tossed and turned his pillow and tossed again, and then fell to arguing with himself, and whispered to the spirit of benevolence that was struggling with his conscience that much as it hurt him to harden his heart against his friend he could not be a traitor to his convictions. And then he sighed and finally fell into an unquiet sleep and dreamed that he was out in mid-sea in a frail boat wrestling with Goliath and that frightful sea-dragons were rearing their heads to devour him. When he opened his little eyes next morning he found his landlord, the tailor, standing over him, holding out a letter which a peasant had just brought to the door. The man was waiting for an answer. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that the troglodyte to whom he had so unflinchingly told the truth, had felt himself insulted and was now demanding satisfaction; and although he had been exercising his courage all night long in imaginary encounters, his hand trembled slightly as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter. The surprise that awaited him was an agreeable one, for the coarse note-paper contained these lines, written in a distinct hand: "Dear Mr. Hinze: "I have determined upon taking the room of which you spoke. Will you please make all necessary arrangements for me with your landlord? I should like to move in to-night. If the house door is left open no one need be disturbed. I will pay quarterly in advance. Auf wiedersehen. "Respectfully, "Christopher Magnus." It proved rather a difficult matter to present the case to the tailor. When, however, he had finally grasped the substance of it there were many "hems" and "haws," he was not a very strong man himself, and there was always more or less danger renting rooms to men of that class-and---. And then Mr. Hinze bethought himself of the tailoress, a great admirer of the little man's gentle manners and kind heart, and she smoothed matters over so pleasantly that the peasant was dispatched with the message that whenever Mr. Magnus should choose to come his room would be ready. Fortunately the night was dark and stormy and no sensation was created when, between eleven and twelve, the peasant, leading his horse by the bridle, and big Christopher, walking behind the cart, moved in solemn procession down the narrow street and halted before the tailor's door. The cart was lightly laden with the straw bed, the table, the bench and a box of books. The tailor and his wife leaned out of their window, curious and anxious; but, at sight of their new lodger's dimensions, regret and alarm seized them, and prudence dictated a speedy retreat. The wife threw down the door-key to the formidable stranger, and the pair sat cowering near the door, listening to their heart-beats and to the steps of the two men as they carried their load up the stairs. Then courage crept back into the woman's heart as she noted how quietly the moving was being accomplished, and how Magnus and the peasant had taken off their shoes for fear of disturbing the household. Besides, had not Mr. Hinze recommended the big man, she whispered to her frightened lord, and was not that a good reference in itself even though he might not be as refined and gentle in his way as the dwarf? They might of course, experience some trouble from renting their rooms to two such outlandish men, but they must look upon it as a visitation of the dear Lord and if this new lodger paid his rent promptly and did not beat them down for everything, she, for her part, would rather have a giant in the house than a painter like their last tenant, who left owing twelve months' rent. The brave little woman had no cause to regret her confidence, for a more punctual and unassuming lodger never gladdened a landlord's heart. The stove in his room was, fortunately, adapted to cooking as well as heating purposes, and on this Magnus prepared his simple breakfasts, politely declining his landlady's offer of morning meals from her kitchen. Of her services in other matters he was glad to avail himself, and was so grateful for the least kindness shown him that the good woman quite forgot her former dread in her admiration of his amiability. It was her unqualified opinion that the most lovable men she had ever met were this giant and dwarf and that medium-sized people might well take a lesson out of their books. This impression she confided only to her husband, for the big man's presence was studiously concealed from the other lodgers, for their peace of mind as well as for Magnus's own. Finally the tailor himself, taking advantage of the necessity of returning a receipt, crossed the awful threshold and was greatly impressed by the long row of books on an improvised mantel-shelf, flanked on either side by plaster casts in varying stages of disintegration-these last left by the previous occupant of the studio. A large tub, a water pitcher quite phenomenal in size, and some horse sponges on a nail overhead gave