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Pages from Parson Pallell’s Diary {I found the farmer very Sick of a dYSentery, and after tarrying some time with himâ€"I would fain hope ‘0 his comfortingâ€"I turned me homeâ€" wards, telling the lad thatl could fare right well alone. For the youth Was heaVY-eyed by reason of the lateness of the hour. {was gotten as far asa great oak, which I had noted in coming, when I sat me down on a bank to rest. for 'twasa tiring walk and I be not a tro- bust man. And I bethought me that surely must be herealbout a shorter Way home than the road, which did seem to bear away from the direction I would go. So musing, mine eye lit on an old stile, partly blocked by bramlbes in the hedge, and peering through I did desory the path makmg straight for my haven, or soit did ap- Pear. And. lln the dim light (for the moon was rising, but not yet free of the mlstsl, a nightingale burst into his Dong in the underwood. This did de- cide me. So I did push me a way over the stile, through the briars, and so along the path wilha light step and heart. But anon the track did grow less disâ€" tinct and did seem to fork out in dif- ferent directions, to my great puzzle- melnt, so that I did lose rule in the wood. I was bethinking me how Dorothy would be alarmed at my delay, when something did close on my right foot, above the ankle, with a. cruel grip. The pain was such as I could scarce endure. At first I thought ’twas some .Wild animal had bit me, but ’twas a steel trap that did close witha spring. Do what I would I could not rid me 'of the hellish thing, though I made shift to undo my buckle for the easing of my fool. .And it came as a. flash to me, that .here was Sir Ralph’s wood and I caught in one of his trapsl-a sorry plight truly for a. parson of a. parish; and my silk stockings too all rent and bloody, for I had not changed into my woollen, because of the haste to start. For a. space mine anger was but against the man who had devised such deviltries. But, I bet‘hought me, the engine was not there of set purpose to catch me of all men, and that in sooth I was where no business called me. Wlbat would the bishop say should it come to his ears? By this the late mic-on was risen, and bled I been otherwise placed, I had en- joyed the gentle beauty of the night. And, despite my disorder of mind and body, I could not but mark the delicate tracery wroughlt by the shadows of the young foliage. Moreover, the song of Philomel that had lured me thither. was now grown into a. chorus. One thing I was plain set on, and that to keep off, an ‘twere possible, the faintness which did begin to creep on me. For} knew that, if haply I war to fall in a swound, ’twould be the reakmg of my leg. So I did chant me the Litany, whatl could _remember and was ashamed how little I coul without book), and did sing some hymns to beguile my mind. . l was drawmg me a breath at the 3nd of a. verse when a. voice, mighty cop and stern, spake out of the bushes hard by. ,“Thou psaLm-singing, crop-cared curl Ill teach thee sing another tuneâ€"” There wuss. pause as of one amazed, and a tall men did forth of the covert. "God save my wits!” quoth he. "whom have we ere?" I essa ed to draw me up with some- what 0 dignity, though it did sore {hurt my foot to do so, and made answer to the ranger, as I thought him. Galtwo Diary of Parson Parlett " ’Tis I, Timothy Parlett, Master of A‘rtshcharged With the spiritual cure of this {rush and am caught in a snare, ‘ nking to have reached home 'Iihe soonelr~” But he had already scooped to re- lease me. "Gad, sir," said he, "you adorn the position! Were I in your case, small shttéu’i’ach, troth, were mine for sing- nd I did perceive, by the quin- of his broad shoulders that he wag deeply moved by pity of my plight. Anon he had got the iron fangs open and Ifwas free. But hereupon Nature gld seize her opportunity of requital ‘or the palm and loss of blood, and I had fallen had he not caught me in his arms. And I felt myself being swiftly carried homevwards. The motion did so sooth me as I fell‘ on a. kind of trance, wherefrom I ,did awake to find me in, mine own bed, but ver weak d And d didmbear as in a dream my ear aug er’s voice, 53. in , i hushed tones :- y g n "I fear me the limb be sorely jured." And the deep voice of him that did . rescue me made gentle answer :- ' "Nay, young mistress, comfort thee. Twfll soon heal. There he no injury to the bone of any moment" . Again my Dorothy spake, and her. great love for me did tremble in the WEIâ€"it " as a savage dog, think on, sir, that did set on him?" y "Tis no dog’s bite." "What then, good sir?” A space did follow of silence so deep asI did hear plain the faint atter of the ivy_o_n the lattice. And did lie idly waiting for _the answer as though tWere a. thing I had heard long ago. in- “'Twas one of Sir Ralph‘ Brant’s man-traps" ' And 1 saw the shadow of my Dor- fthy ‘on the wall as she did rise to her I efit in a blaze of wrath. . Were the coward here,” cried my: girl, “I would box him his ears!” Coward or no," quot‘h the other, "here he .be, and submitteth him to thy just punishment.