enormous speculation in industrials that had ever been known in Germany, and quotations shot up and down with unusual violence.

One of the capital aims of the Bourse law was to restrict speculation, but at no point has it more thoroughly disappointed its authors. The volume of transactions cleared by the Kassen-Verein reached, in 1899, the record total of eighteen thousand two hundred and ten million marks; for 1896, the year just before the law took effect, this figure was only eleven thousand six hundred and fifty-three millions. It is also certain that a still more marked increase of speculation occurred on the books of the banks through the matching of orders. Nothing can be clearer than the complete failure of the law to diminish speculative ventures, and never was the outsider so active and so fully in control of the Berlin market as in the years immediately following its enactment.

The moral effects of the law have been extremely bad. Through the "Bourse Register" a purely artificial distinction between legal and illegal transactions was introduced; unfortunate operators were tempted to break their plighted word; the restraints of Bourse morality and public opinion were weakened; and distrust has supplanted confidence.

The abolition of grain futures has been equally disappointing. The position of Berlin as a grain market has been seriously shaken. During the last few years the papers have frequently printed comparative quotations in the leading central markets which prove that German prices have become sluggish in responding to upward movements abroad, and that therefore German farmers are failing to get as quick an advantage from rising prices as those of other lands.

Owing to the above causes, a strong

agitation in favor of revising the law has arisen. Many chambers of commerce and other commercial bodies have declared for revision; and, as a direct result of the Bourse law, the bankers of all Germany have organized themselves for the protection of their interests in matters of legislation and administration. The first annual meeting of the new organization, the Bankers' Congress, was held in Frankfort, with an attendance of nearly eight hundred delegates-certainly the most imposing demonstration ever made in Germany by bankers. The congress unanimously voted in favor of a revision which should include the abolition of the "Bourse Register," the legalizing of time-bargains in industrial securities, and the repeal or reduction of the taxes on Bourse transactions and listings. The government, indeed, would now be willing to meet all these wishes of the bankers if a majority in the Reichstag could be secured for such a reform. The present Prussian Minister of Commerce is fully convinced that the law needs revision; and in September, 1901, he called a conference of bankers and parliamentarians to discuss revision, out of which a bill for removing some of the more obvious evils of the law has grown; but this measure is still in the hands of the Bundesrath, and it is generally understood that it will not be presented in the Reichstag till the present tariff bill has been disposed of. Even then it is quite uncertain whether any reform of the Bourse law could be carried. The majority parties are strongly Agrarian, and still regard the Bourse, with a former Prussian minister, as a "upas-tree"; and if they do not secure the high duties on grain and meats which they are now demanding, it is quite certain that they will resist any legislation for the alleviation of the Bourse's troubles.

S

HE was a missionary's bride, just out from the States. Her husband was a Yale man; he had been a halfback on the university football team. After graduation he offered his brains and muscles to the Methodist Missionary Society for the benefit of benighted heathen. The society sent him to Peking, and there, after three years, his sweetheart came out to marry him. Her Christian name was Shirley; his was George. It is not of the slightest consequence what their last name was.

Shirley had not yet learned a word of Chinese. If she had, this story would never have been written.

The young couple were in the habit of taking daily rides in and about Peking. These rides were the nearest approach to a wedding trip they could have. But once when George was more than usually busy, Shirley rode accompanied only by a servant, a converted native and very worthy man, whose acquaintance with the English language was confined to one word, "Missy."

Anxious to reach the great plain beyond the city gates, Shirley rode rapidly through the ill-paved streets; but in the Tatar city she was suddenly stopped at the entrance to a wide avenue by an imperial guard. The avenue had been carefully repaired, and strewed with a fine yellow sand.

Whenever the emperor leaves his palace in the Prohibited City, to worship at the "Tient tan" (altar to heaven) or at the "Sien Nung tan" (altar to earth) the streets he traverses are closed to the public. This day his Celestial Majesty had issued from his seclusion to offer up prayers for rain. His time was wisely chosen, for dark, threatening clouds floated low in the skies.

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The guard seized the bridle of Shirley's pony, and with angry ejaculations turned the animal around.

"What does he say?" asked Shirley, helplessly appealing to Sing, the servant. But Sing could only shake his head and motion her not to attempt the avenue again. A crowd had gathered, attracted by the shrill outcries of the guard.

