a house, or to waste in his expense any way. If he will be vain, let him do it at his own cost; for, roundly, I will not allow any extra ordinary charge for his wife, and therefore I pray reckon with him. If she return and he stay, I will do him all kindness according to his desert, and recommend her to the Company's care. Excuse what is past, but let not them smart for it that are innocent. You that have the Company's purse must order it. Money is dear ware in India. I would have you use her

your and my advice may be favored. His (Steel's)

wife will be ruled and return; and therefore consider her sex. Use her lovingly, assist her and lend her all fit comforts. I hope the house kept apart is at their own charge, for I perceive not the Company intended to keep their families. You have done as much as is necessary to Capt. Towerson. He will be deceived in Court and in his wife's friends. If he will not see it, let him run his fortune, so the other women return.

and Captain Towerson with courtesy, but not to live upon you, lest they stay too long."

His next letter was written in "The Woods, 30 course (koss, about 60 miles) short of Amadavaz," on December 6th; and discusses Mrs. Hudson's wishes:

"For private trade you know my orders, and I the Company's pleasure. The prime commodity (indigo) no man, I hope, will deal in under any pretence; cloth, if they do, and consent to acquaint the factors with it and remit it to their masters, it may pass, and by

I received Mrs. Hudson's desires from herself. And for indicoes, she pleads Sir Thomas Smith's consent; which, if in writing, private or public I had yielded to; now I cannot. Her demand is like Martin's, to have the Company's (indigo) for money, or to invest it for her. Your answer must be as mine; the first is unreasonable and cannot be answered; the second is too late and cannot be fulfilled. If she desires it in cloth (that takes small bulk), though these sums are very great, yet for her £100 you may admit, consign it to the Company, and

leave their liberty to themselves. I would her example would teach others, the Company's servants, to trust their masters. She may be as lucky as a calling duck; and therefore try her."

The expression that he had received Mrs. Hudson's desires from herself appears to mean that she had written, upon finding the Surat factors obstinate, as she had not left Surat at that date.

The Mogul having turned aside to Cambay, "to gaze upon the unfamiliar ocean," Roe now made a forced march to reach Ahmedabad in the middle of December. Soon after he again wrote the Surat factors, showing Towerson's arrival there, his own growing indignation with Towerson's pretensions, and his dislike of the State which he maintained:

"I perceive by some here a resolution in Captain Towerson to go to the southward, to which I never can nor will consent; neither take notice of it, until it be moved, but by provision give you my reasons: particularly for him, he pretended to the Company no purpose but to come to Suratt, only to visit his wife's friends, not to trade, but those things he had, pretended for gifts and presents, and to that end signed them a deed with his wife, which they have sent me, to urge him with, if I see him take any course perjudicial to them or begin any new which he had not licence for nor acquainted them with; with this they have given me caution to have an eye on his courses and actions, which were a very blind one if I should not see the disadvantage of his passing so great a stock through all the Company's commodities and ports. A general reason against him is the clause in the letter written to you where they declare that kind of private trade more prejudicial to

them than a bare return for England; and that I know it is, for Martin, Christian, and many others are an example. Neither see how the Company can give such liberty to him, and so restrain me and all their servants, whose deserts will equal any captain or woman. Perhaps they thought her greatness (Mrs. Towerson) could do them some pleasure; if so, they mistake their friends; it is well if she return as she came. What courtesy I can do him I will, such as I can answer with my discretion and no more. He is here arrived with many servants, a trumpt (trumpeter) and more show than I use. If I may stead him I am glad, but I think it had been fitter to have kept the Company's servants about their own business, for I known not when he will return, nor what his presence here will produce."

Steel, with the ladies under his care and the artificers as a guard, reached Ahmedabad soon after the middle of February, 1618. A day or two before their arrival, Roe wrote to the factors: "The woemen are almost arrived at court, but I hope I shall depart this towne before, the King goeing out suddenly, which makes mee now take. my leave." On the same day he wrote a letter to the Company in London, from which the following abstract is miade:

"Towerson and his wife find poor reception; her friends are poor and mean, and weary of them; he came with hopes of gocd diamonds; is sorry for him and his little vanity, and has used his best advise to persuade his return; he pretends the Company's licence for private trade. Evils of granting this favor; it makes all their servants grudge. Mrs. Hudson claims the like for her proportion, but has also denied her. Is the same to man and woman."