“ And I could see his shadow kneeling at her feet. . _ But for all answer Dorothy did sink on her chair ina storm of weeping, and "Cruell cruel!” she did murmur, ’mid her tears , . \Yhereupon my weakness did again overcome me, and I knew no more till the sun was high in heaven. ~ Neither my daughter nor I said ought to other living creature of the evean of the night, and made some exâ€" cuse for my keeping my bed, even to our old servingâ€"woman, Deb, who had been long abed when I was brought home _ _ The next Lord’s Day, my kind neighâ€" bor, Doctor Shelton, of Threllick, did undertake my duties at the church, having by good hap a visitor in, his house to wit Mr. Ford, of Cambridge, who (lid undertake his Doctor Shelton be an worthy man, but. an preacher (Air. Bullamy says the drowsiest, save Parson Thorp. he did ever know), so that ' I mar- velled the more that: Sir I Ralph should go to hear him. Ye/t so it was â€"the first time for man months. in brave attire, Danie Pow ett. tells me, and did look likea prince of the blood. Now Dorothy had told me naught of this, nor could I gather that she had observed it. However,. the second Lord’s Day after my anoident I got to church by help ofa. stick and Dor- mhy's arm, and did note that the cob‘ webs were brushed out of Sir Rnlphs pew and new cushions, and anon him- .cclf did arrive mighty fine, and bath a very distinguished air. _ As I was robinlg me for the sex-Vice. Mr. Bullamy came to me "A wonder hath happened.“ quot?) be, his face red and eyes round: " ’tls come to my knowledge that last evenâ€" ing he” (there was but one j'he‘ In Sternax) "hath took up all his man- traps and buried them in a big hole in Thorlop Bottom, and the Parth through his woods be now free for the villagers to use as they list!" I did mark how Sir Ralph did attend closely to the sermon, and did jom m the Singing bravely and with much skill of music. But my Dorothy. that was ever wont to sing likea lark, was today mum as any mouse, which dida little vex me. And in sooth my girl be grown very silent these days, and her old sprightliâ€" ness doth seem to have left her. I pray she have not taken my hurt over- much to heart. That were folly seeing: I be, save for a limp, well-nigh healed, though a scar there will always be. I had thought to thank Sir Ralphl ‘privily after the service, but he was gone. ’Tis almost as though he did avoid us of set purpose. Perchance he may have took offence at Dorothys words of that night. But I have said nought of this to her, nor knoweth she that. I did chance to hear them. We were wending us homewards slowl for my lameness) when we be t e sound of horsemen riding towards us, and anon two mounted gal- lants came to view We "had withdrawn into a grassy nook at one side of the road to give them the freer passage by a duckâ€"pond on the other, when they did check their horses, and much to my disquiet I did perceive that they purposed some rude- ness. (For the times be unruly from the license of the court, which setteth’ a. pestilent example. This I say that: be a. loyal king's man to the core, and ever have been.) They were both bravely dressed young bloods, and did ride very good cattle. “How no, Father Winter?” quotbl one; "how comest thou in company of Spring?" "Mount up, hither, fair maid," quot}! the other, "and ride with us. ’Twill be the merrier.” _ "Gentlemen," said I earnestly, "will it please you go your way and let us take ours?" 