that particular purpose? In these yere case a sexton is pullin' on the rope; in the case I'm talkin' about the dead was a-tollin' the bell."

I looked aside at the old man curiously. There was something about him to indicate that he had been a sailor and a light in his eye that caused me to wonder if he were not an Ancient Mariner with a tale to tell. Though the light did not exactly indicate insanity, the fact of his speaking of the dead tolling their own funeral bells looked suspicious. I asked him to explain, and he did so as follows:

"When I was a younker I sailed from this port every two or three years for the east.

There was no Suez canal in them days, and we always went around the Horn or the Cape. On one o' them voyages when we was in the Pacific what I'm goin' to tell you happened. The Pacific is so big that it's kind o' lonesome. When a pusson has seen nothin' but water for a month and nary a ship or sighted land, even a sailor will sometimes feel as if he's lost in never endin' space.

"One night when we'd had reason to feel that way I was one o' the watch, and, sailin' along in the darkness-there was neither moon nor stars-I thort I heard the faint sound of a bell. I listened hard and heard it again. When I heard it a third time I asked one o' the watch if he heard it too. He listened and said he did. Then I knowed it wasn't my fancy. "One after another the rest o' the watch heard the sound. It wasn't regular; the strokes come any way. There wasn't no bell at sea that ever made such sounds except a bell buoy. But we was in the middle o' the Pacific ocean, where there wasn't no need of a bell buoy. And yet the strokes kept comin', sometimes near together, sometimes far apart, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, and in that big ocean o' blackness atop and below they was awful melancholy.

"Either we was movin' toward the sounds or they was movin' toward us or mebbe both. Anyway they was growin' plainer. The ole man come on deck all of a sudden. He'd heard the tollin' and couldn't make it out. It drifted past us in the darkness, soundin' clear for awhile, then growing' fainter astern. The ole

man couldn't bear to lose it without knowin' what it was and give an order to put the ship about and stand by or follow if needed till dawn, which was a couple o' hours off. So we did, and durin' them two hours, the dolefulest I ever experienced, we kept within the sound o' that bell.

"Mornin' come at last, and a couple o' miles away we saw something black, which, as the light growed, turned out to be a dismantled ship. She was a-rollin' and a-plungin', and every time she rolled or plunged we heard that solemn tollin'. That's what we'd been hearin'-the wreck's bell.

"The old man allowed that she was a derelict with no one aboard of her and her bell rope had rolled away or become unlashed. We sailed up to within a short pull of her, and the second mate boarded her, I bein' one o' the boat's crew to take him there. Her decks were awash, and it was plain there was nothin' alive on her before we got to her. We went on to her deck for'ard, which was a little higher than the stern, and looked around, but we didn't go below. One o' the men looked down a hatch, and his report was not encouragin' for us to go down among the dead men, and we let 'em alone.

"Well, now, I told you that I'd known a case where the dead tolled their own funeral bell. This was it. The crew, knowin' they was doomed, had nailed a board up near the bell and had painted on it a message

All hope gone. The ship's bell will toll our requiem.

"They had cut away the bell rope entirely.

"We'd brought a blast with us to sink the ship, and we put it where it would do the work, but the ole man, fearin' we might fail, had ordered the mate on no account to leave that bell a-tollin' to give persons on other ships the shivers. We'd brought axes with us, of course, and before firin' the blast we chopped away the bell's supports. And, would you believe me, sir, when it rolled down on to the deck it sounded like a dyin' wail.

"Heave the cursed thing overboard!' yelled the mate.

"We did that to, and when it struck the water it sounded like a dead man's last gasp."

My man had proved a veritable Ancient Mariner, and with as gruesome a tale. I was glued to my seat till he had finished, then, muttering something like thanks for his story, I left him. Fortunately for me, as I did so the tolling of the funeral bells ceased.

It Was Very Plain to Her

BY SADIE OLCOTT

I am an American girl and, what's more, if there is anything stirring I want to be in it. When the pan-European war broke out I was traveling in the Balkan states and made the acquaintance of the wife of one of the chief diplomats. I don't specify because there is a lot in this story that it wouldn't do for me to reveal. Indeed, I shall endeavor to tell it in a way that my own identity shall not be known.

From my friend the diplomat's wife I heard a great deal about the struggle between the entente and the central powers to secure the adhesion of the different Balkan states. I was impressed with the fact that there was a lot of chicanery going on and was seized with a desire to take a had in it, for the representatives of each side were ready to pay any price for information as to what the other side was going to do. I dropped a hint to the diplomat's wife that I would like to try my hand at diplomacy, which she understood to mean spying.

The very next day I received an invitation to call at a certain embassy. I was received by the secretary of legation. He was the most clean-cut man I had ever met, very handsome, with a certain impressiveness about him that is indescribable. I made up my mind then and there that whether or no I succeeded in a diplomatic mission I would bend all my energies to securing him for my own sweet

self.

