st, the Clab ea of my friend Ralph Pinkernell. Tt was a bb June day, und the list drops of an ice nectar known im the Central Realm "skim" were bedewing the Sabra of my throat when h tapped me on the shoulder and said: **Jobskin old man, along have pot-luck."" brisk tamilian (for we introduced five minutes before.) "I nevertheless accepted, king something frank and hearty in his er, Arrived at his chambers, Ralph retired for " hurried consultation with his cook, while T glanced around the spacious apartment that was drawing- and dining-4 to divine from the nest The furniture, solid comfortable, a miscellaneous ai that suggested auction-roome, 'Pent bats screwed in " press, stray cartridges, cricket-gloves, a paddle standing in" corner, betrayed some ut his tastes plainly enough, as did the long file of pipes which with a' dozen framed photos of women made up the garniture of his mantelpiece, a couple of little hand-bucks lying on a chair beside me, "How to Play Poker," and " Aanateur Theatricals," and the handsome pointer who uneviled himself from his cushion and came to make friends with me. Ona very business-like writing-table at the end of the room were pens and ink, Chinese writing materials, several repellent
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.