'jSo‘ftly, sir,” cries the elder and more evilâ€"looki-n of the two (to mind), I would fain first taste that lady’s lips. For, Gad. sir, they tempt a man dev- ilishly." And he disnvinted, and tossing his bridle to his friend came towards us. My daughter screamed, and I did put: myself in front of her with sore mis- giving, for he was a. strong man and taller than I. But just as he was lay- nng his hand on my cloak I did hear Dorothy say very softly, "Thank Godl" and who should step out of a gap in the hedge behind us, but Sir Ralph) Brant. In two strides he had got one band on the collar and the other on the belt of him who was molesting us, and had swung him off his feet into the deepest part of the duck-pond. The other gallant waited not to see more, but spurred away like the wind, taking his companion’s horse with him. _ Sir Rel h took a pistol from his girdle an was for aiming at him, but Dorothy put her hand on his arm. He turned his head towards her, and I saw a marvellous tender look soften the stern face as their eyes did meet. "So be it,” quoth he, lowering the weapon, "yet did he richly deserve it, were it but for deseriing his friend yonder." And he pointed to the further side of the pond, where our fine gentleman was now crawling out covered with: slime and duckweed, wigless, and his gay feathers drenched and bedraggled with the muddy water like to a wet ecock. ’Twas a sight none of us could forbear to laugh at, so sorrya figure did he out We did leave the fellow to find him his trusty friend, and so on'to my house, where I did persuade Sll‘ Ralph} to dine with us, and were right merry over good but simple fare, to wit, boiled chicken and gammon of bacon, with bread and fruit; and our guest did much. praise Dorothy’s con- serves After dinner Sir Ralph and I sat on a. bench in the garden under a fine spreading beech-tree. ’Twas sweet summer weather, and we had our wine on a small table, Dorothy being seated on a low stool at my feet sewing. And I, knmvin Sir Ralph to be a man better traveled than most, did draw from him some account of his journeyings. So he did fall to talk of themâ€" mighty good discourse, and ’tis plain to see he be a man of great understand- lng and observation And I did note, when he was telling ofa most terrible storm that did burst on the ship he was in off the African coast, and of his danger and being like to be lost, how my Dorothy’s cheeks did pale as she did bend oven her work. But what followed did mightily di- vert me, more than they guessed It befell thus. Sir Ralph was discoursm of a cer- tain slavehmerchan‘t in A giers, and. how he did illâ€"tread: his slaves and did excellent, indifferent young girl naked to the waistâ€"with a. knotted cord. And I saw Dorothy’s work fall out of her hands. and her eyes did flash and. her bosom heave, and anon up she sprin s. antd did knock her stool over in t e an . “The oouldâ€"“ "ch him his ears?" asked Sir Ralph demurely, whereupon they did both burst into hearty laughter, Dorothy With a heightened color which did vastly become her. "'Twas the very thing I did," said he. "and did relish the doing, though‘ it did well-nigh get me in trouble with‘ his countrymen. But you did promise, Mistress Dorothy, to show me your garden. .VVill it please you to do so now?" .They were soon lost to my sight beâ€" hind tbe yew-tree hedges, and being a. thought drowsy after the labors of the day. I did fall intoa light slumber. The next I remember was Dorothy’s arms round my neck and her soft lips on my cheek. I did rouse me, and saw her sweet face full ofa great happi- ness. so that her eyes did shine like stars. "I have told your dau hter, Mr. Par- lett." said Sir Ralph, " .1e story of my life. ‘Twas a woman that clouded it, and a woman may restore its sunshine. Will you give Dorothy to me, if she be Willing to try, as I think she be?” And for the great love I bare her I could not say him nay. The End. lash oneâ€"a evil brute!" cried she, "I .- THE VALUE OF A DOLLAR. What It flan Do to Relleve a l-‘nmlly In Dlslress. "If You can demonstrate to me that You can actually relieve distress with one dollar. I will give you what you want.” A rich cynic thus answered 8 W0- mnn who had come to him for aid to help the poor of their city. He hoped to silence her and send her away. "\Vill you come with me 2" said the wrnnan. challenged in this novel man- ner. ' The man consented. In a few minutes the two entered an unsightly tenement. The ladi- who knew her ground. led the man up two flights of stairs into a oheerless room. The floor and walls were abso- lutely barren. ’l‘lhle only piece of fur- niture besides the bed, a chair and a dilapidated table, Was asmall stove. in which a scant fire was burning. There was a. middle-aged man in the room with two children. each poorly and thinle clad. The few dishes were empty. Destitutilon could hardly be more complete. The woman accus- tomed to such. pathetic sights. soon learned what was most needed. and from long experience, slhle knew just wlhnt to purchase. | “Please wait," slhle said to the rich men, "while I run around to the store.” Full of compassion for this mute suf- ferlng. the gentleman waited. In a quarter of an hour a large grocer's basket, filled to the brim, was brought into the room. soon the little stove