The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-10-27
ALADDIN OF LONDON OR LODESTARI MA. MAX MAX pasbzesoN @ $$$

ny cldIel dHu IL lO lHelI lliNihS. All that we have in England they have in America-prisons. paupers, policemen. | palaces. You are thinking of Africa, Sa- rah, darkest Africa, that used to be, but l IS fast disappearing. Let me add"
 Sarah, however was already busy upon l her dozen of oysters and had no patience
 to hear the good man out
 Don't you take on so. Bishop" she in- 1 teryened, "Mericky aint done much for me and precious little it's going ter do for you. What I says is, let those as have got good 'ome stop there and be 1 thankful. Yer may talk about your oshun wave, but l ain't taking any, no. not though there was diamonds on the sea beach the other side and 'ot-'arse roses fer nothink. Who ever sees their ole friends as is swallered up by the sea? | Who ever heard of Alb Kennedy since he went ter Berling as he told us for to make his fortune? Ho, a life on the oshun wave if yer like, but not for them as has bread and cheese ashore and a good bed to go to afterwards; that's whst I shall say as long as I've breath in my body"
 Betty the boy, answered to this earn est lamentation with a sound word of | good common sense.
 You're a-goin' to sleep in one O them boxes tonight, aint you, Sarah?' he asked, and she admitted the truth of his conclusions.
 And sweeter dreams I would have if I knew where the Dock was a-layin' hls ed this night" she added.
 The Archbishop ate a succulent morsel and drank a long draught from the un- adorned black bottle.
 Nothing is known of Kennedy at l Hampstead" he interposed, 'I have made | of there. 1 and he assures me that our dear friend | never returned from Poland and that no | one knows anything of him, not even MT. | Gessner. Anna, the daughter, l under | stand Is married to an old acquaintance of ours and has taken a little house Tn Curzon street. She liked to go the-er- | hem-pace, as the people say: and she Is mated to one who will not be afraid of exceeding the legal limits. MT. Gessner | himself Is on his yacht, and Is supposed l to be cruising off the coast of Norway. 1 That is what they tell me. I have no req son to doubt the truth of their informa- ton. Would to heaven I had Kennedy was a friend, true friend, while he was | in England. l have known many & bitter night since he left us."
 1 He sighed, but valiantly and applied himself once more to the pewter pot. It was terrible night outside, raining heav | fly and blowing a bitter wind. Even 1 here on the stage of the deserted thea tre a chilling draught sported with their candles and made fine ghosts for them l upon tine faded canvas. Talk of Alban | Kennedy seemed to have depressed them ! all. They uttered no word for many min utes, not indeed until one of the iron doors suddenly swung open and Alban 1 himself came in among them. He was | drenched to the skin, for he had carried | no umbrella and wore but light travel l ing suit, the identical one in which he | had returned from Poland. Very pale and | worn and thin. this, they said, was the | ghost of the Alban who had left them in l the early summer. And his manner was as odd as his appearance. You might al- 1 most have said that he had thrown the | last shred of the aristocratic rags to the | winds and put on old habits so long dis | carded that they were almost forgotten. When he crossed the stage to them, it was with his former air of dogged indif- ference and cynical self-content. Expla- nations were neither offered nor asked. He flung his hat aside and sat upon. the corner of a crazy sofa desplsed by the rest of the company. A hungry look, cast upon the inviting dellcacies, betrayed the fact that he was hungry. Be sure 1t was not lost upon the watchful Sarah. Good Gawd, to see him walk in amongst us like that. Why, MT. Kenne- uy, WndteVeTS up, WndleVer DrlflSS you here night like this?'
 Alban had always admired the Lady Sarah; he admired her more than ever tonight.
 Wind and rain, Sarah" he said short-- ly, they brought mo here, to say nothing of Master Betty cutting across the street as though tho cops were at his heels. How are you all? How's his reverence7 | Speak up, my lord. how are>the affairs Of | your extensive diocese?"
 My affairs" said the Archbishop, slow | ly. "are what might be called in nubi- | bus-cloudy my boy, distinctly cloudy. I l am, to adopt a homely simile at present under a neighbors umbrella. which is not as sound as it might be- Behold me, none l the less. in that state of content to which the poet Horace has happily referred neo vixil male qui natus moriensque fefel- | lit. At this moment you discover me upon | a pleasant bridge which spans an un- known abyss. I eat. drink and am mer- | ry. What more shall desire?'
 And Betty here, does Betty keep out of mischief?'
 l Sarah answered this.
 q got him job at Covent Garden, and he's there regular at o'clock every | morning sure as the suns in heaven. Don't you so thinking nothink about Bet ty, MT. Kennedy, and so I tell you straight"
 And what have you done with the Panorama, Sarah?"
 She laughed loudly.
 "Panorama's among the black men; ! them's his oysters we're eatin' now. Try one. MT. Kennedy. You look as if a drop of summat would do you good, so | help me you do. Take a sup O stout and i rest yourself awhile. It Is a surprise to | see you, I must say"
 "A very pleasant surprise. indeed" added the Archbishop. emphaticalIy. There has been no event in my life for many months which has given me so much satisfaction. We have not so many | friends that we can spare even one Of them to those higher spheres, which, must say, he has adorned with such con- spicuous lustre.v
 "Oh, spare me, reverence don't talk l norl0ense tonight. am tired as you see, | tired and hungry. And I'm going to beg food and drink from old friends who have loved me- Now, Sarah, what's it to be?"
 He drew the sofa nearer to the bare ta- ble and began to eat with them. Sarahs g motherly protestations induced him to l take off his coat and hang 1t up In the | watchman's office to dry. The same ten der care served out to him the most del- icate morsels, from generous, if un- ] couth table, and insisted upon their ac- acceptance. If his old friends were hot l with curiosity to know whence he came and what he had been doing. they. as the poor alone can do successfully asked no questions nor even hinted at their de- sire. Not until the supper was over and the Archbishop had produced little packet of cigars, did any general con