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"What I say, Mr. Alymer! You--admire Miss Dallas?",

This latter was a tall and massively framed negro woman, with very little of the traditional merry nature of the black about her. She looked rather like a priestess, with her stern face and stately mien; and, indeed, in the West Indies, it was known among the negroes that Dido was high in power among the votaries of Obi. She could charm, she could slay by means of vegetable poisons, and she could--as the negroes firmly believed--cause a human being to dwindle, peak and pine, by means of incantations.,

These lads, named respectively Maurice Alymer and David Sarby, were in no way related to the major, who, as has been stated before, was a bachelor; but they had entered into his life in rather an odd fashion. Alymer was the son of a beautiful girl with whom Jen had been passionately in love, but she did not return his affection, and married one of his brother officers, who was afterward killed in the Ashantee war. On returning to England Jen cherished a hope that she would reward his love by a second marriage, but the shock of her husband's death proved too much for the fragile widow. She died within a week after receiving the terrible news, and left behind her a wailing infant, which was consigned to the cold charity of indifferent relatives.,

A curtain interposed between the head of the patient and the light of the window. This Jen drew aside, and lightly removed the outside wrappings of the wound. The housemaid looked on in horror, for she did not dare to prevent her master from meddling, yet she felt sure that he was doing wrong. But Jen was bent on making the discovery as to whom the handkerchief belonged; and in a few minutes he had the outside bandages removed, and saw the handkerchief discolored with dry blood lying over the wound. With deft fingers he lightly touched the four corners. In one of them were the initials "M. D."

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"What are you two conspirators hatching up over there in the corner?" called Bruce from the fireside. "We're making out our schedule, and you don't know what you're missing!",

All eyes were upon him as he crumpled his napkin into a hard ball and crushed it between his flexible fingers, while his face assumed an earnest and rather anxious expression.,

I'll never forget my first real party. I was bridesmaid for Caroline Evans, when she married a Birmingham magnate, from which Hillsboro has never yet recovered. It was the week before the wedding. I was sixteen, felt dreadfully unclothed without a tucker in my dress, and saw Alfred for the first time in evening clothes—his first. I can hardly stand thinking about how he looked even now. I haven't been to very many parties in my life, but from this time on I mean to indulge in them often. Candle-light, pretty women's frocks, black coat sleeves, cut glass and flowers are good ingredients for a joy-drink, and why not?,

"Well then, she rebuked him thoroughly for his variable though severe criticisms, and stated, with some emotion, that the Board should be enlightened as to his unfitness, through his captious temper, for the delicate task of nourishing the tender sensibilities of the budding artist."