I

REMEMBER Grandfather Alden, notwithstanding he died when I was a very little girl. He had a noble face, for all the world like the face of one of those beautiful New England poets. He was a poet himself, though, of course, not famous like those others. Grandmother Alden was much younger that grandfather, though she lived but a year or two after he died. She had a very sweet face, and anyone could see that she must have been a beauty in her young womanhood. Indeed, she was a beauty to the last. They have both been dead a score of years, and I am sure neither would mind now if they knew I were publishing the manuscript bearing the title of "Playmates," which I found not long ago among grandfather's papers. I do not suppose he intended it for publication when he wrote it, Lut wrote it for the mere pleasure of writing, as one will when his heart is full and overflowing. This is it:

To make a good beginning I must begin the story with Belle. Belle Hathaway is a daughter of my dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Atherton Hathaway. I have been a friend of the family for ciose on to two decades. I trotted belle on my knee when she was a baby, made paper dolls for her when she was a little girl, helped her with her lessons. when she was a Miss at school, and once or twice have taken her to the theatre since she became a young lady; for Belle is almost twenty now.

I am tempted to describe Belle to you, but, upon reflection, do not think I will. The description could not fail to be a failure. Words cannot picture flesh and blood-say nothing of soul! And if they could, they couldn't picture such a combination of flesh and blood

and soul as Belle! But the next time you see a woman whose beauty attracts and holds you more than any you have seen for a good six months, think of Belle! It will not be like her, of course, for God made only one like Ler-but it will be nearer like her than any woman you have seen before for six months.

"A bachelor of forty rhapsodizing over a girl of twenty!" That is what you say. And you add, "Probably she is really plain, only he doesn't know it." But that would be a mistake.

However, it doesn't matter whether you think Belle is beautiful or not.

Charlie Hunter is twenty-two, and a handsome, wholesome young fellow. He and Belle must have known each other for at least five years. And for the past two years I think the parents of both the young people, as well as the intimate friends of the two families-myself included-have looked forward to their marriage as not only possible, but probable.

Not only would there be no objections raised to the marriage of Belle and Charlie, when they should become old enough, but on the contrary, the prospect of their union was agreeable to their respective parents and friends. It was thought they would make a very happy couple, and it was certain they would make a very handsome one. If no match ensued it would surely be the fault of no one but the young people themselves. The course for love to run in was wide and smooth, and if it didn't run in it, and run smoothly, it would seem to indicate that the love wasn't true love, that is, if there is any truth to the old adage. There may not be.

As far as Charlie Hunter was con

cerned, there seemed to be no doubt about his love being true enough. He was devotion itself to Belle. I don't know that I ought to say his affection for her struck me as dog-like, for "doglike" is scarcely applicable to Charlie under any circumstances; but so far as faithfulness is concerned, his affection seemed as true as that of a faithful dog. It was not until you came to Belle that the uncertainties of this love affair began to appear. That she liked Charlie was plain enough to any of us; but whether it was merely a friendly regard, a sort of sisterly liking, or whether it was something stronger and deeper, was not so clear. Belle isn't a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, or for that matter in any place where its maidenly beatings are exposed to profane eyes. She keeps it nested deep in her bosom, and if now and then there have been flutteringsand what maiden's heart of twenty has escaped them?-no eye has seen them So none of us knew whether Belle loved Charlie or not. I sometimes thought, perhaps she did not know herself. If she did not love him I thought she could easily learn to. It seemed to me that Charlie was just the sort of fellow to win a young girl's heart.

Another young man, Hadley Brooks. had paid Belle some attention, and Belle, if she had not smiled upon him, at least had not frowned. Brooks was an excellent enough fellow, for all that I can say. I know of absolutely nothing against him. And yet I don't like him. I don't know whether it was the remark he made one day, in my presence, about poets not a complimentary remark, exactly-that awakened this dislike, or not. I think not, for, unless I am mistaken, I had conceived a dislike for him before that. It is quite possible that remark deepened and confirmed the feeling. But however that may be, that fact remains that I dislike him. And if he really cared for Belle and wanted to win her affections, he could not have been a very good plotter for a maiden's heart. And I will tell you why. Any lover with his

wits about him must have seen that Belle valued my opinion highly. He should have known-for Belle never sought to disguise it-that she held me and my opinion in quite as high esteem as the person and opinion of any old friend of the family. Her father and mother used to try to get her to call me "uncle," but she said, "No. I wasn't her uncle." She wanted to call me John, just as they did. I was her playmate and it was proper to call me John, just as they did. It would be absurd to call her playmate "uncle." That was the conclusion she reached at the age of six, and she has adhered to it ever since, Thus I have always been John to her, and am to this day. So you can readily see that, under the circumstances, it would be very foolish for a lover of Belle to affront Belle's old friend John. If I may put it that way, I was the one courtier at Belle's court whose favor should have first been sought by any seeker after the heart of the Queen. I was the minister whose words were certain to have most weight with her. The fact that Hadley Brooks failed to recognize this indicates to my mind. that after all he was a rather dull young man.