threw out comforting heat, and the odor of food gave grateful. cheer. Do you thank this charity well be- ?etgtwed i" asked the woman, as they f'Indeed, Ido,” came the answer. With a suspicious tmmlor in the voice. ‘ Well. here is the list." He took it and read. We quo.e it word for word: 25 pounds coal . . .20 2 bundles kindlin'g . . .05 Half pound Lee. . . .15 2 loaves bread . . .08 2 pounds oatmeal . "14 Half pound sugar . . .05 Gallon kerosene oil. . .10 Measure pelatoes . .08 1 quart; milk . . .04 Small bag salt . ' . .02 1 box matches , . . .01 Total . . . $1.00 Without hesitation the man of money took a dollar bill and handed it to the good woman. and the next day she rfcelved his check for a thousand like 1 . The knowledge of what one dollar can actually accomplish: to uplieve disâ€" tress and bring happiness to the poor may res-train our hands from foolish extravagance. In these days. when honest poverty is crowding about us. it is nothing less than cruel to throw too many of our dollars away for purely selfish luxuries. Extravagant expenditures hold the “germs of dis- aster. In their full fruitage, they give birth to effemiuacy. lower moral stan- dards, stimulate envy, and incite social and political revolution. __ â€" HEY, HO! \VINTER \VILL GO! A robin sings on the leafless spray, _ Hey ho, winter will go! Sunlight shines on the desolate way, And under my feet‘ I feel the beat 0f the world‘s heart that never is still. Never is still .VVhatever may stay. Life out} of death, as day out of nightr Hey ho. winter will goi In the dark shall glimmer a. light. A delicate sheen Of budding green. Then, silent, the dawn of summer. breaks. ‘As morning breaks, O'er valley and height'. The tide lSbbs out, and the tide flows '10 ; Hey ho, winzter will go! Though heaven be screen'd byastormy rack, It rains, and the blue Comes laughing through; And cloudâ€"like. winter goes from the earth. That flowers in his track. Sing, robin, sing on your leafless spray, Hey ho. winter will go! Sunlight and song shall shorten the fway. And under my feet} I feel the beat 0f the world's heart that never is still, Never is still Whatever may stay. _. RIUH AND _ll_lB.E LlUES. BLEW A SAFE OPEN FOR SIX YARDS ' 0F LACE. The llabit of Wearing Rich and Costly Lace "as of Late Ileeu Dying Outâ€"“lull Ilic Luxury lms Cost. Some or [lie Favored ones. Once in a while a bit of informa- tion leaks out-in unusual channels which call attention to a fact that is generally forgotten or ignored. The other day burglars blew open thesafe of an Uptown modiste in New York. and stole something. There was no- thing remarkable about that, for it is a habit burglars have. But; it happe‘n‘ that they got into the safe for the Particular purpose of stealing 6 yards of lace. Now, why burglars should go to all that trouble and run all that risk for the sake of 6 yards of lace seems on the surface a deep mystery. When the theft was reported at police headquarters the reason was plain. The little bit of lace was worth more than fifty times its weight in gold. 'l'lwenty years ago it cost ex- actly $1000 a yard, or $6000 for the piece. Today its value is between $8000 and $9000. For some years the fashion of wear- ing costly laces has been allowed to die out, perhaps because so few wo- men could afford to indulge in it, no matter how great the riches of their husbands or fathers. The wife of the ordinary one-time millionaire can no more afford to accumulate costly laces than a. much poorer woman, for the simple reason that it would consume her husband's entire fortune in a very short time. It has been a. fad of roy- alty forr 'numberless years, but the kings and queens spend other peo- ple's money, so they can afford to be luxurious. An effort is making now to rehabi- litate the lace-wearing fashion, and if it be successful it will draw a. very sharp distinguishing line "between millionaire and multiâ€"millionaires. The women members of families who have been rich [00' many generations will have an advantage over others, as in the days of our grandmothers and greatâ€"grandmothers the ownership of fine lace was a social necessity. The Astor collection of laces, for in~ stance, is very fine and ranks with any of the private collections abroad. At the time the laces of Empress Eu- gene were sold alt auction the Astors were heavy buyers. They pooled with the Vanderbilts and the Rothschilds so as to avoid bidding against one an- other. These three great families se- lected an agent to do the buying, and at the termination of the sale the pur- chases were divided into thirds. Eu- genie, olf course, was not a gainer by