all it is, perhaps, the most natural termination. In life surely, man is not always as monstrously busy, as he appears to be in novels and romances. We are not always in action—not always making speeches, or making money, or making war, or making love. Occasionally we talk,—about the weather, generally—sometimes about ourselves—

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 out laughing to excess—It was a dancing master, with his scholar, in the act of teaching. The master was blind of one eye, and lame of one foot, and led about the room his pupil; who seemed to be about the age of threescore, stooped mortally, was tall, raw-boned, hard-favoured, with a woollen night-cap on his head; and he had stript off his coat, that he might be more nimble in his motions—Finding himself intruded upon, by a person he did not know, he forthwith girded himself with a long iron sword, and advancing to me, with a peremptory air, pronounced, in a true Hibernian accent, "Mister What d'ye callum, by my saoul and conscience, I am very glad to sea you, if you are after coming in the way of friendship; and indeed, and indeed now, I believe you are my friend sure enough, gra; though I never had the honour to sea your face before, my dear; for becaase you come like a friend, without any ceremony at all, at all"I told him the nature of my visit would not admit of ceremony; that I was come to desire he would make less noise, as there was a sick gentleman below, whom he had no right to disturb with such prepos-


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 gian's twinkling eyes had made him suddenly alert. He spoke carefully, choosing his words.

"Knighton is a very good fellow," he said.

Just for a moment Katherine fancied that Poirot looked disappointed.

"He is a great admirer of yours, M. Poirot," she said, and she related some of the things that Knighton had said. It amused her to see the little man plume himself like a bird, thrusting out his chest, and assuming an air of mock modesty that would have deceived no one.

"That reminds me, Mademoiselle," he said suddenly, "I have a little mater of business I have to speak to you about. When you were sitting talking to that poor lady in the tram, I think you must have dropped a cigarette case."

Katherine looked rather astonished. “I don’t think so," she said. Poirot drew from his pocket a cigarette case of soft blue leather, with the initial "K" on it in gold.

"No, that is not mine," Katherine said.

"Ah, a thousand apologies. It was doubtless Madame's own. 'K.' of course, stands for Kettering. We were doubtful because she had another cigarette case in her bag and it seemed odd that she should have two."

He turned to Derek suddenly. "You do not know, I suppose, whether this was your wife’s case or not?"

Derek seemed momentarily taken aback. He stammered a little in his reply: "II don't know. I suppose so."

"It is not yours by any chance?"

"Certainly not. If it were mine it would hardly have been in my wife's possession."


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 exactly, but Courtown is to rhyme with port down, or something of that kind, and then they 're to dash their glasses over their heads, give three cheers, and adjourn to whiskey-toddy, and the Chaldee chamber. How delightful!

"The Prima Donnas are at Cheltenham, looking most respectable. Do you ever see the Age? It is not proper for me to take it in. Pray send me down your numbers, and tell me all about it; that's a dear. Is it true that his Lordship paragraphises a little?

"I have not heard from Ernest Clay, which I think very odd. If you write to him, mention this, and tell him to send me word how Dormer Stanhope behaves at mess. I understand there has been a mélée, not much—merely a rouette: do get it all out of him.

"Colonel Delmington is at Cheltenham, with the most knowing beard you can possibly conceive; Lady Julia rather patronizes him. Lady Doubtful has been turned out of the rooms;

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 Poirot looked more ingenuous and childlike than ever.

"I thought perhaps you might have dropped it when you were in your wife's compartment," he explained guilelessly.

"I never was there. I have already told the police that a dozen times."

"A thousand pardons," said Poirot, with his most apologetic air. "It was Mademoiselle here who mentioned having seen you going in."

He stopped with an air of embarrassment.

Katherine looked at Derek. His face had gone rather white, but perhaps that was her fancy. His laugh, when it came, was natural enough.

"You made a mistake. Miss Grey," he said easily.

"From what the police have told me, I gather that my own compartment was only a door or two away from that of my wife'sthough I never suspected the fact at the time. You must have seen me going into my own compartment." He got up quickly as he saw Van Aldin and Knighton approaching.

"I'm going to leave you now," he announced. "I can't stand my father-in-law at any price."

Van Aldin greeted Katherine very courteously, but was clearly in a bad humour.