Mr. Fauntleroy-so I will call him— told me that the entente allies were in great doubt which way the Bulgarian cat would jump. He expressed the idea in the choicest language, but I don't re

member his words. He wished me to go to Sofia and gain the confidence of some Bulgarian magnate and worm out of him which side King Ferdinand was going to declare for. I prolonged the interview with Mr. Fauntleroy as long as possible, all the while giving him such little hints to attract him to myself as a woman keeps ready for the purpose. When, however, I could think of no more points on which to ask instructions I bade him goodby and set out for Sofia.

I was some time getting the information I desired, for there was only one person who knew what the king had decided to do, and that was the king himself. Indeed, I got the information, not from a person, but from my own observation. Sometimes the plainest thing to a woman is that for which she can give no reason. I soon knew that King Ferdinand would take the German side. How I knew it I cannot tell you, though it was as plain as the nose of the king's face, and every one who has seen him or his picture knows that his nose is not to be mistaken for any other nose.

Returning to Mr. Fauntleroy, I told him that the king would jump toward Berlin. When I was asked the source of my information I said that I had succeeded in making a hiding in a room where the king had received a deputation of Bulgarian magnates, who had come to protest against his majesty's taking sides with Germany, and I was convinced that he was fooling them. Mr. Fauntleroy asked me how I knew the king was fooling them, and I replied, "Just as any woman knows when a man is not to be trusted."

Mr. Fauntleroy said he reckoned I was not cut out for a spy, though he offered to pay me for my work. I declined to take anything.

"But," I added, "Mr. Fauntleroy, if you act on what I tell you you will gain credit in your profession."

I gave him a pleading look, as though I was awfully interested in his success, and I really think he believed I was interested for him and not myself. He endeavored to persuade his superior and other diplomats to send word to London and Paris that King Ferdinand was about to declare for the central powers. But none of those

great men could see what was A B C to me, and when the king did join the Germans they were all very much astonished, and the powers they represented were caught in a position for which they were by no means prepared.

There was one, however, who could say, "I told you so." That was Mr. Fauntleroy. He had taken the precaution to enter a protest to his government against trusting King Ferdinand and recommending certain movements of troops in view of Bulgaria's action. It was risky for him to do this, for it must be done over his chief's head. Judge of the secretary's delight when his chief ordered home and he (Fauntleroy) was made ambassador. He sent for me, and the moment I entered the room, in his ecstatic condition, he took me in his arms and kissed me.

was

Of course by that action he put himself in my power, but he never realized that it was the turning point between us. When he introduces me now he does it with intended facetiousness.

"This is my wife," he says. "We work very well together. My diplomacy is founded on reason, hers on instinct. I would give fifty of my reasons for one of her instincts."

Be this as it may, his start as a diplomat was entirely due to me. And yet I take no credit to myself for what occurred. How so many diplomatic thunderers can fail to see what was so plain to a woman with no education in diplomacy whatever is unintelligible to me.

Tale of a Lost Engagement Ring

BY ETHEL HOLMES

"What do you mean, Clara, by associating with that thief Ralph Cummings? Do you wish to be ostracised by all your friends?"

A singular expression came over Miss Rathbone's face, an expression that cannot be described, though some idea of it may be formed by an understanding of what caused it.

"That thief, as you call him, is my fiance."

"Your fiance?"

"Yes, we will be married next month.

I shall acquaint you with the story attending Ralph's being considered a thief, after which you will be able to form an opinion of my reasons for marrying a man so branded. You are my sister and have a right to know them."

"Why may not all the world know them?"

"That you will understand when you have heard the story. When the Tophams gave their house party the episode occurred which branded Ralph as a thief. You were not there; I was. One afternoon all the automobiles on the place were got out, and the whole party was taken on a ride. I wore a short astrakhan jacket with a pocket on each side. Of course we were plentifully supplied with robes. When we returned, before taking off our wraps Alfred Topham asked us into the dining room to 'warm up,' as he expressed it. We all gathered around the sideboard and were warming up when a servant stepped up to Alf and handed him a little box that had come by express during his absence on the auto ride. We all knew that Alf had been attentive to Evelyn Mansfield, and one of the men very indelicately cried out:

"It's the engagement ring. Let's see it, Alf.'

'Alf opened the box and took out a ring set with a ruby between two diamonds. It was passed from one to another for inspection while the men continued to warm up. We spent some fifteen or twenty minutes in the dining room, and when we were about to separate Alf sang out:

"Who's got my ring?”

Every one looked at every one else, but no one produced the ring. For a time it was supposed that it would be forthcoming, but since it did not appear Alf's brows began to knit. We all joined in a search for it, on the floor, under the furniture. The ring was not found. The matter began to look serious. Had some one of the guests purloined it? Alf, being host, of course could not suggest such a thing, but his chum, Ned Thurston, presently said:

"I offer myself to be searched, and I dare say that all of you will volunteer for the same thing."

Everybody volunteered except Ralph.

He said that he must demur to such a process. We were all supposed to be ladies and gentlemen, and it would be an insult to each and every one of us to search us.

It took the party some time to digest what he had said, but the prevailing opinion was against it. Alf settled the matter by saying that he would rather lose the ring than put an indignity on any guest of his and forbade the search. Nearly every one considered Ralph's objection a virtual admission of guilt. It was believed that he had taken the ring, not foreseeing that he would so soon be caught with it on his person, and was obliged to choose between the course he took and full exposure. He did not wait to receive the cold shoulder, but left during the afternoon.

