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THE TWENTY-FIRST CHERRY-STONE. [By the generous courtesy of the Editor of the Balmoral Magazine we are enabled, from his surplus stock and at sale prices, to produce a story containing hitherto unpublished details of the famous elopement of the Arch-Princess of HOHENSCHWILLBOCK, by the author of Crowned Heads I have hob-nobbed with.]

FEW students of Court intrigue will have forgotten that episode of the sudden flight and private marriage of the present Arch-Queen of HOHENSCHWILLBOCK, which set all the Chancelleries of Europe agog in the early nineties. But the secret of the part played in this adventure by a simple cherry-stone has been confined to a select three or four in the immediate entourage of Her Serene Archness. My own notoriously close intimacy with the now Arch-Prince Consort of HOHENSCHWILLBOCK (né Hereditary Postmaster of Rituralania) was at once the cause of my admittance to this secret and a bar to my disclosure of it. Noblesse oblige! But the recent demise of the late Ruler, and the succession of his daughter to the Arch-sovereignty, release me from the obligation to withhold my privileged information from the readers of the Balmoral Magazine.

"If it does not come right the first time, your Archness might try a second helping," she said.

Nein, nein, my GRETCHEN," replied the Princess; "having once committed myself to the control of Destiny, I will never tamper with its processes."

GRETCHEN, however, who was troubled by no such scruples, repaired at the first free moment to the sanctuary of the Chief Butler, a retired Sergeant-Major of the Uhlans of the Guard, of which the Arch-Princess was herself Colonel-in-Chief. The ex-warrior had long entertained an undisguised regard for the figure of his Colonel's maid; and, flattered by her confidences and by the hint that his own suit would not suffer by any services he might render to her mistress, he undertook so far to waive his dignity as himself to preside over the pie, and put exactly twenty-one cherries on the plate of the Arch-Princess.

Having secured this promise, GRETCHEN stole to the apartments of the Hereditary Postmaster and left on his dressingtable the following pregnant message: "Prepare for the best. Elopement fixed for 10.30 P.M." Half-an-hour later the happy lover instructed his valet that his plans were changed; he would leave that evening. He further handed him a teleFor a long time ere my brief story opens the late Arch-gram in cipher, addressed to the priest of a little village just King of HOHENSCHWILLBOCK had looked with open disfavour beyond the border, in Rituralania. on the attentions paid by the Hereditary Postmaster of the During the earlier courses of the Banquet, which was neighbouring Principality of Rituralania to his only child and served at 5.30 P.M. according to the immemorial custom of the heiress in tail-female. It is true that through his maternal Hohenschwillbock Court, the Arch-Princess, who had been grandmother (a Levantine Sultana) the royal blood of robed by her maid in a confection which might pass at once TAMERLANE Coursed in his veins, rendering him technically for a dinner-gown and a going-away dress, wore an air of eligible for the hand of the Arch-Princess. But he was poor abstracted listlessness. In vain her neighbour, a diplomat and tainted with Liberal tendencies, and his presence as a from the Near East, attempted to dissipate her pallor with guest at the Court of Hohenschwillbock was only tolerated Oriental badinage. At length the sweets were served, and on the ground of his philatelistic tastes, which were shared as the Arch-Princess began to devour the ruby berries she by the Arch-Monarch. Indeed, at the present momentous was vaguely aware of the Chief Butler's eye directed to her juncture he was only staying on to see the Old Year out on plate over her left shoulder. It showed a curiously anomalous the excuse of securing a set of the fresh issue of stamps trait in the character of one who had always anticipated the which was to appear on New Year's Day. conclusion of a romance by reading the last chapter first that with such important personal issues at stake she yet had the nonchalance to defer the counting of the stones till she had disposed of their edible covering.

The heart of the Arch-Princess (an organ which often meets with but scant consideration in the highest Court circles) was divided between passion for her unacknowledged suitor, and a filial regard for her royal father's wishes, the latter feeling being accentuated by fear of the rigours of Court etiquette.

A prey to indecision, she determined to have recourse to cheiromancy, a penchant for which she had inherited from her mother, who had dabbled in the Black Arts. Accordingly, on the afternoon of New Year's Eve, heavily veiled and attended only by a tiring-woman in whose discretion she reposed a perfect confidence, she bent her steps by obscure side-streets to the secret consulting-room of a fortune-teller, whose professional services were strictly taboo at Court.

"It is impossible," said the magician, after closely examining the lobe of her right ear and the lines on the ball of her left thumb, "to dissociate your destiny from that of a man your inferior in station, with dark hair and an hereditary leaning toward the pursuit of letters. Your fate will turn upon the numerical contents of a cherry-pie. This year-next year sometime-never." With these words, suspiciously indicative of a clear acquaintance with the facts, though somewhat enigmatic in the peroration for anyone that was not familiar (as was the Arch-Princess) with the language of augury, he took his fee and dismissed her.