this, but she could well afford the loss. The 6 yards above mentioned were part of [the "pool" purchase at this sale. and .were subsequently sold by Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt to Mrs. Corning. the present owner. There are many pretty legends of the origin of laceâ€"making. and one of the prettiest is the story of the Vene- tian sailor who, on the eve of a. sea. voyage, gave to the woman he loved a piece of beautiful seaâ€"weed, to keep while he was absent, in memory of him. He sailed away, and the girl cared for his gift with constant devotion, sup- erstitioust fancying that upon its presâ€" ervation depended the safety of her lover or the endurance of his love for her. Therefore when she discovered that the seaweed was slowly drying up and falling to pieces. she caught the fine leaves and branches With thread against a piece of linen. and thus invented lace. Too much confidence must not be placed in this pretty legend, however, for some fine examples of the lace- makers' art have been traced back to! the period of about 1000 years before Christi, \Vhile the art is an ancient blue. the finer qualities did not ap- pear until after the fifteenth century. The most celebrated lace collections are those of the South Kensington Museum, in London, and the Bruges Museum, although the Cluny Mus- e‘um. in Paris. contains inestimable specimens of antique lace. French women are notably fond of laces. and a valuable piece is handed down from one generation to another with almost religious care. The famâ€" ous Honilon set of Queen Victoria is of such incalcuable value that her Ma.- jes'ty has worn it only four timesâ€"at her mvn and other royal weddings. No greater evidence of the favoritism of the Queen for ’Princess Beatrice could be given than her immense cou- cessiom in allowing these remarkable flounces, veil and bodice trimmings to be placed on the wedding own of this Princess. The Queen of taly is par- ticularly well endowed with this deli- cate fabric, and the cream of her collec- tion consists of superb pieces of Mal- tese lace, some of it said to be 2500 years old. Mrs. \Villiam H. Vanderbilt, ers \Villiam Astor and Mrs. Hicks-Lord are perhaps the owners of the finest laces in. New York. hire. Astor is credited With owning a lace gown which cost somewhere between $25,000 and $30,000. She has never been seen to wear it, but if she did there would probably be some broad but polite smiles in the fashionable assemblage. In the first place, the gofwn would be sadly out of date. and, notwithstanding her riches, she would not. be so extravagant as tohave the laces cut up in an effort to fit them to the prevailing mode. Mrs. A. T. Stewart was, in her life- time, the qwner of the finest laces in the land. As the wife of the root merchant prince she had unusua op- portunities for picking u odd but valu- able bits in all parts 0' the world, as her husband’s buyers always had a. standing order to buy when they were certain of the quality. At theJime of her death these laces were valued at $600,000, but since the-n they have been scattered far and Wide. .Mrs. John Jacob Astor has a Veneâ€" tian rose point lace fan purchased last fall at the sale of a famous collectionl for $1300. It may not be the most ex-l pensive fan in the world, but there are a few which cost. more. The sticks are of mother of pearl, with a delicate trac- ery in gold. It is needless to say that this 'fah is seldom used, for in the crushes which characterize the aver- age society function it would probably be smashed to flinders and the guazy lace tctrn into shreds. The eccentric Queen of Belgium has a lace gown which cost a fabulous sum. It is said to contain 60 yards (if lace of various W'idths. Some wildly im- aginative people, in writing of this gown, have placed its cost at $h000.000. Vhen the vanilla of lace is being con- sidered there is a wide field for error at hand. At the utmost the lace own of Belgium's Queen could hardly av cost more than $75,000. and oneâ€"ha] of that sum might cover the total]. The collection of Mrs. Hicks-Lord is said to contain the famous point do Brussels shawl once owned by Eugenie. Mrs. Hicks-Lord keeps all of her treas- ures locked up in the vaults of a safe deposit company. and as she never oea into society nowadays it is diffioul to name her possessions with any de es of accuracy. This shawl has een valued at $30,000. Eighty experts worked on it for a year. and the Emd press Eugenie wore it 'three times: Since then it has never been worn. Mrs. \Villiam CH. Vanderbilt owns som efine bits of point d’Alencon, one of the costliest laces in the