"You seem fond of watching tennis, M. Poirot," he growled.

"It is a pleasure to me, yes," cried Poirot placidly.

"It is as well you are in France," said Van Aldin.

"We are made of sterner stuff in the States. Business comes before pleasure there."

Poirot did not take offence; indeed, he smiled gently and confidingly at the irate millionaire.


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 don't know how much! Half the new world will be ruined; and in this old one, a most excellent fellow, my friend Ernest Clay. He was engaged to Premium's daughter—his dernière resource; and now, of course, it's all up with him."

"I was at College with his brother, Augustus Clay. He's a nephew of Lord Mounteney's, is he not?"

"The very same. Poor fellow! I don't know what we must do for him. I think I shall advise him to change his name to Clayville; and if the world ask him the reason of the euphonious augmentation, why, he can swear that it was to distinguish himself from his brothers. Too many roués of the same name will never do.—And now spurs to our steeds, for we are going at least three miles out of our way, and I must collect my senses, and arrange my curls before dinner; for I have to flirt with, at least, three fair ones."

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 "Do not enrage yourself, I beg of you. Every one his own methods. Me, I have always found it a delightful and pleasing idea to combine business and pleasure together."

He glanced at the other two. They were deep in conversation, absorbed in each other. Poirot nodded his head in satisfaction, and then leant towards the millionaire, lowering his voice as he did so.

"It is not only for pleasure that I am here, M. Van Aldin. Observe just opposite us that tall old manthe one with the yellow face and venerable beard."

"Well, what of him?”

"That," Poirot said, "is M. Papopolous."

"A Greek, eh?"

"As you saya Greek. He is a dealer in antiques of world-wide reputation. He has a small shop in Paris and he is suspected by the police of being something more."

"What?"

"A receiver of stolen goods, especially jewels. There is nothing as to the re-cutting and re-setting of gems that he does not know. He deals with the highest in Europe and with the lowest riff-raff of the underworld.

Van Aldin was looking at Poirot with suddenly awakened attention.

"Well?" he demanded, a new note in his voice.

"I ask myself,” said Poirot, “I, Hercule Poirot”he thumped himself dramatically on the chest"ask myself why is M. Papopolous suddenly come to Nice?"

Van Aldin was impressed. For a moment he doubted Poirot and suspected the little man of being


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 and taken a house in Gower-street. He wanted a bit of blood—hopes he likes it!"

"Hopes he does. Jack. There's a particular favour which you can do me, Osborne, and which I'm sure you will. Ernest Clay—you know Ernest Clay—a most excellent fellow is Ernest Clay, you know, and a great friend of yours, Osborne;—I wish you'd just step down to Connaught Place, and look at those bays he bought of Harry Mounteney. He's in a little trouble, and we must do what we can for him—you know he's an excellent fellow, and a great friend of yours. Thank you, thank you—I knew you would. Good morning:—remember Lady Julia. So you really fitted young Feoffment with the chesnut. Well, that was admirable!—Good morning;—good morning."

"I don't know whether you care for these things at all, Cleveland, but Premium, a famous Millionaire, has gone this morning, for I

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text: User:Thriftycat/WIP

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 The place where we were being not proper for pushing the matter any farther, the Count pretended to be satisfied with this answer, and retired; yet I could plainly see what was going on in his mind. Caroline did every thing in her power to make us forget the consequences of her little caprice, displaying her mental charms with a most bewitching humour, nature, and elegance. She endeavoured to dispel the gloom which frowned on the Count's brow, telling him, that she would try her fortune with him the next day: however, nothing was capable of restoring the harmony of his soul; and while I felt myself as happy as a god by Caroline's side, and reviewed all my ideas to select for her the most natural and intelligible sentiments, he was absorpt in a gloomy reverie, from which he scarcely awoke now and then.

Supper was, at length, served up, and we sat down to table in tolerable good humour and harmony. The conversation turning on the siege of Gibraltar, the

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 Toko happily. "Is the little fan safely closed?"

The Scarecrow felt in his pocket to make sure, then leaned forward in surprise. The Royal Silver Army were marching stiffly into the hall and the courtiers were bobbing and bowing and cheering like mad.

The General came straight to the great silver throne, clicked his silver heels, bowed and stood at attention.

