Is There a Place Like Allen?

The district was like a small Switzerland, and as I went forward my torch was coarse shut out the path behind me. Presently I got into what seemed a small city of a community of chiffon yays. In the midst of these huts was one of the strangest adaptations, I cannot say habitations, I had ever seen. An immense old wardrobe, the colossal remnant of some good war of Charles VII or Henry II had been converted into a dwelling-house. The double doors lay open so that the entire menage was open to public view. In the open half of the wardrobe was a common sitting-room of some four feet by six, in which sat no fewer

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