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 "Must such splendid efforts be thrown away?" I sadly answered; "are there no circumstances that might arise to justify at least some hope?"

"My dear lady," was the courteous and grave reply, "we wish him success, as you do; but you have too much good sense to believe in fairy tales. The Pasha has neither money nor munitions. He has the Greeks (well supported by the Allies and the Sultan) against him on the north, the Armenians on the east, the French on the south. He will put up a brave fight and perish in the attempt. The days of miracles are past." But the miracle happened!

And now, as the train followed the line of the victorious army, our young men took out their maps and eagerly pointed out to us these, now almost sacred, landmarks. Their father, at the same time, explained many technical details—why such and such a position could not be maintained, where the Greek strategy had failed, how General Trécoupis (now thankful, no doubt, to be in the Turks' hands at Eski-Chéir) had surrendered to a mere lieutenant.

By way of return for all this interesting information, I told a few simple stories about the Royal Family of Great Britain, which I have always found interest these people far more than my "grander," or more romantic, reminiscences from the Courts of Europe.

They are never tired of hearing that our Edward VII. only required one "gentleman in waiting" at a time at Marienbad; whereas the Czar (Ferdinand) of Bulgaria was always accompanied by a suite of eight or nine. Sir Edward Goschen was instructed to dress, like his royal master, in a green Tyrolese hat with its little shooting feather. He was sent to sit on "the king's bench" until the crowd had satisfied their natural desires for "a good view," and gone ome to breakfast. Then Edward VII. himself arrived.

I went on to tell of a Wagner concert, so crowded that a certain little American lady of about seventy quietly settled into the only empty seat that the King's