"To Her Serene Highness the Margravine of Rippau, etc., etc., etc., in trust for the Most Exalted the Princess of Eppenwelzen-Sarkeld." I transpose or omit a title or so.

"Aha!" says she, "there's verwirrung in Roy's poor head, poor fellow; the boy has sunk to a certainty.

Here (to the princess), it seems, my dear, this is for you.

Pray do not communicate the contents for a day or so, or a month."' His imitation of the margravine was the pleasantest thing I heard from him.

The princess's maid and confidante, he regretted to state, was incorruptible, which I knew.