The blow fell as hard on me as it did on him. I had received nearly all his attention while at the Tophams, and the announcement of our engagement was expected before the party broke up. didn't know what to do or say in the matter, so I took no course whatever, declining to express an opinion. But it was not pleasant for me to remain after what had occurred, and I made an excuse to go away the next day. They were all very nice to me, urging me to stay it out.

"Soon after my arrival at home I was called to the telephone, and Ralph spoke to me.

"'Have you found Alf Topham's ring?" he asked.

"Have I found a ring? Do you mean to accuse me of being the thief?'

"Look in the pocket of the jacket you wore on the auto ride. I have hoped you had found it. God grant it's there."

I was thunderstruck. On entering the dining-room after the ride my jacket being too warm for the heated room I had taken it off and laid it on a chair in a corner of the room. Telling Ralph to hold the wire, I ran to a closet in my room, thrust my hand into the pocket of my astrakhan jacket and took out the ring.

"Running back to the phone, I told Ralph what I had done. He begged me not to utter a word to anyone about finding the ring till I saw him. He would come right over.

One traveling in Germany is impressed with the number of ruined castles he sees everywhere. These castles belonged to a period when the German emperor was much more of a figurehead than he is now, and the nobles were each and all independent owners of one of these castles and a small quantity of land surrounding it. The reason why the castles were all built on high ground was that they could be more easily defended.

The baron lived by levying tribute on merchants who passed here and there beneath him. Leaving his stronghold, he would swoop down on some luckless trader and either carry off his merchandise or levy tribute in cash. The only real fighting the barons did was with each other.

One of these nobles, Baron Rudolph Gothall, was growing old when he married, and a daughter, Bertha, was born to him. When her father was too old to fight any more Bertha, who inherited masculine bravery with feminine traits, seemed to consider it her part, since she had no brother, to take his place. She began by putting herself at the head of a force who sallied forth to exact tribute from a party of merchants. She had been told that since her father owned a narrow strip of land over which the traders must pass she had the right to make them pay for the privilege. She acquitted herself so well on this expedition that she thereafter was acknowledged as commander of her father's vassals.

From a little girl born in times when arms for those of rank was the only profession Bertha had learned the art of defense. Something in the construction of her eye, in the nerves, or perhaps both, rendered her remarkable in fencing not only for a woman, but for a man. There was no strength in her success. It was all art. Often of an afternoon in the castle court she would challenge some one of the men to a friendly contest with foils and would usually come out victori

ous.

The age and decrepitude of the baron led his younger neighbors to believe that he would be an easy prey and that his domain might be appropriated. They knew that he had no son to take his place and that there was no one to defend his castle except a girl, and, although they had heard something of Bertha's exploits, they did not deem her a competent adversary. There was one young man who through the death of his father came to his inheritance very young. His domain adjoined that of Baron Rudolph, and as soon as his father died he proposed that the two estates should be made one by his marriage with Bertha.

The truth is he had seen Bertha and had conceived a passion for her. It was as much his desire to possess her as to unite the two estates. One morning he rode up to Baron Rudolph's castle and sent in word that Count Stinzel desired an interview. He was admitted, and Bertha, who was at a window when he rode into the court, saw him. Baron Rudolph promised to submit the proposition to his daughter.

The answer Bertha gave was that she would accept Count Stinzel for her husband on condition that the ownership of the two estates should be decided by a friendly contest between them with foils. If the Count proved victorious they should both belong to him; if Bertha won, they should both belong to her.

The young Count could not very well decline such a proposition if he had wished to do so. He would become the laughingstock of all the country round about. But he had no desire to decline it. He was as well skilled in the use of arms as the average man, and if he could not win

from a woman he considered that he should deserve to come under the feminine yoke. He sent word that he accepted the challenge on the terms offered.

Bertha being a woman, the Count agreed to fight in the court of her father's castle. He came on the day appointed for the contest with a number of his principal retainers. Bertha came into the court in a fencing costume that was very becoming. She and the Count met at a table on which two copies of the contract were placed and signed them in presence of witnesses. Then they proceeded to the center of the court, and the contest began.

From the first the Count's movements in contrast with Bertha's agility seemed a trifle heavy, though it was evident that the strength was all on his side. As to that something we call skill, which is really in the physical makeup of the fencer, it was all on the side of Bertha. It had been embodied in the rules governing the contest that victory should consist in the first one to touch a red heart fixed to the left breast. Suddenly the Count's foil flew up in the air and left him defenseless. All Bertha had to do to win was to press forward and touch the heart on her adversary's breast with the button of her foil. Instead she dropped the point of her weapon to the ground and her eyes at the same time. It was apparent to all that though she had won the victory she would not take it.

The Count stood looking at her for a time; then, walking forward, took her in his arms and kissed her, a shout arising from those who witnessed the scene.

The two estates were united under one head and thus saved from those who would have conquered Baron Rudolph Gothall.