As Mistress and maid--for the latter had assisted at this séance-threaded their way back to the Palace, the former enjoyed a certain sense of relief. She felt that the solution of a harassing dilemma had been taken out of her hands by a higher power, to whom she was content to leave the issue of events. Not so with the maid, whose fertile brain, fed on the rumours of Court scandal, was already devising a scheme for assisting Fate.

Suddenly she heard a suppressed oath. She had placed the last of the cherries (still uncounted) in her mouth-and no stone was forthcoming! Either she had inadvertently swallowed it, or it had never been there, or else could it have been some devilry on the part of HANS, the head footman, long suspected of espionage, who conceivably had overheard all in the Arch-pantry, had then abstracted the stone, and by a feat of legerdemain "forced" the hollowed cherry upon his colleague as the pie was being served?

Each of these theories passed rapidly through the brain of the Chief Butler. But it was no time for the consideration

of causes. The Arch-Princess was already beginning to count the stones, and action was imperative. To seize the unfinished plate of the diplomat from the Near East; to restore it under pressure of loud expostulations, having first withdrawn from it a single cherry-stone; to touch the Princess's plate, as if to remove it, with the words, "More pie, your Archness?" (an invitation permitted by the Hohenschwillbock Protocol, but one which he well-knew that she would answer in the negative), and to slip the stone from under his thumb among the twenty others--all this was the work of a moment, taking even less time than I have spent in dictating the above passage to my typist.

"Einen augenblick (one instant)," said the Arch-Princess, and finished counting up to twenty-one. Then, as he again bent low over her to take the plate away, he saw a warm flush mantling her cheek and heard her murmur to herself, "This year! This year! And that means to-night, for to-morrow is New Year's Day!"

As the ladies retired, she passed close by the Hereditary

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Postmaster and whispered, "You will fly with me to-night." To which he replied, sotto voce, "All shall be in readiness at 10 P.M., back door. Bring your jewels."

The flight of the two lovers an hour later in a pair-horse postchaise, and their marriage across the border at 11.30 on the same night, have long been matters of public knowledge. But the affair of the cherry-stone I am privileged to be the first to give to the world in the pages of the Balmoral Magazine.

As for GRETCHEN, she quickly followed the Arch-Princess, and was in turn followed by the Chief Butler. Both were welcomed into the ménage of the eloping couple, and themselves became man and wife; and under the new régime they have received, in consideration of their services, the respective posts of Burnt Almoner to the Arch-Prince Consort, and Mistress of the Spare-Bedchamber. In addition to this reward the ex-Chief Butler always wears a scarf-pin, mounted with a polished cherry-stone set in rubies, the gift of his grateful Master. O. S.

DEATH BY INSTALMENTS. A Northern paper says: "Mr. FOUNTAIN, a farmer residing at Topcliffe, near Thirsk, has a cow which has just given birth to a calf with two heads and necks. The latter subsequently died." We hope the heads will live long.

FROM A PARLIAMENTARY REPORT.-"At one point an Irish Member, who must have been studying Mr. CHAMBERLAIN'S face, considerately warned Mr. LYTTELTON that he was 'putting his foot in it badly.""

GREEK (RE-)VERSUS PREMIER.

[The Prime Minister visited Cambridge on Saturday to record his vote for the abolition of compulsory Greek in the Little-Go.-Daily Paper.] It was a Doubty Premier,

To Cambridge he did go;

Where men of "Stynx" had made a match "Twixt him and ó Tó.

A Little Goes a longish way

When driven straight and true; And ARTHUR'S ball fa's on the green, And makes the hole in two.

But in the rest of that great round,-

(A wondrous tale we tell)---
His ball was bunkered hard and fast
At every place it fell.

For fifteen hundred Parsons bold,
Hidden about the links,
Made living bunkers of themselves
To stem the tide of Stynx.

And so we bless the gallant band
That played for ὁ ἡ τό ;

For, though our Greek be little, we'll
Not let that Little Go.

A PATHETIC APPEAL. "I possess a splendid singing bird, but no feathers will grow on it. Can anyone tell me of a remedy for this?"--B. C. in the Evening News.

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Now I really was educated, having been at a well-known Public School at two of them, for that matter! And if an ordinary baboon can earn the screw of a Cabinet Minister or a Judge by simply appearing on the stage for a few minutes, and giving a clumsy imitation of some outsider's notion of a man-about-town, what price Me?

Without being a positive PADEREWSKI, I could pick out several tunes by ear on the piano; I could play billiards, and bridge, too-I won't say well, but marvellously for a monkey!

The only rock ahead I saw was PHYLLIS. She mightn't like the notion of any monkey of hers performing nightly at the Palace or the Empire. She might consider it would deprive her of most of the advantage of my society. I decided not to spring the idea on her all at once, but accustom her to it by degrees.

First of all she would naturally notice a sort of distinction about me; she would realise that I possessed a tact and savoir faire, an ease of manner which no piano-organ can impart. Then, when she had learnt to respect me, I could reveal my accomplishments gradually, one by one, and she would have to admit that such talents as mine ought not to be wasted in obscurity-they belonged not to her, but to the whole World !