world. The reason of the great cost 18 due, of course. to the amount of intricate labor required. First, the design is drawn by. an artist and then engraved on a cop- r plate. from which it is printed on ong strips of parchment. Pieces of linen are attached to the archment‘ and the pattern is traced With thread. The ground netting of the lace is then worked out. More than twenty ex- perienced hands are required to do their several kinds of work before the tiniest bit of point d'Alencon can be oduced. Some of this law has ro’ught as much as $1600 a yard, but) this IS an exceptionally high price. It can be seen. by this that the fad of lace collecting is a moat costly one. and mible only to those who have a limitless income. PROMINENT PEOPLE. Notes About Some of the Great Folks o! the ‘Vorld. Dr. Nansen has asked permission to name the Siberian peninsula discovered by him after King Oscar of Sweden. The king and the Russian authorities have given their consent. Dr. De Bossy, of Havre, who has just died at the age of 103, was the doyen of French. doctors Up tolthe end of January he gave consultations and attended patients regularly. As a. compliment to the Emperoz William when he visits le1a, the Czar will make all his public speeches in German, following the example of Alexander II. of Russia on a Similar occasion. v » - Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria is having his portrait painted by the Viennese artist, Eduard Horowitz. He sits for the artist in. the Historical Art Museum, where the directors’ office has been fitted up for bhe'purpose. One hundred pen and ink drawings by the late George Du Mauner,wlhlc.n belong to his etate, have just arrived in New York from London. TheQt are the originals of his famdus satirical single illustrations well known in “Pimeh.” l f The oldest actor In the world ' Henry Doel. He will be 93 on his nex birthday, and was an actor for Sixty»- five ycars. As a. child he was rowed out to Plymouth Sbulnld and saw Nap- oleon walking the quarter deck of tlhe Belleubplion. i Mother Gonzaga Kelnnelly, who is said to have been the oldest nun in Ireland, died recently at the Ursuline convent, Blackrock, County Cork. This reverent mother had spent sixtyâ€"three years at the convent, and was 88 years old when stile died. I. Lady Henry Somerset is about to place in the centre of‘ her “ temper- ance village,” Duxhurst, in Surray, a heroicrsized figure of Christ. The statue, moulded by Percy Wood, reâ€" presents the Saviour with hands out- stretched, and is not altogether un- like the beautiful statue by ’l‘hlorwald- seln. . it has been decided that the mlonrup men: to Lord Leighton shall take the form of a. recumbent sepulchral figure of the late President of the Royal Ao- ademy, to be placed in. the nave of St. Paul’s cathedral. To Mr. Brock, R.A., has been intrusted the execution of the work, which will be of am orn- ate character, and in bronze. Sylvia Du Mnurier, blue of Du Maurier’s loveliest daughters, appren- ticel herself to Mrs. Nettleship, a. fa- mous London dressmaker, for a year, and went bravely through all the drudgery of dressmaking, from the beginning to the finish: Now, as she has married a. brilliant but struggling young barrister, she designs and makes her own costumes. Jenny Lind’s (daughter, Mrs. Ray- Illlblll'Li Maude. of London, has much of her mother's brilliancy of voice, but has always refused to cultivate it for this stage. “i suppose there was too much music at. home,” she explained to a. friend. Jennie Lind herself became tir- e‘l of the stage and retired at the height. of her popularity. Mrs. Maude has three. children, none of whom is musical. . The young Queen of Holland objects to beng regarded as a child any more. Recently she entered the Cabinet- room during a session of this Council, and in a dignified manner asked the Prime Minister why the postage stamps continued to bear her image as a little girl. Then heir Majesty requested that the objectionable stamp be discom- tinued as soon as pessi‘ble. King Osrnlr of Sweden has just com- pleted a. novel in w'hirjh, his grand- mlother, the wife of )‘Iarshal Bern-a;- dotte, is the heroine. Her maiden. name was Desiree Cll‘ary. In her youth she was associated With Napoleon and his brother, Joseph Bonaparte. Her sis- ter ,Julie Clary. married Joseph, and she herself was affianced to Napoleon for atime, but dismisselil him because of his attentions to women of greater. note in Paris. Finally Desiree marâ€" ried Bermatlotte. a young officer who rose from the ranks of the French army to become a marshal, Prince of Ponto- cervo. and King of Sweden.