Today's Stichomancy for George W. Bush

sold to the Arabs. Being advertised by him of the danger he was in, I laid claim to him, without knowing the difficulties which this way of proceeding would bring upon me. The governor sent me word that my servant should be restored to me upon payment of sixty piastres; and being answered by me that I had not a penny for myself, and therefore could not pay sixty piastres to redeem my servant, he informed me by a renegade Jew, who negotiated the whole affair, that either I must produce the money or receive a hundred blows of the battoon. Knowing that those orders are without appeal, and always punctually executed, I prepared myself to receive the correction I was threatened with, but unexpectedly found the people so charitable

knocking at my door, and be off."

"Open!" spluttered the postilion, loudly; "open for Monsiegneur the Marquis de Beaupertuys."

"Ah!" cried the voice above. "Ten thousand pardons, my lord. I did not know--the hour is so late--at once shall the door be opened, and the house placed at my lord's disposal."

Inside was heard the clink of chain and bar, and the door was flung open. Shivering with chill and apprehension, the landlord of the Silver Flagon stood, half clad, candle in hand, upon the threshold.

David followed the Marquis out of the carriage. "Assist the lady," he was ordered. The poet obeyed. He felt her small hand tremble as he

dear; as prettily marked as their beautiful grandmother Tadjie, and too cunning for words.

"You have made us a great deal of trouble, Betsy," said Tattine, "but they are such beauties we forgive you," whereat Betsy looked up so affectionately that Tattine added, "and perhaps some day I'll forgive you about that rabbit, since Mamma says it's natural for you to hunt them." But Betsy, indifferent creature, did not care a fig about all that; her only care was to watch her little puppies stowed away one by one on fresh sweet-smelling straw, in the same kennel where Doctor and his brothers and sisters had enjoyed their puppy-hood, and then to snuggle up in a round ball close beside them. They were Betsy's puppies for a certainty. There had been no doubt of that from the

"The Russian thing. To go to Vienna, where we get our passports, and then to Cracow, and through to Kief, which they say is awfully well worth while--and next Moscow--and so on to St. Petersburg, in time to see the ice break up. It is only in winter that you see the characteristic Russia: that one has always heard. With the furs and the sledges, and the three horses galloping over the snow--it seems to me it must be the best thing in Europe--if you can call Russia Europe. That's the way it presents itself to me--but then I was brought up in a half-Arctic climate, and I love that sort

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