pot where he had secured them, but hastily returned saying, in an
animated tone, somewhat unusual for him unless when excited:--

"Sahibs, the white steed is no longer there!" and he looked gravely at
us as he spoke.

"Well," said Denviers, as Hassan finished speaking, "this has been a
strange adventure from beginning to end. How could such a woman care to
spend her existence with those Dhahs? It seemed curious to me at the
first, but after seeing her and observing the contrast between her and
her subjects, I am still more surprised."

"The Dhahs are known throughout Ceylon," interposed Hassan, "for the
honour which they pay to their queen, and that may influence her to
remain with them; besides, they are a handsome race, very different to
such as this man," and he pointed to the Cingalese, who was again
vacantly staring at his plantation of palm trees.

"What do you think will become of the man who shot the Dhah, sahib?"
asked Hassan, as he turned to Denviers. My companion was silent for a
moment, then responded:--

"I really cannot say. He is doomed to die at sundown to-day, but I
daresay someone will intercede for him with the queen." Then, holding
out towards the Arab the arrow which we had found within the hut, he
continued:--

"Take care of that, Hassan, for if we are able I should like to keep it
as a memento of this event." The Arab examined it closely to see what
constituted its value, and Denviers, thinking that it might disappear
like sundry other lost treasures of ours, added: "It is a poisoned
arrow, and if put in that sash of yours might prove very dangerous."
Hassan understood the hint, as subsequent events proved, and, calling
upon Mahomet as a witness to his integrity under such trying
circumstances, carried it cautiously away and placed it among our
baggage.

_Illustrated Interviews._

XIX.--THE LORD BISHOP OF RIPON.

[Illustration: THE LORD BISHOP OF RIPON.

_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]

It was a long, cold journey to Ripon. When I reached the Palace the time
of five o'clock tea had long since passed--it only wanted half an hour
to the first dinner bell. But a cup of deliciously warming tea was ready
for me. This kindly thoughtfulness seemed to break down every barrier
calculated to make one feel anything but perfectly "at home." Then, when
the Bishop returned from a long day's work, the impressions gathered
over the refreshing cup with his wife became a reality. It may at