battles, reeled off explosive anecdotes, with unconquerable energy and sparkle and resolution, and kept the scared student alive and his pulses functioning. The long day wore to a close, and the pair, followed by their guards, went down to the great dining-room and took their seats.

“The suspense will be over before long, now,” sighed poor Alfred.

Just then a pair of Englishmen passed by, and one of them said, “So we’ll get no letters from Berlin to- night.”

Parrish’s breath began to fail him. The Englishmen seated themselves at a near-by table, and the other one said:

“No, it isn’t as bad as that.” Parrish’s breathing improved. “There is later telegraphic news. The accident did detain the train formidably, but that is all. It will arrive here three hours late to-night.”

Parrish did not get to the floor this time, for the Major jumped for him in time. He had been listening, and foresaw what would happen. He patted Parrish on the back, hoisted him out of his chair, and said, cheerfully:

“Come along, my boy, cheer up, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. I know a way out. Bother the passport; let it lag a week if it wants to, we can do without it.”

Parrish was too sick to hear him; hope was gone, Siberia present; he moved off on legs of lead, upheld by the Major, who walked him to the American legation, heartening him on the way with assurances that on his recommendation the minister wouldn’t hesitate a moment to grant him a new passport.

“I had that card up my sleeve all the time,” he said. “The minister knows me—knows me familiarly—chummed together hours and hours under a pile of other wounded at Cold Harbor; been chummies ever since, in spirit, though we haven’t met much in the body. Cheer up, laddie, everything’s looking splendid! By gracious! I feel as cocky as a buck angel. Here we are, and our troubles are at an end! If we ever really had any.”

There, alongside the door, was the trade-mark of the richest and freest and mightiest republic of all the ages: the pine disk, with the planked eagle spread upon it, his head and shoulders among the stars, and his claws full of out-of-date war material; and at that sight the tears came into Alfred’s eyes, the pride of country rose in his heart, “Hail Columbia” boomed up in his breast, and all his fears and sorrows vanished away; for here he was safe, safe! not all the powers of the earth would venture to cross that threshold to lay a hand upon him!

For economy’s sake the mightiest republic’s legations in Europe consist of a room and a half on the ninth floor, when the tenth is occupied, and the legation furniture consists of a minister or an ambassador with a brakeman’s salary, a secretary of legation who sells matches and mends crockery for a living, hired girl for interpreter and general utility, pictures of the American liners, a chromo of the reigning President, a desk, three chairs, kerosene-lamp, a cat, a clock, and a cuspidor with motto, “In God We Trust.”

The party climbed up there, followed by the escort. A man sat at the desk writing official things on wrapping- paper with a nail. He rose and faced about; the cat climbed down and got under the desk; the hired girl squeezed herself up into the corner by the vodka-jug to make room; the soldiers squeezed themselves up against the wall alongside of her, with muskets at shoulder arms. Alfred was radiant with happiness and the sense of rescue. The Major cordially shook hands with the official, rattled off his case in easy and fluent style, and asked for the desired passport.

The official seated his guests, then said: “Well, I am only the secretary of legation, you know, and I wouldn’t like to grant a passport while the minister is on Russian soil. There is far too much responsibility.”