Though she turned her charming bead, with all its fairy-like pins and posy of azaleas discreetly aside, it was evident from her crimsoning cheek that she was struggling with suppressed laughter.

Fearing some indiscretion, the stranger hastily turned to the oracle again, and then remained in the silence of consternation. For it is disconcerting, when one imagines one has put forward a complimentary little speech to a bewitching lady, to find one has merely proffered a request for three boiled eggs. The discovery overcame his gravity; he also broke into an amused laugh, while she, covering her face with little sunburnt hands, rocked to and fro, in uncontrolled merriment.

"The devil!" he exclaimed at last. There was mischief in O Hara San's black eyes, as peeping through her fingers, she replied demurely, "I, too, a little can speak English."

"By Jove!" The offending guide was thrust into oblivion, and relief appeared visible on the young man's face. "That's awfully clever of you; do you think you'd mind coming out of that glorified pond, and talking to me for a short time? Its rather lonely up among these solitudes." O Hara San, disdaining the offer of his hand, gathered together her flowery burden, and stepping daintily across the stones, stood in lowly obeisance before him.

"Don't, please!" he ejaculated hurriedly. 'Surely we've bowed enough for to-day. Couldn't we find a seat somewhere, and be comfortable?" Comprehending the meaning, if not the words, she sank gracefully to the ground, and producing a fan from her sash, sat languidly waving it, more than ever a painted figure off a Japanese fan. No other mode of No other mode of resting being apparent, the Englishman was obliged to follow her

example, so he also seated himself upon the grass, and contrived to appear unconscious of the ridiculous position.

Above them stretched the sky, softly blue and cloudless; all around were the quaint shrubs and flowering plants of a Japanese garden; and below, far down the gully, sounded the restless murmur of the rushing torrent. Monster stone dragons, spouting water from their distorted mouths, were grouped about the lake; flaming blossoms hung from many a gnarled bough, and on a miniature rustic bridge a tame stork stood dozing. It was all very Oriental, very unreal, and in imagination transported one back to the childish days of Arabians Nights and enchanted princesses; the stranger gazed about with regretful pleasure.

"Perhaps if you tell me your name, we might get along better," he suggested at length, as O Hara San, absently fanning herself, appeared lost in thought. "O Hara San? San means Honourable Miss, doesn't it? it? Whose is this garden, O Hara San, and what are you doing here?"

Had her command of English been greater the retort would have been obvious, but as it was, she returned with Eastern obedience, "It is Matsomoto's, my father's, garden, there our home." She pointed to where in the distance a modest dwelling rose above the trees, but the Englishman, already acquainted with the inconveniences attending matting floors and sliding panels, showed no desire to investigate further.

"How did you come?" she enquired in turn, carrying the war into the enemy's country. "So many people do not; it is very apart."

"I came because I heard a fairy singing," he answered whimsically, "because my room at the hotel is hot, and the morning beckoned me

The word bread arrested her attention. "You are hungry?" she asked anxiously. Perhaps after all he really desired those boiled eggs; how unkind she had been! Visions of sugar cakes and saké,1 rose before her hospitable mind's eye, as she eagerly awaited his answer. The young man laughed, but but coloured too. "No," he replied; "what I crave for, is not food, not even food for thought-I've plenty of that in all conscience." He turned towards her suddenly.

don't; you live on romance out here, not on hard cash, while I-I live on tenter-hooks," he finished ruefully.

O Hara San, arranging her bouquet, touching each separate flower with caressing fingers, could not follow this monologue; but she gathered that the Englishman was disturbed in mind, and she looked at him with pitying eyes. It is of no use to trouble one's self over the trials of this world; make the best of what you have, or you may get worse hereafter. Such was O Hara San's creed, and the creed of her country; but because sympathy must have some expression if words are denied, she snapped off a purple blossom and shyly proffered it. He took the little offering with a smile, grateful for the prompting thought, and since it was too large for a button-hole, laid it carefully between the leaves of the guidebook.

"Do you know that conventionally speaking I've no right to be here, that I'm a mere trespasser, and should be dismissed with a caution? But this is not the land of convention, thank heaven! and I may talk to you simply because it pleases me, and not because politeness demands it, while you you've never heard of Mrs. Grundy, and you don't understand these knotty points, little O Hara San, but you smile very sweetly, and listen, and that's a great deal in this selfish world. Do you ever know," he went on dreamily, speaking half to himself, "what it is to want money, to be hunted from pillar to post by bills, to have creditors clamouring, and mess accounts overdue, to be up to your ears in debt?" He broke off with a short laugh. "Of course you

'The wine of the country.

"Ayame," said O Hara San softly, with a pretty blush.

"Meaning iris," he translated musingly, "Goddess of the Rainbow and Spirit of Discord; an unlucky gift O Hara San, let us hope it is not an ill-omen-"

My sakes! Whatever are you doing there anyway?"

The shrill tones sounded startlingly from above their heads, and the young man with a frown, rose hastily to his feet muttering sulkily, "The ill-omen fulfilled!"

But O Hara San, unpricked by conscience, sat with serenely folded hands, gazing up at the bamboo hedge from whence the voice proceeded.

"I knew you were fond of prospecting, but I didn't guess you'd get as far as this," it continued, the drawl and accent unmistakable. "Isn't there a proverb in your country, about one man stealing a hearthorse I mean-while another mayn't

you my guide-book to carry yesterday; have you it with you?"

"Your guide to you a kingdom is,'" misquoted Carlton lightly, "all important as a parson's bible or a mariner's compass. I can't understand the fascination myself; it's not even useful as a dictionary." Recollecting the incident of an hour ago he paused, but his companion still knitting her brows over the missing word, was not attending.

