to have
sought out only that graceful structure for its blessing. And then
there was a dull rumble. It was the first omnibus,--the first throb in
the great artery of the reviving city. I looked up. The church was
again in shadow.

WITH THE ENTREES

"Once, when I was a pirate--!"

The speaker was an elderly gentleman in correct evening dress, the room
a tasteful one, the company of infinite respectability, the locality at
once fashionable and exclusive, the occasion an unexceptionable dinner.
To this should be added that the speaker was also the host.

With these conditions self-evident, all that good breeding could do was
to receive the statement with a vague smile that might pass for
good-humored incredulity or courteous acceptation of a simple fact.
Indeed, I think we all rather tried to convey the impression that our
host, when he WAS a pirate,--if he ever really was one,--was all that a
self-respecting pirate should be, and never violated the canons of good
society. This idea was, to some extent, crystallized by the youngest
Miss Jones in the exclamation, "Oh, how nice!"

"It was, of course, many years ago, when I was quite a lad."

We all murmured "Certainly," as if piracy were a natural expression of
the exuberance of youth.

"I ought, perhaps, explain the circumstances that led me into this way
of life."

Here Legrande, a courteous attache of the Patagonian legation,
interposed in French and an excess of politeness, "that it was not of a
necessity," a statement to which his English neighbor hurriedly
responded, "Oui, oui."

"There ess a boke," he continued, in a well-bred, rapid whisper, "from
Captain Canot,--a Frenchman,--most eenteresting--he was--oh, a fine man
of education--and what you call a 'slavair,'" but here he was quietly
nudged into respectful silence.

"I ran away from home," continued our host. He paused, and then added,
appealingly, to the two distinguished foreigners present: "I do not
know if I can make you understand that this is a peculiarly American
predilection. The exodus of the younger males of an American family
against the parents' wishes does not, with us, necessarily carry any
obloquy with it. To the average American the prospect of fortune and a
better condition lies OUTSIDE of his home; with you the home means the
estate, the succession of honors or titles, the surety that the
conditions of life shall all be kept intact. With us the children who
do not expe