A Peking street rabble is always unpleasant, and this one was particularly so, thought the missionary's bride. Frightened by the infuriated looks of the guard and the unkempt-appearing men about her, Shirley tried to hurry from the street in the direction Sing was pointing out. A noxious beggar, evil-looking and evil-smelling, placed himself squarely in front of the pony and refused to move. Twice Sing attempted to force him to one side. The rabble met these impotent efforts with shrill jeers. Then the bride came to her own assistance. She turned her pony sharply and suddenly to one side, struck him across the flanks, and dashed past.

With a yell the beggar pursued her. To escape the flying missiles sent after her,one had already struck her arm,—she entered a long, narrow alley at the right. The clatter of hoofs behind made her aware that Sing was following, as well as the sound of his voice calling beseechingly, "Missy! Missy!" The bride's only answer was to urge on her pony, determined first to place the whole length of the alley between her and the vindictive pursuers. Another pleading cry of " Missy! Missy!" reached her, and her fleet-footed pony bounded into a wide street. One glance showed her that it was covered with yellow sand, and a second that the imperial procession was not a square distant. She had a confused consciousness of men on horseback, of ele

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phants in trappings of gold, of triple umbrellas, and banners on high poles. Yells of horror and savage anger made her realize the enormity of her intrusion. The advance guard stood still, as though stupefied by the insult of her presence. What prying Western eyes were these that dared to violate the sacred seclusion of the great Hwangti! Then with a howl of rage they rushed toward the girl.

Facing them, immovable, like an equestrian statue, Shirley remained in the middle of the road. Her terror had momentarily deprived her of the power of thought or action. The banner-men, bearing down upon her with raised whips and fierce faces, restored her to her senses. She turned and fled down the alley she had just left. She could hear the sharp whiz of whip-lashes through the air; the banner-men were gaining on her. A convulsive shiver swept her frame; she already seemed to feel the stinging blows upon her back and neck. The race was a hopeless one, she knew; they would overtake her soon. Would they beat her to death, she wondered, or throw her into one of those awful prisons, where filth and torture would await her? The breathing of her tired pony grew louder, his pace slackened perceptibly. She urged him on with whip and voice. Gallantly he tried to answer her appeal, but his strength was spent; he stumbled and pitched forward heavily on his knees. The sudden fall threw Shirley from her saddle. With an ugly shout of triumph the banner-men were almost upon her. She sprang to her feet, and, throwing a despairing glance around, detected, in the long line of apparently unbroken wall lining each side of the alley, a wooden door not three feet from where she stood.

She had no hope of escape, yet anything was preferable to inaction; she ran and flung herself against the door. It was not fastened, and yielded readily to the pressure. She had barely time to close it after her and securely bolt it when a shower of blows sounded on the wooden panels. She drew a deep breath, charged with keen relief. She knew the door would soon give way under the furious onslaught, but in the meantime she might yet make good her escape. The court in which she found herself was small and inexpressibly filthy. Near another wall, at the farther end of the place, were two or three dilapi

dated houses with ragged mats swinging from the lintels. There was no sign of life about. Shirley lost no time, but ran across the court and into one of the low, narrow hovels to seek a hiding-place. The room was windowless, but a glint of light filtered through the matting in the doorway. Two things became plain to her, that a fat black pig, the only occupant, and a couple of stools and a table, on which were strewn pots and plates, would not give her concealment. The blows of the banner-men on the door increased in violence; a moment more and they would be in the court. Shirley crouched down, her whole frame limp with terror. Something on the floor attracted her attention; it was a bamboo ladder, its rounds tied with string. The sight gave her new courage. She dragged the ladder outside, set it against the house, and was on the flat thatched roof when the loud cracking of split wood informed her that the door was broken in. Then she drew the ladder up after her.

Close behind the house was a brick wall, and beyond it lay a private park. Without stopping to cast a backward glance at the rush of banner-men into the court, she swung herself down to the wall, then dropped twelve feet to the ground. She did not hear the men, after a short parley and fruitless search, leave the court again; she lay white and motionless on the ground.