evidence of the tenant's cleanly habits. What he did with himself all day was a problem that baffled the utmost vigilance at keyholes. If there were a mystery attending him the dwarf guarded it closely, for he discouraged all conversation on the subject and did not appear to regard his friend as differing in any way from the every-day humanity about him. He was a frequent visitor in the great room below and observed, with a sense of lively satisfaction, the gradual disappearance of the deep marks between the bushy eyebrows, the pleasant light that would flash at times from the eyes, the smile that lurked at the corners of the mouth. All these advance signals of happiness he noted and preserved a discreet silence, asking never a question as to present duty or future occupation. And so when the giant had had his sleep out-for he continued his old habit of sleeping till the sun was high in the sky-and enjoyed his morning bath, Hinze would drop work and join him and the two would fall into a discussion of the puzzling problems that have disturbed wiser heads than theirs for generations back and will continue to disturb them for generations to come. But this arrangement was not altogether to their liking, and Magnus had the happy idea of contriving, with their landlord's consent, an entrance into Hinze's room through the ceiling, and thus making possible a pleasant companionship during working hours as well. The plan conceived, it was at once carried into execution. Magnus spent two nights and a day at the deserted barrack, where his joiner's bench and carpenter's tools had been left, and returned on the third night with a neatly made trap-door and a ladder that would bear his weight. And then, when he had sawed a square hole through the ceiling by the window, fitted the trap-door, screwed on the hinges, stationed the ladder at the proper angle, and stepped up this primitive staircase, and when his head and shoulders appeared in the woodcutter's room, there was a light on his face which had never been there before, and which was good to see. Then Hinze must try the steep stairway, which he found perfection. Fancy the convenience! Being able to see one another at any hour of the day or night without having to make the détour through the house! But the giant profited most by the contrivance, for he could sit on the floor of the attic chamber, his long legs disposed of down the ladder, and feel that his head shoulders had room enough and to spare. And so he would sit for hours, watching the little artist chiselling and graving, listening to the canary's singing, and showing his satisfaction with the entire performance by stertorous sounds plainly indicating delight. and His insatiable thirst for reading seemed suddenly appeased. For weeks the books packed so closely on the shelf were not touched and ostensibly served no other purpose than that of decoration for the bare, unpapered wall; and on his table lay but a single volume, a small Latin grammar from which he construed a paragraph daily. "For," said he in explanation, “in these dissertations on God and the universe so many strange words are brought into use that one cannot get at the root of the matter without a bit of Latin." His friend shrugged his shoulders. "Why are you burrowing into all that stuff? I never read. Experience has taught me that reading simply destroys my happiness and peace of mind. Books are written by average sized men and women for average sized men and women, not for people of our size, Since our world is not the world of those about us, what can their wisdom profit us? My mother taught me to read from fairy tales; they were within my comprehension. I could understand all about "Snow-white over the mountain's brow" and felt that she could understand me. Then when I grew older I picked up one day my mother's favorite book, a book over which she had often shed tears; it was by Goethe and called "The Sorrows of Werther." I could not sleep for that book, for weeks. Such love, such intensity of passion as is there portrayed, an ecstasy that overpowers, an intoxication that maddens. It seemed as though I had drunk of an elixir and my veins were running fire. Lotte with the heavenly face, the fair pure brow, was ever before my eyes, and my heart beat fast at the picture of a Lotte coming into my life, a woman whom I dared not love, for whom I dared not even shoot myself, for in either case I should simply make myself ridiculous. No, no; such stories were not for me. It was the last I ever read. Later, I took to reading histories, but they are not for such as I. Those who fight, and build states and advance art and science are men from five to six feet. What has a little shrimp like me to do with all these things? This much I learned that average sized humanity has always found life a struggle and a disappointment, and that the few wise men who have won in the fight come only at long intervals. So you see, I have avoided this