into drawing harsh conclusions from what, if left
unexplained, may doubtless have a singular appearance.

It is true that, up to the present, I have not been able to learn that
any of those fatal portraits have absolutely been exposed for sale,
though I direct my trembling steps almost every day to Regent Street,
and search the windows of the Stereoscopic Company with furtive and
foreboding eyes, dreading to be confronted with presentments of
myself--Bedell Gruncher, 'Vitriol,' the great critic!--lying across a
chair in a state of collapse, sucking my thumb in a Gainsborough hat,
or bestriding a ridiculous wooden horse with my face towards its tail!

But they cannot be long in coming out now; and my one hope is that these
lines may appear in print in time to forestall the prejudice and scandal
which are otherwise inevitable. At all events, now that the world is in
possession of the real facts, I am entitled to hope that the treatment
to which I have been subjected will excite the indignation and sympathy
it deserves.

_PALEFACE AND REDSKIN_

A COMEDY-STORY FOR GIRLS AND BOYS

ACT THE FIRST

WHERE IS THE ENEMY?

It was a very hot afternoon, and Hazel, Hilary, and Cecily Jolliffe were
sitting under the big cedar on the lawn at The Gables. Each had her
racket by her side, and the tennis-court lay, smooth and inviting, close
by; but they did not seem inclined to play just then, and there was
something in the expression of all three which indicated a common
grievance.

'Well,' said Hazel, the eldest, who was nearly fourteen, 'we need not
have excited ourselves about the boys' holidays, if we had only known.
They don't give us much of their society--why, we haven't had one single
game of cricket together yet!'

'And then to have the impudence to tell us that they didn't care much
about _our_ sort of cricket!' said Hilary, 'when I can throw up every
bit as far as Jack, and it takes Guy three overs to bowl me! It's
beastly cheek of them.'

'_Hilary!_' cried Cecily, 'what would mother say if she heard you talk
like that?'

'Oh, it's the holidays!' said Hilary, lazily. 'Besides, it is a shame!
They would have played with us just as they used to, if it hadn't been
for that Clarence Tinling.'

'Yes,' Hazel agreed, 'he hates cricket. I do believe that's the reason
why he invented this silly army, and talked Jack and Guy into giving up
everything for it.'

'They haven't any will of their own, poor thi