WHEN Shirley regained consciousness, she was lying on a couch in a spacious apartment. The black-raftered ceiling, the partitions of dark, trellised woodwork, the rows of carved ebony chairs with teapoys between each two, and the floor of black tile, though handsome, lent a somber aspect to the room, relieved only by gaily tinted scrolls hanging on the walls. As she sat up, staring confusedly about, soft titters greeted her. Leaning on the arms of two amahs was a little lady barely numbering fifteen summers. Shirley struggled to her feet and with raised folded hands gave the Chinese salutation to the magnificently clad small figure. Then the two girls stared freely at each other; Shirley thought the other the most comical little person she had ever seen, yet not without a certain charm.

She was dressed in a blue silk tunic with borders ric roidered in variegated hues; her mpressed to the t

most possibility, as befitted her high rank, were just visible under wide silk trousers. On her delicate wrists were bracelets of jade, and rings of the same weighed heavily from her ears, while on the first and second fingers of her hands she wore long, pointed gold shields, to protect the grotesque length of nails beneath. Her youthfully rounded cheeks were glaringly painted; even the eyelids were touched with red; and placed below the peevish little mouth was another daub of vermilion. Now began a series of pantomimes on the part of the little lady and her amahs which it was impossible to misapprehend. The mistress, with closed eyes, stretched herself full length on the couch, the maids strolled carelessly about; suddenly spying her, they cautiously drew near, expressing great surprise, then pity, as they bent over her. They beckoned to imaginary servants, and illustrated with remarkable fidelity the carrying of the prostrate figure to the room in which they now were.

At the conclusion of this realistic dumbshow they signed to Shirley to tell her story in the same manner. This, however, was beyond her power. She could not turn herself into a street procession or a troop of enraged banner-men, even had she possessed the best of pantomimic talent. After one or two futile attempts, she desisted. They did not urge her; the sound of an imperious voice, which Shirley rightly judged to belong to the master of the house, and footsteps on the paved court, were heard approaching.

After a hurried consultation, the women motioned Shirley to follow, and hastily left the room, passing through a covered corridor where a side door brought them into the women's court.

This was a large garden bright with the bloom of flowers; juniper shrubs, trained into curious representations of birds and animals, showed here and there between tall willows; small moss-grown grottoes were scattered artfully about, adding apparently to the size of the garden.

On the winding foot-paths were pebble mosaics of figures and flowers, meant to beguile the stroller.

A summer-house, erected on piles over the blue gleam of a pond in the center of the garden, was reached by a slender bridge of wood. The front and sides of this house had sliding windows of oiled paper, and

could be opened or closed as desired. It was to this picturesque retreat that the women led Shirley.

They were scarcely in the room when two eunuchs appeared with trays of food and diminutive wine-cups containing warm sam-shin, a strong spirituous drink that the American girl made but a feint of tasting. Her hostess was fed by the eunuchs, who plied the chopsticks with wonderful dexterity. Shirley was embarrassed by the same attention from the amahs.

When the repast was over, the pi-pa and the san-hein (three- and four-stringed guitars) were brought forth, upon which the amahs played with skill while the little hostess sang a plaintive song.

All this, no doubt, was pleasant; but the pond had taken on a ruddy light, showing that the sun was low in the horizon, and every nerve in Shirley quivered with a longing to reach the mission before night should

come.

Unable to control her impatience further, she rose, and tried to convey by gestures her desire to be taken home. But now the exquisite politeness of her hostess gave way to pouting and angry looks, while the amahs made her understand that for that night, at least, she must remain with them. It was a childish whim of the little Chinese lady to keep Shirley for yet a longer time; chance had favored her in sending this foreign maiden to break the dull monotony of her daily life, and she was disposed to make the most of it.

Again and again Shirley renewed her petition; it was always met with violent disapprobation, manifested by gestures and torrents of shrill words. Thus repulsed, she gave herself up to the most desponding reflections, nor were their efforts to divert her again in the least successful. She began to fear the caprice of her hostess might keep her captive for days. Once the little Chinese lady succeeded unconsciously in rousing her interest again. She had attempted to walk unassisted across the room; the effort caused her to totter uncertainly; the eunuchs seized her hastily, and lifting the helpless little creature, carried her back to her seat. Shirley watched in silence. What did the world hold for that small figure, gay in paints and silks and jewels?

Married, though but a child, her life was as unnatural as her poor little feet. A