have not found it.  It is as pure as milk, or, at all events, as milk-and-water.  Unlike the Minerva Press, too, it does not deal with eminent persons:  wicked peers are rare; fraud is usually confined within what may be called its natural limits—­the lawyer’s office; the attention paid to the heroines not only by their heroes, but by their unsuccessful and objectionable rivals, is generally of the most honourable kind; and platitude and dulness hold undisputed sway.

In one or two of these periodicals there is indeed an example of the mediaeval melodrama; but ‘Ralpho the Mysterious’ is by no means thrilling.  Indeed, when I remember that ‘Ivanhoe’ was once published in a penny journal and proved a total failure, and then contemplate the popularity of ‘Ralpho,’ I am more at sea as to what it is that attracts the million than ever.

‘Noble youth,’ cried the King as he embraced Ralpho, ’to you we must entrust the training of our cavalry.  I hold here the list which has been made out of the troops which will come at the signal.  To certain of our nobles we have entrusted certain of our corps d’armee, but unto you, Ralpho, we must entrust our horse, for in that service you can display that wonderful dexterity with the sword which has made your name so famous.’

  ‘Sire,’ cried our hero, as he dropped on one knee and took the King’s
  hand, pressing it to his lips, ’thou hast indeed honoured me by such
  a reward, but I cannot accept it.’

  ‘How!’ cried the King; ‘hast thou so soon tired of my service?’

’Not so, sire.  To serve you I would shed the last drop of my blood.  But if I were to accept this command, I should cease to do the service for the cause which now it has pleased you to say I have done.  No, sire, let me remain the guardian of my King—­his secret agent.  I, with my sword alone, will defend my country and my King.’

  ’Be not rash, Ralpho; already hast thou done more than any man
  ever did before.  Run no more danger.’

  ’Sire, if I have served you, grant my request.  Let it be as I have
  said.’

  ’It shall be so, mysterious youth.  Thou shalt be my secret agent. 
  Take this ring, and wear it for my sake; and, hark ye, gentlemen,
  when Ralpho shows that ring, obey him as if he were ourselves.’

  ‘We will,’ cried the nobles.

  Then the King took the Star of St. Stanislaus, and fixed it on our
  hero’s breast.

Now, to my mind, though his preferring to be ‘a secret agent’ to becoming a generalissimo of the Polish cavalry is as modest as it is original, Ralpho is too ‘goody-goody’ to be called ‘the Mysterious.’  He reminds me, too, in his way of mixing chivalry with self-interest, of those enterprising officers in fighting regiments who send in applications for their own V.C.s while their comrades remain in modest expectation of them.