"Well," said the Scarecrow, surveying this splendid person curiously, "what is it?"

"They have come for their decorations," announced the Grand Chew Chew, stepping up with a large silver platter full of medals.

"But I thought Tappy Oko and I saved the Island," chuckled the Scarecrow, nudging the Imperial Punster.

"Had the Imperial Army not retired and left the field to you, there would have been no victory," faltered the General in a timid voice. "Therefore, in a way we are responsible for the victory. A great general always knows when to retire."

"There's something in that," admitted the Scarecrow, scratching his head thoughtfully. "Go ahead and decorate 'em Chew Chew!"

This the Grand Chew Chew proceeded to do, making such a long speech to each soldier that half of the

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text: Author:James J. Glenn

title: Author:James J. Glenn


text: Author:James T. Killian

title: Author:James T. Killian


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 Court fell asleep and the Scarecrow fidgeted uncomfortably.

"They remind me of the Army of Oz," he confided to Happy Toko, "but we never have long speeches in Oz. I declare, I wish I could go to sleep, too, and that's something I have never seen any use in before."

"They've just begun," yawned Happy Toko, nearly rolling down the steps of the throne, and Happy was not far wrong, for all afternoon one after the other of the courtiers arose and droned about the great victory, and as they all addressed themselves to the Scarecrow, he was forced to listen politely. When the speeches were over there was still the grand banquet to be got through, and as the Silver Islanders ate much the same fare as their Chinese cousins, you can imagine the poor Scarecrow's feelings.

"Ugh!" shivered the Scarecrow, as the strange dishes appeared, "I'm glad none of my friends are here. How fortunate that I'm stuffed with straw!" The broiled mice, the stewed shark fins and the bird nest soup made him stare. He had ordered Happy Toko to be placed at his side, and to watch him happily at work with his silver chop sticks and porcelain spoon was the only satisfaction he got out of the feast.

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 "And what is that?" he asked, pointing to a steaming bowl that had just been placed before Happy.

"Minced cat, your Highness," replied Happy, sprinkling it generously with silver polish.

"Cat?" shrieked the Scarecrow, pouncing to his feet in horror. "Do you mean to tell me you are eating a poor innocent little cat?"

"Not a poor one at all—a very rich one I should say," replied Happy Toko, with his mouth full. "Ah, had your Highness only your old body, how you would enjoy this!"

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 past his job, a poseur only. Now, in a moment, he switched back to his original opinion. He looked straight at the little detective.

"I must apologize to you, M. Poirot."

Poirot waved the apology aside with an extravagant gesture.

"Bah!" he cried, "all that is of no importance. Now listen, M. Van Aldin; I have news for you."

The millionaire looked sharply at him, all his interest aroused.

Poirot nodded.

"It is as I say. You will be interested. As you know, M. Van Aldin, the Comte de la Roche has been under surveillance ever since his interview with the Juge d'Instruction. The day after that, during his absence, the Villa Marina was searched by the police."

"Well," said Van Aldin, "did they find anything? I bet they didn’t.”

Poirot made him a little bow.

"Your acumen is not at fault, M. Van Aldin. They found nothing of an incriminating nature. It was not to be expected that they would. The Comte de la Roche, as your expressive idiom has it, was not born on the preceding day. He is an astute gentleman with great experience."

"Well, go on," growled Van Aldin.

"It may be, of course, that the Comte had nothing of a compromising nature to conceal. But we must not neglect the possibility. If, then, he has something to conceal, where is it? Not in his housethe police searched thoroughly. Not on his person, for he knows that he is liable to arrest at any minute. There remains


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 his car. As I say, he was under surveillance. He was followed on that day to Monte Carlo. From there he went by road to Mentone, driving himself. His car is a very powerful one, it outdistanced his pursuers, and for about a quarter of an hour they completely lost sight of him."

"And during that time you think he concealed something by the roadside?" asked Van Aldin, keenly interested.

"By the roadside, no. Ça n'est pas pratique. But listen nowme, I have made a little suggestion to M. Carrège. He is graciously pleased to approve of it. In each Bureau de Poste in the neighbourhood it has been seen to that there is some one who knows the Comte de la Roche by sight. Because, you see, Messieurs, the best way of hiding a thing is by sending it away by the post."

