with the devotion of a true subject. In his manner he himself was
courteous, gentle, and so distinguished that I felt as though I were
enjoying, on intimate terms, an audience with one of the
prime-ministers of Europe.

And he, on his part, after the ridicule of the morning papers, to
have any one with outward seriousness accept his high office and
his king, was, I believe, not ungrateful.

I told him I wished to visit Trinidad, and in that I was quite
serious. The story of an island filled with buried treasure, and
governed by a king, whose native subjects were turtles and
seagulls, promised to make interesting writing.

The count was greatly pleased. I believe in me he saw his first
bona-fide settler, and when I rose to go he even lifted one of the
crosses of Trinidad and, before my envious eyes, regarded it
uncertainly.

Perhaps, had he known that of all decorations it was the one I most
desired; had I only then and there booked my passage, or sworn
allegiance to King James, who knows but that to-day I might be a
chevalier, with my name in the "Book of Gold"? But instead of
bending the knee, I reached for my hat; the count replaced the
cross in its pasteboard box, and for me the psychological moment
had passed.

Others, more deserving of the honor, were more fortunate. Among
my fellow-reporters who, like myself, came to scoff, and remained
to pray, was Henri Pene du Bois, for some time, until his recent