nd thereby punish those who _have_ come
for the fault of those who _have not_. Still, I repeat it, constant
repetition is a dreadful thing. Fancy playing 'Pinafore,' as I did, for
700 nights without missing a single performance!"

[Illustration]
[Illustration]

As he said this Mr. Grossmith led the way out of the room in which we
had been talking, and which he told me was his own special sanctum,
"into which no one is ever allowed to come except my wife, for anyone
rushing in here when I was composing or thinking out a sketch would
inevitably drive every single idea from my head," and we went upstairs
together. Here in the drawing-room he set himself down to a spinet which
bore the date of 1770, and he struck a few exceedingly sweet-sounding,
if slightly tinkling, chords from it. "And this," said he, "is the
oldest _Broadwood_ in England. You can see for yourself the date--1795."
Downstairs he showed me a beautiful model of a steam engine, upon which
he was enabled to ride, and which he could drive himself. "I thoroughly
understand locomotives," said he, as he pointed to a shelf full of all
the works upon the subject which he had been able to discover.

* * * * *

A BLIND BEGGARMAN

BY FRANK MATHEW.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. PEGRAM.

"Left dark among mine enemies."

Long ago, the Fairies often stole children; they chose the prettiest,
and carried them to Fairyland--the Kingdom of Tyrnanoge,--leaving
hideous Changelings instead. In those days no man had call to be ashamed
of his offspring, since it a baby was deformed or idiotic it was known
to be a Changeling.

[Illustration: "THE PIG WAS A FRIENDLY ANIMAL."]

It is sixty years now since old Mike Lonergan, who lived in a hovel in
Moher Village, was robbed of his child. It was his wife first found out
the theft, for she had seen her unborn son in a dream, and he was
beautiful; so when she saw the sickly and ugly baby, she knew that he
was not hers, and that the Fairies had stolen the child of her dream.
Many advised her to roast the Changeling on the turf-fire, but the White
Witch of Moher said it would be safer to leave him alone. So the child
Andy grew up as a stranger in his father's hovel and had a dreary time
of it, he got little food and no kindness. The Lonergans gave him
neither offence nor welcome, hoping that he might see fit to go home to
Tyrnanoge and yet bear them no grudge. He grew up an odd wizened little
w