"Well?" demanded Van Aldin; his face was keenly alight with interest and expectation.

"Wellvoilà!" With a dramatic flourish Poirot drew out from his pocket a loosely wrapped brown paper package from which the string had been removed.

"During that quarter of an hour's interval, our good gentleman mailed this."

"The address?" asked the other sharply.

Poirot nodded his head.

"Might have told us something, but unfortunately it does not. The package was addressed to one of these little newspaper shops in Paris where letters and parcels are kept until called for on payment of a small commission."


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Rh

The sterna of this distinct species are nearly as in alamedana, except that the metasternal projection is much shorter and more broadly though evidently angulate; the tarsi are rather slender, with the first four joints of the posterior equal.

In the peculiar form and sculpture of the abdomen this species resembles properans, but otherwise it is quite different.

These small slender species are held to form merely a group of Microdota. Our representatives are rather numerous and well differentiated, but are evidently congeners of Hilara palliola Er., though in nearly every case having the prothorax more developed.


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 "Yes, but what is inside?" demanded Van Aldin impatiently.

Poirot unwrapped the brown paper and disclosed a square cardboard box. He looked round him.

"It is a good moment," he said quietly. "All eyes are on the tennis. Look, Monsieur!"

He lifted the lid of the box for the fraction of a second. An exclamation of utter astonishment came from the millionaire. His face turned as white as chalk.

"My God!" he breathed, "the rubies."

He sat for a minute as though dazed. Poirot restored the box to his pocket and beamed placidly. Then suddenly the millionaire seemed to come out of his trance; he leaned across to Poirot and wrung his hand so heartily that the little man winced with pain.

"This is great," said Van Aldin. "Great! You are the goods, M. Poirot. Once and for all, you are the goods."

"It is nothing," said Poirot modestly. "Order, method, being prepared for eventualities beforehandthat is all there is to it."

"And now, I suppose, the Comte de la Roche has been arrested?" continued Van Aldin eagerly.

"No," said Poirot.

A look of utter astonishment came over Van Aldin's face.

"But why? What more do you want?"

"The Comte's alibi is still unshaken."

"But that is nonsense."

"Yes," said Poirot; "I rather think it is nonsense, but unfortunately we have to prove it so."

"In the meantime he will slip through your fingers."


text: Memoirs on the Coleoptera/Volume 1/New Species of the Staphylinid Tribe Myrmedoniini/Tribe Myrmidoniini/Group Athetæ/Atheta/Microdota


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 Poirot shook his head very energetically,

"No," he said, "he will not do that. The one thing the Comte cannot afford to sacrifice is his social position. At all costs he must stop and brazen it out."

Van Aldin was still dissatisfied.

"But I don't see"

Poirot raised a hand. "Grant me a little moment, Monsieur. Me, I have a little idea. Many people have mocked themselves at the little ideas of Hercule Poirot—and they have been wrong."

"Well," said Van Aldin, "go ahead. What is this little idea?"

Poirot paused for a moment and then he said:

"I will call upon you at your hotel at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. Until then, say nothing to any one."


text: The Mystery of the Blue Train/Chapter 21


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the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and twelve, there was, an' please your honour

—To tell thee truly, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, any other date would have pleased me much better, not only on account of the sad stain upon our history that year, in marching off our troops, and refusing to cover the siege of Quesnoi, though Fagel was carrying on the works with such incredible vigour—but likewise on the score, Trim, of thy own story; because if there are—and which, from what thou hast dropt, I


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 partly suspect to be the fact—if there are giants in it

There is but one, an' please your honour

—'Tis as bad as twenty, replied my uncle Toby—thou should'st have carried him back some seven or eight hundred years out of harm's way, both of criticks and other people; and therefore I would advise thee, if ever thou tellest it again

—If I live, an' please your honour, but once to get through it, I will never tell it again, quoth Trim, either to man, woman, or child—Poo—poo! said my uncle Toby—but with accents of such sweet encouragement did he


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 utter it, that the corporal went on with his story with more alacrity than ever.

was, an' please your honour, said the corporal, raising his voice and rubbing the palms of his two hands cheerily together as he begun, a certain king of Bohemia

—Leave out the date entirely, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, leaning forwards, and laying his hand gently upon the corporal's shoulder to temper the interruption—leave it out entirely, Trim; a story passes very well without these niceties, unless one is pretty sure


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 figure, enveloped in a cloak as black as pitch, surmounted by an enormous Spanish ruff; but the most horrible thing of all was, that Black Cloak had got no head! When the carriage stopped, so did No Head: when the carriage went on, so did he. “O-o-h!” groaned John, his hair standing perfectly upright. “Postillion! do you see that?”—“To be sure I do,” replied the postillion, in a very subdued tone; “there’s no mistake about it; but, silence!”