So that remark of Mr. Brooks about poets-Belle didn't hear it, or she would probably have dismissed the young man then and there-might very easily have proved to him a costly blunder. Charlie Hunter was different. He has always treated me with apparent deference. I am not so pessimistic-if I am a bachelor-as to suppose he has been other than sincere in this regard. He saw that Belle liked her old friend and playmate, and, perhaps, it didn't occur to him to dislike anything that Belle liked. Certainly he has seemed to like me, and I am quite sincere in saying that I have always liked him.

So if it came to Belle's making a choice between Charlie Hunter and Hadley Brooks, you can see easily enough in whose favor my influence would be cast. And more than once, lately, I had feared she was inclin

ing towards Brooks. But as I have said, the heart so deeply nested in her bosom made it hard for even so close and jealous an observer as myself to be certain towards whom her affections inclined.

Now the future happiness of Belle lay very near to my heart, as you can easily imagine from what I have already told you. No real uncle, or father for that matter, could be more deeply interested in the welfare and happiness of a niece or daughter, than I was in Belle's. I believed honestly enough that she would be happier with Charlie Hunter than with Hadley Brooks, and when, as it seemed to me, she began to show more interest in Brooks and a little less in Charlie, I became frightened. And it was this that determined me to take a hand in the matter and use what influence I could command in favor of Charlie. This favor to Charlieinestimable, should my efforts prove successful-was to be done without his knowledge. I could picture to myself the gratitude he would feel when he learned that my influence had been used in his hehalf. Never by word or act had he expressed the hope that I would intercede for him, but I knew that he would be overjoyed if I would. Though I liked the young fellow well enough on his own account to hope that I should be successful, I will not pretend that it was at all on his account that I did it. It was done entirely on Belle's, and because I believed her happiness was thereby being promoted.

This decision to interfere in behalf of Charlie was reached several days ago, but it was not until last evening that the opportunity I was looking for arrived.

I frequently spend my evenings at the Hathaways, and last evening went there according to custom. On the way I passed the Hunter's door, and Charlie chanced to be coming out as I approached. I wondered if the young fellow's destination was the same as mine, but he started off in the opposite direction. He gave me a cheery "Good evening, Mr. Alden!" as we met, and after I had returned his pleasant salu

tation and passed on, I thought to myself: "You lucky dog, if you knew what I am going to do for you the first chance I get, you would not only give me that cheery smile, but you would pause and wring my hand as well." I don't know but I sighed softly once or twice after meeting Charlie. I'm afraid I envied the young fellow his happiness.

Belle was at. home. "Papa and mama have gone out to make a call," she said. "I'm so glad you've come. I've been thinking what a stupid evening was before me, and wondering what I should do. But now we'll have a.nice time together."

"But what will you do with a prosy old fellow like me, Belle?" I asked. "You're not prosy," she said, laughing. "You are poesy-Is there any such word?"

"I hope so," I said, "but whether there is or not, don't you know there is no one so prosy as a bachelor of forty who writes verses?"

"What have you written lately? I want you to recite it to me at once!" she said, with some of the old childish imperiousness in her tone and manner that had always struck me as delicious. In these later years it had betrayed itself with less frequency.

"I believe I haven't written anything lately, Belle," I said. "I'm not sure, but I'm gradually getting over the disease. Some day I may be completely cured!"

"Disease!" exclaimed Belle. "I only wish 'twas contagious and I could

catch it!"

Belle has always been foolishly fond of the little nothings I have written in rhyme. Many's the jingle with which I caught her fancy when she was a child, and to this day she wouldn't think Christmas was Christmas unless my present to her was accompanied by some little Christmas sentiment that I had fashioned into verse.

"Well, Belle, what are we going to do?" I asked. "You are so much of a young lady now that I am beginning to feel afraid of you. Young ladies ought to be entertained, but I've for