sort of literature as well, and no credit to me, since I do not know the meaning of ennui. Tell me. does it really amuse you to read about these feats of diplomacy, these vast commercial enterprises, these self-demsions and fallacies with which, thank God, neither you nor I have anything in common?" "No," answered Magnus, with a grave frown, "I feel exactly as you do. I am really as indifferent to this worldhistory, as a stag-beetle would be toward the history of plant-lice, past, present and to come. Nevertheless, it does concern me to know what conclusions have been reached by philosophers as to the ultimate causes of the world and the destiny of the race. For, after all, we are part and parcel of it and even if we may not see into the reason of the whole cursed plan. we cannot remain absolutely indifferent to it. Or have you soared above all curiosity?" "Not as high as I should like," returned the little man. "I cannot deny that I have often fallen into the weakness of puzzling my poor head over ideas of the last judgment, and paradise and Abraham's bosom. A weakness I term it, for I know full well that no final conclusion can be reached by the wisest of the wise, let his brain be as large as yours or as small as my little billiard-ball. But I must tell you that I have never been unhappy because I could not peep behind the curtain. I have a pleasant feeling that I am here and can enjoy all the agreeable things despite the intrusion of the disagreeable; further, that I can be an honest fellow, and that no one can prevent that whether there be or be not a God and a devil as the Book says. You see, this miniature design in which I am cast serves a happy purpose; it makes the great puzzle of life so much the greater by comparison that I feel myself floating in immensity and do not try to grapple with it. And you, with that tower-like figure of yours, tell me truly, have you been able to peer over the hedge that shuts us off from ultimate knowledge?" "Perhaps a trifle more than you would think," answered Magnus, coloring slightly. "Not through my own wit truly. But there is a learned man by the name of Feuerbach, I have read everything that he has written because the first book of his, which I picked up quite by chance threw a wonderful light on the phenomena of nature. If you listen to him you will see very clearly that God, nature, man are not parts but form one tremendous whole. I would very much like you to read his books." "Thanks," said Hinze dryly. "We should eat only that for which we have an appetite. But if you wish you may give me in outline the sapient conclusions which your friend has reached. I am interested in them because of my interest in you, for I should like to get at your theories. So begin, in God's name. I have only a touch to add to this vignette." Magnus rubbed his forehead, seated himself more comfortably in the trapdoorway and prepared to pour out his wisdom. He had made but little progress, however, before he found himself floundering, and then for the first time he realized that to be impressed with another's thoughts and to express those thoughts one's self are two different things. The objections which Hinze, with his shrewd mother-wit, was continually and unconsciously as it were throwing in his way, produced a lamentable break-down on the part of Feuerbach's exponent, and reduced him to the admission that the principle was not so clear as he had thought it, or rather that his own clumsy demonstration was at fault. The next day, and for several days after he set himself zealously to work over his books, his object nothing less than the completion of a summary-full and exhaustive-of his master's philosophy; this to be read, point by point, to the little sceptic. The sceptic, when he felt the need of rest, would leave his work-table, sit on the top rung of the ladder and, whistling his favorite airs, look down at his painstaking friend with the air of one who has won the day and feels sorry for his adversary. Once a merry laugh interrupted the whistling. "What are you laughing at?" scowled Magnus. "It just struck me that you are situated now very much as I was before we joined forces, for you, too, have your canary twittering and chirping for you while you are at work, only yours wears a Turkish dressing-gown instead of yellow feathers and answers to the name of Theodore Hinze. Haven't you nearly finished your atheistic catechism?" The other shook his head. The work went forward slowly; pages of manuscript were thrown into a corner with an oath, and then the subject attacked from a different standpoint. More than once Hinze was on the point of persuading his friend away from his fruitless task, but he feared the consequences of telling him that the labor he had undertaken was too much for him. Besides, this occupation, unwholesome though it was, was far better than inactivity. But, when the loving eyes discerned that the friend was neither eating nor sleeping