before me with an accent of concentrated
aversion; "yes, spirits; impalpable, civilised, genuine spirits, who
manifest themselves through recognised media, and are conformable to the
usages of the best drawing-room society--yes. But not demons, sir; not
Chinese devils in the Camden Road--no. Truth and Light at any cost, not
paganism. It's perfectly scandalous. Look at the mahogany table--ruined;
look at the wall-paper--conventional mackerels with a fishing-net
background, new this spring--soused; look at the Brussels carpet,
seventeen six by twenty-five--saturated!"

"I quite agree with you, Mr. Glidder," here interposed the individual
Pash. "I was watching you, sir, closely the whole time, and I have my
suspicions about how it was done. I don't know whether Mr. Glidder
has any legal redress, but I should certainly advise him to see his
solicitors to-morrow, and in the meantime--"

"He is my guest," exclaimed the one whose hospitality I was enjoying,
"and while he is beneath my roof he is sacred."

"But I do not think that it would be kind to detain him any longer in
his wet things," said another of the household, with pointed malignity,
and accepting this as an omen of departure, I withdrew myself, bowing
repeatedly, but offering no closer cordiality.

"Through a torn sleeve one drops a purse of gold," it is well said; and
as if to prove to a deeper end that misfortune is ever double-handed,
this incapable being, involved in thoughts of funereal density, bent
his footsteps to an inaccurate turning, and after much wandering was
compelled to pass the night upon a desolate heath--but that would be the
matter of another narrative.

With an insidious doubt whether, after all, the far-seeing Kwan
Kiang-ti's first impulse would not have been the most satisfactory
conclusion to the enterprise.

KONG HO.

LETTER VII

Concerning warfare, both as waged by ourselves and by a
nation devoid of true civilisation. The aged man and the
meeting and the parting of our ways. The instance of the one
who expressed emotion by leaping.

VENERATED SIRE,--You are omniscient, but I cannot regard the fear which
you express in your beautifully-written letter, bearing the sign of the
eleventh day of the seventh moon, as anything more than the imaginings
prompted by a too-lavish supper of your favourite shark's fin and peanut
oil. Unless the dexterously-elusive attributes of the genial-spoken
persons high in office at Peki