Tt was not until Saturday that I decided to pay a visit to the Union Church Bazaar. Many were the tal told mo of the wiles of the far robbers. How they threw dust on one's back and demanded exorbitant payment to brush it off; how they unblushingly took chits for their wares when pockets were empty. My experiences will be found below. I cannot refrain from telling the story I heard before going of one who wont to the gipsy's tent and emerged with blanched' face and starting eyes. His friend had preceded him and told all he know of his past life and when the fortune-toller made use of her information the effect was startling, to say the least. J had heard so much about the Bazaar from my friends that I felt it was necessary for a strong-minded person like myself to go there as an example to others of what firmness can do. Accordingly I put a few. dollars: into my pocket and, the evening: being somewhat chilly, donned my coat, Alas! it was my coat which Jed to my first breaking my noble resolves.. No sooner had I reached the entrance-than I was pounced upon by two ladies, who ro-lieved me of both coat and hat and informed me that the cloak room charges wore twenty cents. I paid up meekly and felt thankful that I was allowed to retain my basis. Having been entrapped once I determined that I would not be caught again, and began'to congratulate myself when I successfully resisted the charms of two sirens who were intent on making me ill with an ice cream. I drew a thrilling picture of the evil effect ice creams always hed on my constitution and_pathotically appealed to their better feelings not to make mo suffer so soon in the cause of charity. They had hardly loft mo when I found my way barred by a buxom lass smoking a cigar, who invited mo to visit the Art Gallery. The programme handed to me seemed so attractive that I hesitated—and was lost. On payment of fifty cents I was conducted to a booth at the side of the village, admitted, and left to my own thoughts. "At first it seemed as. though mistake had been made; instead of the magnificent works of art I had expected to see I saw before mea miscellaneous collection of kitchen utensils and groceries. Fooling I had been deceived I was about to make my exit when a young lady stopped me and implored me to look at my catalogue. The various articles displayed were num-bored, and the first object which caught my eye was a bowl of mint-sauce, On referring to the catalogue I found the picture against No. 82 was "Wait. ing for the Lamb." I cannot go into further details; suffice it to say that the collection included 136 "works of art." left the gallery, only to find my fair guide outside, and taking no refusal she conducted me to the fortune-tellers' tent. I thought that here, at any rate, I was safe, as I had never soon the fortune-teller before. I was shown into dimly lighted tent, The fortune-teller at once seized my hand, and began by informing mo I should live to be eighty-five. (Not if there are many bazaars like this, I thonghe.) At this point I had firmly to request my guide to leave the tent. Might not this Cassandra state exactly what I had in my pockets and mind, and thus disarm me of further resolves? I was next informed I was bad-tempered, a spendthrift, ambitious, and that I would be married ice. I' indignantly repudiated these us and Cassandra thereupon said she would seo what the cards foretold. Worse still! I was very bad-tempered and consequently would have. business troubles. The machination of a fair man and a dark woman were also disclosed.
Other traits of my character (or rather Lack of character) were told mo and I was congratulating myself that my ordeal was over when Iwas pounced upon by a second Sibyl, who insisted on having an impression of my thumb and my signature. Thoughts of criminal identification flitted through my brain, and they were not dispelled until, later in the evening, I received a letter through the bazaar post saying that my signature showed I-bad noble thoughts and that I was fond of study.
As I emerged from the mystic tent I heard a deafening noise. proceeding from the opposite side of the hall. Botaking myself thither I found my old friend, Captain Barley, vigorously be-labouring a big drum, while Mr. Brady who, the programme says, "is disguised gentleman but may be known when he opens his mouth," was calling out: sundry items of information through 8".. trumpet, I really think the programme was rather hard on Mr. Brady, and I am sure his disguise would aot have been penetrated but for this somewhat unnecessary information.
Mr. Brady demanded and: received a dollar from me before.I was allowed to enter the door: by': which ho was standing, and really: I. felt that the tableaux vivants-an well worth the money. The:; child who took the part of Lord Fauntleroy acted most charmingly and never moved a muscle during the tableaux, The potformance was over all too soon. The next dollar I lost was paid as entrance money to the nigger show, which was all cellent. "Bones" kept us all in roars of laughter and "Sambo" was also very funny.
After the niggers, juijitsu. I mot Mr, Brady at the entrance trumpeting out' the information that the exhibition showed a special method of killing editors, Ishall not give it away, but merely say this show was well worth seeing. I had not time or money to go to the concert, photographic or shooting gallery but I hear that Mr. Premyslav gave unexpected distinction to the former, in spite of the fact that the fortune-teller had previously discovered from his hand that he had "no taste for music."
Time was flying—so wore my dollars and resolves. Nood I recount how irresistable nymphs forced me to buy picture frames, candies, pinafores, and other 8 Thad not the least desire to possess. With a solitary dollar in my pocket I made my way sadly to the door and reclaimed my coat and hat. Once again I found my way barred. Did I want to the hat-trimming competition I was a celibate and took no in-in ladies' hats. And the I felt that my troubles wore flower-seller stopped me and benguet. Incautiously I price, and as it was fifty cents and I wanted some ricsha money I produced my last dollar. "Fifty cents extra for putting it ov, please." I argued and pi ed that I should have to walk homo without avail; the lady was inexorable. Finally a happy thought struck mo; I offered fifty cents for having the bouquet pinned on and craved the gift of the flowers themselves. The lady relented avd I did not have to walk I wont sorrowfally home in a ricsha wondering at the frailty of human nature in general and my own in particular.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.