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her letters Corporal Dan Fuselli. He must be more careful not to do anything that would get him in wrong with anybody. He must never miss an opportunity to show them what a clever kid he was. Oh, when we're ordered overseas, I'll show them, he thought ardently, and picturing to himself long movie reels of heroism he went off to sleep.A sharp voice beside his cot woke him with a jerk. Get up, you. The white beam of a pocket searchlight was glaring in the face of the man next to him. The O. D.

t I did not expect to be called upon to speak so soon. Still the bare suggestion that this is the fit and proper time for speech sent me immediately to my task: from it I have returned with such results as I could gather, and also with the wish that those results were more worthy than they are of the greatness of my theme.It is not my intention to lay before you a life of Faraday in the ordinary acceptation of the term. The duty I have to perform is to give you some notion of what he has done

ation of the truth that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points. For in order to arrive at one's destination, it is usually necessary to go about sixty miles out of one's way,--hence the necessity for Talbot's going to Boulogne in order to get a train running north.He arrived at Boulogne only to find that the train for B---- left in an hour. He strolled out into the streets. Boulogne had then become the Mecca for all those in search of gaiety. Here were civilized people once

grandsons had made friends, although both the boys' fathers knew, and approved of it, although for somewhat different reasons.The Whitefoot boy, Mr. Davenant had said to his wife, is, I fancy from what I have seen of him, of a different type to his father and grandfather. I met him the other day when I was out, and he spoke as naturally and outspokenly as Walter himself. He seems to have got rid of the Puritanical twang altogether. At any rate, he will do Walter no harm; and, indeed, I should

roprietor in turnips or mangold-wurzel.Mr. Traveller having finished his breakfast and paid his moderatescore, walked out to the threshold of the Peal of Bells, and, thencedirected by the pointing finger of his host, betook himself towardsthe ruined hermitage of Mr. Mopes the hermit. For, Mr. Mopes, by suffering everything about him to go to ruin, andby dressing himself in a blanket and skewer, and by steeping himselfin soot and grease and other nastiness, had acquired great renown inall that

arks of any sort. All round us, turn which way we might, nothing was to be seen but the majestic solitude of the hills. No living creatures appeared but the white dots of sheep scattered over the soft green distance, and the skylark singing his hymn of happiness, a speck above my head. Truly a wonderful place! Distant not more than a morning's drive from noisy and populous Brighton--a stranger to this neighborhood could only have found his way by the compass, exactly as if he had been sailing