so well, that the cheeks were drawn and colorless and the nerves showing a strain, the owner of those watchful eyes took matters once again into his resolute little hands and succeeded in bringing about an indefinite postponement of the undertaking, and an immediate return to the old ways. So once again the nocturnal rambles were begun-they had been discontinued for some weeks owing to the severity of the weather-and the dwarf's heart beat high with pleasure as, perched on his friend's shoulder, he looked abroad on the snow-covered landscape lighted by the host of stars, was conscious of a huge but tender hand clasping his knees and felt the icicles of the frosty beard as it waved to and fro in the wintry breeze. Such nights drew forth confidences that would have been afraid of the daylight; and yet-the physical distance being so great between them-they were still Mr. Magnus and Mr. Hinze to each other. But winter made way for spring at last, and there was no longer need to seek fresh air without, for windows could be opened all day long and the soft sunshine filled attic and studio. Besides, the spring weather was alluring to people of ordinary stature, and the streets at night were too populous to encourage rambles on the part of the two friends, their novel mode of equalizing the distance between them attracting curious observation. So, solitary exercise was once more resorted to, all the more solitary by comparison with the pleasant walks of the winter, and when a rainy night kindly offered its protection, right gladly was it welcomed, the dwarf holding his little umbrella as carefully over his steed's head as his own, and as the complex body moved on its way it resembled nothing so much as a perambulating pine with dripping branches swaying in the night breeze. [TO BE CONTINUED.] From The Londou Quarterly Review. MISS KINGSLEY IN WEST AFRICA.' Miss Kingsley has stepped at once into the front rank of lady travellers. There is no volume in our vast library of travel and exploration quite like hers. This English lady travelled among cannibal tribes, and was more than once actually stalked by the natives as a novel head of game; she rose at the dead of night to fling water pots and threelegged stools at a leopard, she forded horrible swamps, and came to close quarters with elephants, hippos, crocodiles and gorillas, and she tells her story with a boisterous mirth and gaiety of heart, which shows how much she has enjoyed her adventures, and how eager she is for more. But this bulky volume is not merely packed with adventure and with grotesque incident; it is one of our most instructive books of travel. Its studies of fetish and witchcraft will, to most readers, be a revelation as to what life actually is in a West 1 Travels in West Africa. Congo Français, Corisco and Cameroons. By Mary H. Kingsley. With Illustrations. London: Macmillan & Co. 1897. African village, whilst its discussions of trade problems, of missionary methods, of polygamy, and of the liquor traffic, will arouse animated discussion and controversy. Miss Kingsley's somewhat authoritative pronouncements will not be accepted by Christian students, for she declares that "both polygamy and slavery are essential to the well-being of Africa;" but no one can fail to recognize the sincere desire for the well-being of the natives which marks her discussion of these burning questions. It was in 1893 that Miss Kingsley found herself free to spend five or six months in exploration. After due deliberation, she resolved to devote her holiformation was far from encouraging. day to West Africa. Her search for inThe majority of her friends knew nothing about the region she proposed to visit, but a percentage said, "Oh, you can't possibly go there; that's where Sierra Leone is, the white man's grave, you know." The doctors told her cheerfully, "Deadliest spot on earth." She gained her first idea of the social condition of the country from the missionary reports and journals. This prepared her for the pronouncement of an old friend who had lived seven years on the Coast: When you have made up your mind [he said] to go to West Africa, the very best thing you can do is to get it unmade again and go to Scotland instead; but if your intelligence is not strong enough to do so, abstain from exposing yourself to the direct rays of the sun, take four grains of quinine every day for a fortnight before you reach the Rivers, and get some introductions to the Wesleyans; they are the only people on the Coast who have got a hearse with feathers. A feeling of foreboding settled on Miss Kingsley as she left London for Liverpool, which was deepened by the steamboat agents, who frankly informed her that they did not issue return tickets by the West African lines of steamers. The process of her education is interesting and instructive. One by one ideas derived from books and other sources had to be revised or entirely given up. The greatest recantation |