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    “‘Sister Calline,’ sez I, sorter detarmined lak, ‘I’ve had ten ebry day sisters all my life en sum seben hundred Sunday ones. What I now wants am one wife!’


    But before the words were well uttered, the mast doubled up and coiled like a whip-lash, there was a report like the crack of doom, and half of the thing crashed short over the bows, dragging the heavy sail in the waves.



    Oswald thought.

    “‘I tell thee,’ replied the ancient portress, sorely moved in mind between present duty and service to the noble owner of Haddon and her lingering affection for the good old times, of which memory shapes so many paradises,——‘I tell thee the tower looks as high and as lordly as ever; and there is something about its silent porch and its crumbling turrets which gives it a deeper hold of our affections than if an hundred knights even now came prancing forth at its porch, with trumpets blowing and banners displayed.’

    "Oh, then," she said cheerfully, "that's all right. Would you mind if we started at once?" She turned to Mr. Kennard. "If my husband should turn up after all, would you tell him I've gone? It will serve him right for being so late."



    But have not all men of genius this superb confidence in themselves? I am convinced they have. Could they possibly “carry on” without it? But only a few men of genius have the courage, or the artlessness, to speak what is really in their hearts.

    "I don't know," answered the sergeant, pulling his cap down a little farther yet, and showing his white teeth in a smile. "First time I told her she was pretty—by George!"



    “It would be more respectable,” said Claude. “If getting old is good for anything, you know, it should make up quarrels; don’t you think so? It would be a great deal better in every way. And then Markham——”

    “Art thou here, O spirit?” murmured Basil, half roused, and dazzled by the brilliant light, which seemed a continuation of his dream.

    ——The end of all this was, that I came away from the young fellow’s room, feeling that there were two principal things that I had to live for, for the next six weeks or six months, if it should take so long. These were, to get a sight of the young girl’s drawing-book, which I suspected had her heart shut up in it, and to get a look into the Little Gentleman’s room.

    Thither, still hot and sore of heart, fared Jamie Mackellar. Always during the three days of the Midwestburg dog show Jamie took a triple holiday and haunted the collie section and the ringside. Here more than once his dead chum had won blue ribbon and cash over the exhibits from larger and richer kennels. And at such times Jamie Mackellar had rejoiced with a joy that was too big for words, and which could express itself only in a furtive hug of his collie’s shaggy ruff.

    "And we sha'n't come back till there's a new head master?"

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