siasts in our love for ornithology; we found new inspiration
in the democracy of our common interests.

As for me, I chatted with my fellows, feeling no restraint myself and
perceiving none. The King of Finland and I discussed his latest
monograph on the speckled titmouse, and I was glad to agree with the
King in all his theories concerning the nesting habits of that
important bird.

Sir Peter Grebe, a large, red gentleman in tweeds, read us some notes
he had made on the domestic hen and her reasons for running ahead of a
horse and wagon instead of stepping aside to let the disturbing
vehicle pass.

The Crown-Prince of Monaco took issue with Sir Peter; so did the Baron
de Becasse; and we were entertained by a friendly and marvellously
interesting three-cornered dispute, shared in by three of the most
profound thinkers of the century.

I shall never forget the brilliancy of that argument, nor the modest,
good-humored retorts which gave us all a glimpse into depths of
erudition which impressed us profoundly and set the seal on the bonds
which held us so closely together.

Alas, that the seal should ever have been broken! Alas, that the
glittering apple of discord should have been flung into our
midst!--no, not flung, but gently rolled under our noses by the gloved
fingers of the lovely Countess d'Alzette.

"Messieurs," said the fair Countess, when all present, excepting she
and I, had touched upon or indicated the subjects which they had
prepared to present to the congress--"messieurs mes confreres, I have
been requested by our distinguished chairman, the Crown-Prince of
Monaco, to submit to your judgment the subject which, by favor of the
King of the Belgians, I have prepared to present to the International
Scientific Congress."

She made a pretty courtesy as she named her own sovereign, and we all
rose out of respect to that most austere and moral ruler the King of
Belgium.

"But," she said, with a charming smile of depreciation, "I am very,
very much afraid that the subject which I have chosen may not meet
with your approval, gentlemen."

She stood there in her dainty Parisian gown and bonnet, shaking her
pretty head uncertainly, a smile on her lips, her small, gloved
fingers interlocked.

"Oh, I know how dreadful it would be if this great congress should be
compelled to listen to any hoax like that which Monsieur de Rougemont
imposed on the British Royal Society," she said, gravely; "and because
the sub