homeliness and did not generally progress much farther.

Reginald withdrew his macaroon and sherry theory, and became
interested in a case of miniatures.

"That?" said the Princess; "that is the old Princess Lorikoff. She
lived in Millionaya Street, near the Winter Palace, and was one of
the Court ladies of the old Russian school. Her knowledge of people
and events was extremely limited; but she used to patronise every
one who came in contact with her. There was a story that when she
died and left the Millionaya for Heaven she addressed St. Peter in
her formal staccato French: 'Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff. Il
me donne grand plaisir a faire votre connaissance. Je vous en prie
me presenter au Bon Dieu.' St. Peter made the desired introduction,
and the Princess addressed le Bon Dieu: 'Je suis la Princesse Lor-
i-koff. Il me donne grand plaisir a faire votre connaissance. On a
souvent parle de vous a l'eglise de la rue Million.'"

"Only the old and the clergy of Established churches know how to be
flippant gracefully," commented Reginald; "which reminds me that in
the Anglican Church in a certain foreign capital, which shall be
nameless, I was present the other day when one of the junior
chaplains was preaching in aid of distressed somethings or other,
and he brought a really eloquent passage to a close with the remark,
'The tears of the afflicted, to what shall I liken them--to
diamonds?' The other junior chaplain, who had been dozing out of
professional jealousy, awoke with a start and asked hurriedly,
'Shall I play to diamonds, partner?' It didn't improve matters when
the senior chaplain remarked dreamily but with painful distinctness,
'Double diamonds.' Every one looked at the preacher, half expecting