John sunk down upon the foot-board in a perfect agony of fear. And as in a thunder-storm in the night time, timid people love to get the whole house together, thinking themselves the safer the more there are of it; so John thought he would see whether he could not lessen his own terror by imparting a share of it to his mistresses. Accordingly he knocked, first gently, then loud, at the carriage window. Mamma first awoke; angry at being thus roused from her comfortable sleep, she pettishly cried out, “What’s the matter?”—“Please your Ladyship,” said John, in a voice scarcely audible, “look there! There’s a man without a head walking before the carriage!”—“Idiot,” said the Countess, “what silly stuff hast been dreaming about? For that matter,” added she, “men without heads are no novelty; there are plenty of such at Breslau, and everywhere else: where’s thy head, for instance?”

The daughters, who were now awake, did not feel


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 of 'emSure of 'em! said the corporal, shaking his head

Right; answered my uncle Toby, it is not easy, Trim, for one, bred up as thou and I have been to arms, who seldom looks further forward than to the end of his musket, or backwards beyond his knapsack, to know much about this matter—God bless your honour! said the corporal, won by the manner of my uncle Toby's reasoning, as much as by the reasoning itself, he has something else to do; if not on action, or a march, or upon duty in his garrison—he has his firelock, an' please your honour, to furbish—his accoutrements to take care of—his regimentals to mend—himself to shave and keep clean, so as to appear al-


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 like what he is upon the parade; what business, added the corporal triumphantly, has a soldier, an' please your honour, to know any thing at all of geography?

Thou would'st have said chronology, Trim, said my uncle Toby; for as for geography, 'tis of absolute use to him; he must be acquainted intimately with every country and its boundaries where his profession carries him; he should know every town and city, and village and hamlet, with the canals, the roads, and hollow ways which lead up to them; there is not a river or a rivulet he passes, Trim, but he should be able at first sight to tell thee what is its name—in what mountains it takes its


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Shadow

 * Shadow, a short story by Edgar Allen Poe
 * Shadow, a poem by Clement Richardson Wood

title: Shadow


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 Cape Chidley was doubled during the night with a favoring breeze, and suddenly the high mountains of Disko rose to view. The Bay of Godavhn, where the Governor-General of the Danish settlements resided, was left on the right.

Isle Disko is also called Whale Island. It was from this place that Sir John Franklin wrote his last letter to the Admiralty, on the 12th of July, 1845, and it was there that McClintock touched on his return, on the 27th of August, 1859, bringing incontestable proofs of the loss of the expedition.

The shore was one continuation of icebergs, of the most peculiar fantastic shapes, so firmly cemented to the coast that the most powerful thaws had been unable to detach them.

Next day, about three o'clock, they sighted Sanderson Hope, to the N.E. Land was on the starboard side, about fifteen miles off, the mountains looking brownish-red in the distance. In the course of the evening, several whales of the species called finners, which have their fins on the back, were seen disporting themselves among the ice, blowing out large volumes of air and water through the apertures in the head.

During the night of the 5th of May, the Doctor observed the luminous disc of the sun, for the first time, appear completely above the horizon, though from the 31st of January there had been constant daylight.

To those who are not accustomed to it, there is something in this continual day which excites wonderment at first, but soon gives place to weariness. One would hardly believe how necessary the darkness of night is for the preservation of the sight. The Doctor felt the constant glare positively painful, intensified as it was by the dazzling reflection of the ice.

On the 5th of May the Forward passed the seventy-second parallel. Two months later, she would have fallen in with numerous whalers about to commence their fishing, but at present the Straits were not free enough to allow their vessels to get into Baffin's Bay.

The next day the brig arrived in sight of Upernavik, the most northerly of the Danish settlements on the coast.