To be held under a tap in a sink, soused with cold water, and scrubbed with beastly yellow soap and a most infernal hard brush, is not exactly the kind of treatment I was accustomed to, even under my aunt's roof-but I showed no resentment. I thought I probably required it.

It was over at last, and in a condition of almost offensive cleanliness [I loathe the smell of yellow soap myself-so depressing!] I was carried upstairs and deposited outside the drawing-room door, which MACROW opened for me.

My little plaid tunic had been burnt, so I had absolutely nothing on but the leather belt. One can't get rid of one's prejudices all at once, and though I knew that even this costume wouldn't be considered at all outré in my present case, I did feel just a little bit shy about going in. After all, though, I was one of the family, and I resolved to saunter in unconcernedly, as a person who had the right to feel at home.

Whether Nature was too strong for me, or whether I got a gentle push from MACROW's boot, I can't say, but I'm afraid that, as a matter of fact, I shambled in anyhow on all fours.

"You can't say he isn't clean now, Mums!" cried PHYLLIS. "Isn't he a perfect angel? I think I must have some new clothes made for him- he 'll look frightfully sweet in them!" I thought I should look all right if she would only let me go to my own tailor, who, though a trifle too given to press for immediate payment, does understand my figure- but how was I to give her his address? She said a lot more about me, till at last, not being used to such open admiration— especially from her I began to feel a bit embarrassed; it was enough to turn most monkeys' heads. To cover ny confusion, I wandered round the room, just as I should have done if I had remained my old self, looking at this and that, taking up an article here and there, fingering it, and putting it down again. Then I sat on the music-stool and struck a few careless chords on the piano. I had meant to play them as much as I could remember of the "Choristers' Waltz," but my fingers had all got so fumbly that I couldn't raise any tune in particular. But that would come back to me, with practice.

It was a bit of a bunker that, as yet, I could not talk intelligibly-but I was sure to hit upon some method of conveying my ideas before long-and then I could inform PHYLLIS that I had quite made up my mind to go on the stage. She was too sensible to stand in my way-especially if I offered her a commission on my salary-say, ten per cent., PHYLLIS was highly amused, at first, by my performance, which, even if I was making no more than two hundred but she did not appear to think it showed any marked a week, would be a welcome addition to her pocket-money. musical ability. If she had, she would not have insisted Should I ever reveal to her the secret of my identity? It on my leaving off so soon. Of course a hint from her would be a temptation some day to let her know that the was enough for me, and I got off the music-stool and brilliant and wealthy monkey who was the darling of Society retired to a sofa without, I hope, letting her see how deeply and the idol of the Public had once been her rather shiftless she had disappointed me. I took up the nearest Society and unsatisfactory cousin REGINALD. Still, perhaps it was journal and began to glance through it with better she should never suspect the truth. It would put the interest. Not that I really cared two straws how Lady HONOR family in a deuced awkward position. No, REGGIE BALLIMORE HYNDLEGGE'S small dance had gone off, or who were letting was better dead. I would use his dead self, as some poet- their houses for Ascot week, or going to have a houseboat at Johnny (MILTON, isn't it? or SHAKSPEARE ?) puts it, "as a step- Henley-I seemed now to have got so far beyond all that! ladder to something higher." But I was determined to make PHYLLIS understand that I had intellectual tastes.

By the time I had come to this decision, the carriage stopped at my aunt's house in Cadogan Gardens and I shall never forget MACROW the butler's face as CHARLES handed me to him by the scruff of my neck.

"It is Miss PHYLLIS'S monkey, MACROW," explained my aunt, with an anxiety to disown all responsibility for me that was not flattering. "And, PHYLLIS dearest, if you insist on having it in the drawing-room, hadn't you better- ?" I failed to catch the rest, but PHYLLIS replied, "Well, perhaps it might be as well. MACROW, will you take him to FRISWELL, please, and ask her to- to wash him for me and send him into the drawing-room?

FRISWELL, I fancy, was not altogether chummy with MACROW just then; at all events she told him it was no part of her work to bath a little beast of a monkey," and recommended him strongly to do it himself.

But he turned me over to the under scullery-maid instead and even she was sniffy about it.

However, it was a deuced tricky paper to manage especially as my feet would keep on trying to turn over the pages instead of leaving it to my hands. So I am not sure that PHYLLIS quite took in the fact that I was actually reading, and, whatever it was I did read, I can't remember a single line of it now.

But all of a sudden, as I sat there, MACROW appeared and announced: "Mr. BLUNDELL"-and sure enough, in walked old MONTY, irreproachably got up as usual! I was a bit staggered at first, for I wasn't aware he knew my aunt—1 hadn't introduced him.

Then it struck me why he had come. He had heard of my decease and volunteered to break the sad news to my family. It was pretty decent of him, really-though I would rather it had been anybody else. Because, between ourselves, I wouldn't have trusted dear old MONTY to break the death of a bluebottle without managing to foozle it somehow.

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