patron. "Yes. I think that you also alluded
to your having done something of the sort?"

"I did."

There was silence all round the table. Some
illustrious person broke it at last by saying,
"What a strange coincidence!"

"At all events," cried the master of the house,
"let us hear one of them. Come, Scrooper, you
spoke first."

"Mr. Postlethwaite, I insist upon having
your riddle," said the lady of the house, with
whom Mr. P. was the favourite.

Under these circumstances both gentlemen
paused, and then, each bursting forth suddenly,
there was a renewal of duet.

MR. PRICE SCROOPER. Why  }
does the Atlantic cable, in its     }
present condition—                    } Both speaking
MR. KERBY POSTLETHWAITE. } at once.
Why does the Atlantic cable,    }
in its present condition—         }

At this there was a general roar and commotion
among those present. "Our riddles appear to be
somewhat alike?" remarked Mr. Postlethwaite,
in a bitter tone, and looking darkly at my first
patron.

"It is the most extraordinary thing," replied
that gentleman, "that I ever heard of!"

"Great wits jump," said the illustrious person
who had previously spoken of an "extraordinary
coincidence."

"At any rate, let us hear one of them," cried
the host. "Perhaps they vary after the first
few words. Come, Scrooper."

"Yes, let us hear one of them to the end,"
said the lady of the house, and she looked at
Mr. Postlethwaite. This last, however, was sulky.
Mr. Price Scrooper took advantage of the
circumstance to come out with the conundrum in
all its integrity.

"Why," asked this gentleman once more, "is
the Atlantic cable, in its present condition, like
a schoolmaster?"

"That is my riddle," said Mr. Postlethwaite,
as soon as the other had ceased to speak. "I
made it myself."

"On the contrary, it is mine, I assure you,"
replied Mr. Scrooper, very doggedly. "I composed
it while shaving this morning."

Here again there was a pause, broken only by
interjectional expressions of astonishment on the
part of those who were present—led by the
illustrious man.

Again the master of the house came to the
rescue. "The best way of settling it," he said,
"will be to ascertain which of our two friends
knows the answer. Whoever knows the answer
can claim the riddle. Let each of these gentlemen
write down the answer on a piece of paper,
fold it up, and give it to me. If the answers
are identical, the coincidence will indeed be
extraordinary."

"It is impossible that any one but myself can
know the answer," remarked my first patron, as
he wrote on his paper and folded it.

My second patron wrote also, and folded. "The
answer," he said, "can only be known to me."

The papers were unfolded by the master of
the house, and read one after the other.

ANSWER written by Mr. Price Scrooper:
"Because it's supported by buoys (boys)."

ANSWER written by Mr. Kerby Postlethwaite:
"Because it's supported by buoys (boys)."

There was a scene. There were recriminations.
As I have said, on the following morning
both gentlemen visited me betimes. They had
not much to say after all. Were they not both
in my power?

The curious thing is, that from that time
dates the decline of my professional eminence.
Of course, both my patrons took leave of me
for ever. But I have also to relate that my
powers of riddling took leave of me also. My
mornings with the Dictionary became less and
less productive of results, and, only a fortnight
ago last Wednesday, I sent to a certain
weekly publication a rebus presenting the following
combination of objects: A giraffe, a haystack,
a boy driving a hoop, the letter X, a
crescent, a human mouth, the words "I wish," a
dog standing on its hind legs, and a pair of scales.
It appeared. It took. It puzzled the public.
But for the life of me I cannot form the remotest
idea what it meant, and I am ruined.

                                IV.
       NOT TO BE TAKEN FOR GRANTED.

To-day I, Eunice Fielding, have been looking
over the journal which I kept of the first few
weeks of my life in the world, after I left the
seclusion of the German Moravian school, where
I was educated. I feel a strange pity for myself,
the tender ignorant innocent school-girl, freed
from the peaceful shelter of the Moravian settlement,
and thrust suddenly into the centre of a
sorrowful household.

As I turn to this first page, there rises before
me, like the memory of a former life, a picture
of the noiseless grass-grown streets of the
settlement, with the old-fashioned dwellings, and
the quiet and serene faces looking out kindly
upon the troop of children passing to the church.
There is the home of the Single Sisters, with its
shining and spotless casements; and close beside
it, is the church where they and we worshipped,
with its broad central aisle always separating the
women from the men. I can see the girls in
their picturesque caps, trimmed with scarlet, and
the blue ribbons of the matrons, and the pure
white head-gear of the widows; the burial-ground,
where the separation is still maintained,
and where the brethren and the sisters lie in
undivided graves; and the kindly simple-hearted
pastor, who was always touched with the feeling
of our weakness. I see it all, as I turn over the
pages of my short journal, with just a faint longing
to return to the repose and innocent ignorance
which encircled me while I dwelt among them,
safely shut in from the sorrows of the world.