t night, and obtained from him the
secret of his defence. Maguire, as a woman, had procured the situation
of cook in the house of Mr. W. H. B., and had substituted for the
original Samuel another, altogether similar, except that its base was
half an inch larger.

The captain further inquired what had been Malcolm's occupation in
early life, and how he had acquired so much knowledge of the gourmands
and feasts.

"I was cook at Baden Baden," said Malcolm, "at the B---- House. There
I met Count S., who took a fancy to me. I served also at the tables,
after that as waiter in the house, and keeping an eye open I was a
great help to the Count. He knew everything about the table, kitchen,
and the larder, and I remembered what he used to repeat night after
night, when a year or two ago I found Dick Humelbergius's book upon
the art of never breakfasting at home and always dining abroad. I
found everything recorded there, and that is pretty much the only book
I ever read. I can quote Latin, and know where to put it in, but what
the ---- the meaning of it is, I have no notion."

"Allow me further to inquire by what process or contrivance you can
slide a bolt on the opposite side of the door?"

"I paid $3500 for that information, and don't propose to part with
it."

"Then advise me what is best for me to do when I find a burglar in my
sleeping-room in the night time?"

"Do nothing, sir, unless you are hunting up a graveyard. We never
desire to maim or kill, but we can. I should be poorly provided or
skilled if I was not ready for such emergencies. As soon as the
burglar leaves your room, rise and light the gas, and he will trouble
you no more."

"One other question. Did you rob and then burn the Jenks house?"

"That is not a question to be answered, but I will say that I have a
drawing of the house and the location of every piece of furniture in
it, which is perfect."

To this day, only two of the persons who were present at the
dinner-party are aware of the history of the two worthies, the
Reverend Mr. Malcolm of Oxford and Maguire the butler of Mr. Bernon
Burchard.

THE MOUNT OF SORROW.

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.

_Harper's Magazine, June, 1883._

Never did anything seem fresher and sweeter than the plateau on which
we emerged in the early sunset, after defiling all day through the
dark deep mountain-sides in the rain.

We had promised Rhoda to assault her winter fastness whenever she
should summo