"Ish-Is-bother! Do look Wilfrid," so, supremely unconscious and anxious to propitiate, Carlton turned to the desired page, and there, true emblem of discord, lay the iris.

Miss Van Decken flushed with par

ing!"

donable annoyance. "Very touch-
she remarked mockingly.
"Have you any more love-tokens?
What a pity it wasn't a forget-me-
not, and then you might have remem-
bered. My word, you lose no time!"
and she tossed her head angrily.
Carlton irritably flung the flower
from him. That morning's work had
cost him dear, yet his conscience
smote him. What if O Hara San
came this way, and saw her little
offering cast aside? How distressed
she would be! In imagination he
could see the grieved eyes, the
trembling mouth, the patient wonder
at "these English." Had he fol-
lowed his inclination, he would have
retraced his steps and rescued the
fallen flag, but, soldier though he
was, he shrank from the fire of the
American's sarcasm, and so, like
many another generous impulse, it
was wasted.

Despising himself for this mock love-making, thinly disguised though it were, cursing the fate that made the quest of the almighty dollar a necessity, out of temper with the world in general, he strode silently along; yet in spite of all, he found time to marvel afresh at the dense

No. 537.-VOL. XC.

shadow of the cryptomerias, the tender bloom upon the distant hills, for though one may be ill at ease, the artist's heart asserts itself, and Nature is ever ready with her sympathy to those who value it.

Plumes of feathery bamboo swayed airily in the breeze, and sunlight filtered through the leafy shelter, throwing dancing patterns all across the road. the road. Now and again a troop of cheerful labourers passed on their way to the rice-fields, or a 'rickshaw, carrying a delicately painted little lady, rattled by, adding local colour to the faintly tinted scene. As they neared the village the native life became more apparent. Children cried merry" O'Hayo's" after them, and many a pretty face peeped from between the sliding panels of the houses. Vendors of curios sat serenely on their matting floors awaiting possible purchasers; women were washing at the wayside stream, or pattering on noisy clogs about the streets; the world was all astir, and the charm of early morning, like the charm of a waking dream, was fading fast.

Carlton and his companion climbed the long hill leading to the mountain hotel. Hostilities had ceased; for her at least the sun was shining, and the bright vivacious face was all smiles.

Far away behind them the purple iris lay withering in the dust.

II.

"Now wait both of you, while I study this right away. I won't set foot inside till I know just what I'm to see."

Mrs. Van Decken, bonny, buxom, and popularly known as "Momma," adjusted her pince-nez, and deliberately opened her guide-book. They had toiled up the steep steps to the temple of Inari-yama, and now paused

Р

on the summit to draw breath and admire the view.

Before them towered the great building, calm and stately, bearing upon its pillars and fantastic carvings the impress of tradition stamped with the memories of the past; behind stretched the avenue of cryptomerias, solemn with shadow like the nave of a cathedral, and all around were the blue hills, softly melting to the sky. Carlton's pony, and the 'rickshaws with their attendant coolies, remained beyond the sacred precincts of the gate, the bearers' quaint dresses and lithe, brown limbs, adding the finishing touch to the strange and foreign surroundings. Occasionally a cricket chirped shrilly in the grass, or a silver-winged insect flashed past with musical hum; otherwise the quietude was unbroken.

Miss Van Decken, resigning herself to circumstance, unfurled her umbrella, and prepared to listen at length. Carlton stood restlessly swinging his riding-whip, with gloomy dissatisfaction on his brow. These expeditions were among the penalties of his position as the fair American's future husband, and must be borne with the best grace possible; but patience was a virtue unknown to him, and he waited with ill-concealed vexation.

The poetry and romance of the temples appealed keenly to his imaginative nature; alone, he would have spent hours wandering around the charmed circle, musing on the mystery of the East, absorbing the spirit of the scene, regardless of printed information. This practical, cut and dried method of doing things grated on his nerves, and irritated him at times beyond endurance. "Once we're married, into the fire goes every dashed guide-book," he thought savagely, while his prospective mother-in-law, in blissful igno

after

rance of his feelings, turned
page
page in laborious search. Osaka, the
Japanese courier, had seated himself
on the grass, and was leisurely
tossing pebbles and twigs down the
long vista of steps. He was accus-
tomed to the vagaries of Madam,
and regarded these days as holidays,
a trifle dull, but still pleasantly idle;
the ladies were kind, and the officer
gentleman, though apt to grow testy
over the lacing of his boots, was not
inconsiderate. Osaka, on the whole,
enjoyed these outings, and looked
upon the lengthy dissertations as part
of the amusement.

"Yes, here we are."
Carlton sighed.

"Now, listen. 'The Temple of
Inari-yama is situated to the west of
Kumi-kuti, and is approached by a
grove of cryptomerias [that's correct].
It measures two hundred and ten feet,
by one hundred and ninety-five, and
covers nearly one thousand three
hundred tsubu of ground. It is de-
dicated to Kobo Kwannon, and is
over six hundred years old.' Imagine,
Mamie! Wilfrid, did you ever? I
must memorise that sentence anyway.
'It is dedicated to Kobo Kwan-
non-" "The boy is waiting to take
your shoes," broke in Carlton when
he could trust himself to speak, while
inwardly his raging thoughts ran:
"My good woman, I'd like to pitch
you and your confounded Kobo
Kwannon down the gully. Heavens !
if man was ever punished for his folly,
I am!"

Miss Van Decken, meanwhile, had been divesting herself of her foot-gear, and now stood laughing at the absurd appearance she presented in the loose woollen slippers immortalised by custom. For these spotless matting floors must not be polluted by touch of shoe-leather; the dust must be literally shaken off, ere one dare cross the threshold. This law is