A Drake by George!. Trevena John

as a present for his sweetheart; but, as he couldn't carry them about, he sold them to me for ten shillings. An American gentleman offered me a hundred pounds for the pair, but I wouldn't part with them for five times that amount. These blue dragons are covered with a lustre known as glaze, which is now a lost art. This portfolio of pictures also comes from China: there are more than fifty, and each represents one of the various kinds of torture commonly practised by Chinese magistrates upon people who are brought before them, charged with such offences as forgetting to pay local rates or being polite to foreigners. Here is the usual punishment for omitting to lick the dust when a big-pot passes—being impaled upon three stakes above a slow fire without the option of a fine."

      "Nice pictures to look at on a Sunday evening," said Squinting Jack.

      "The curiously twisted spike, which bears a close resemblance to iron, and is indeed almost as heavy as that metal, was given me by an Egyptian fellah, who said he had discovered it in the Assyrian desert," resumed the Captain with somewhat less confidence. "It is supposed to be a horn of that extinct animal the unicorn, but I don't guarantee it. According to a mate who sailed with me once—a chap who knew a lot about animals, and had taken prizes at dog shows—the unicorn had a hollow horn, and this, you see, is solid."

      "The Egyptian fellow had you, Captain. It is iron, and there's a mark upon it that looks to me like a crown," declared the Wallower in Wealth, who had commenced prosperity as a wheelwright.

      "Don't that go to show it is genuine? Ain't the lion and unicorn the—the motto of the crown of England?" demanded the Yellow Leaf.

      "The beast wouldn't have a crown stamped on its horn when he drawed breath," said Squinting Jack.

      "I b'ain't so certain. I ha' seen rummy marks on a ram's horn," answered the Gentle Shepherd.

      "There are wonderful things in Nature," said the Captain. "When I was off the coast of South Africa, I watched a big fish flap out of the water, climb a tree, stuff itself with fruit, and then return to its native element. It may be the unicorn was adopted as one of the supporters of the Royal Arms, because it had this mark of a crown upon the base of its horn."

      "Some volk ses there never wur no unicorns," remarked the Dumpy Philosopher.

      "Plenty believe creation started after they were born," retorted the Captain sharply. "The lion and the unicorn are the royal beasts of England—any child knows that—and when all the lions have been shot, lots of people will say there never were such creatures. If unicorns never existed, how is it we possess pictures of the beast? How do we know what 'twas like? How do we know its name, and how do we know it had only one horn bang in the middle of its forehead?"

      "That's the way to talk to unbelievers," chuckled the Yellow Leaf. "I make no manner of doubt there wur plenty of unicorns; aye, and lions and four footed tigers, and alligators too, in this here parish of Highfield, though I don't seem to able call any of 'em to mind."

      "'Tis an iron spike sure enough, and 'twur made in Birmingham," whispered the Wallower in Wealth to his nearest neighbour.

      "The little creature in this glass case is a stuffed mermaid, supposed to be about three months old," the Captain continued, indicating a cleverly faked object, composed of the upper part of a monkey and the tail of a hake. "I did not see it alive myself, but was told by the inhabitant of Sumatra, from whom I bought it, he had found it upon a rock at low tide crying piteously for its mother. He took it home, and tried to rear it upon ass's milk, but the poor little thing did not live many days. It was too young to show any intelligence."

      "The ass's milk might ha' made it feel a bit silly like," suggested Squinting Jack.

      "Don't it seem a bit like slavery to ha' bought it?" asked a tender-hearted matron.

      "And a bit blasphemous to ha' stuffed the poor mite?" complained another.

      "Oh no, my dear ladies. These creatures do not possess immortal souls," replied the Captain.

      "How be us to tell?" inquired the Dumpy Philosopher.

      "Only creatures who can pray possess immortal souls," declared the Captain piously. "When we pray we kneel. Mermaids cannot kneel because they have no legs."

      "There used to be a picture in the schuleroom of a camel on his knees," began Squinting Jack; but the Captain hurried off to the next object of interest, which was a snuffbox composed of various woods inlaid with mother of pearl.

      "A tragic and mysterious relic of the French Revolution, found in the hand of a Duke while his body was being removed for burial," he said in his most impressive manner. "This box is supposed to possess a most remarkable history, but it has not been opened since the original owner's death."

      "Will ye please to go on and tell us all about it," requested the Yellow Leaf.

      "It is the mystery of this box that nobody knows its history," came the answer.

      "Why don't ye open it, Captain?"

      "The second mystery of this box is that the secret of opening it is lost. It is alike on both sides, so that you cannot tell which is top and which bottom."

      "I'd open 'en quick enough," said the Wallower in Wealth.

      "And smash they lovely pearls all to pieces!" cried a lady indignantly.

      "'Twould be a pity to spoil a couple of mysteries," said Squinting Jack.

      "That's how I feel about it. As it is, this snuffbox is a genuinely romantic antique; but if we discovered its history—which I was assured by some gentleman in Paris is most astounding, although entirely unknown—it might lose a considerable part of its value. I have charged my wife to present this box to the President of the French Republic after I am taken from her. She is not bound to present it personally, but may either entrust it to the registered post, or hand it to his Excellency the French Ambassador at his official residence by appointment, whichever course may be most pleasing to her," said the Captain handsomely.

      A number of curiosities sealed up in bottles were exhibited, and then the Wallower in Wealth delivered a little speech he had prepared beforehand. He began by mentioning that his cottage stood near the garden of Windward House, and went on to explain how, upon certain evenings, when shadows were lengthening, his soul had been soothed by distant strains of sweetest music. His wife, who had no ear for harmony, ventured to attribute these sounds to the rival choirs of cats on the roof and owls in the trees; his mother-in-law, who was superstitious, gave all credit to the pixies; his daughter, who was sentimental, had gone so far as to suggest angelic visitors. But he was convinced the sounds proceeded from Windward House. And he concluded by imploring the Captain to entertain the company by a few selections upon his gramophone.

      Captain Drake replied that nothing so commonplace had ever disturbed the silence of his abode. "Oriental music of the most classical description is played here," he said, approaching a large black case upon gilded legs and throwing back the lid. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is the musical box, formerly in the possession of an Indian potentate, and bestowed upon me in return for services which I could not mention without appearing to glory in my sterling nobility of character, which was one of the phrases employed during the ceremony of presentation. The Maharajah offered me the choice of three gifts—a young lady, an elephant, and this musical box. Being already married, and having no room in my ship for a bulky pet, I—somewhat to the astonishment of my generous benefactor—selected the musical box. There are only two others like it in this world; one being in the possession of the Dalai Lama of Tibet, while the other unfortunately reposes at the bottom of the Atlantic. The small figures dressed as Chinamen—these boxes were made in China, but the art is now lost—play upon various instruments after the fashion of a military band. In a small room such as this the music is somewhat harsh; but when heard from the garden it is, as our friend here has said, exquisitely beautiful; the more so when the parrots sing in unison."

      "I thought parrots was like women; they just talked," said the Dumpy Philosopher.

      "They don't sing like nightingales," the Captain admitted. "But their notes blend very pleasantly with instrumental music. Before