Were All Men Equal To-night, Some Would

Of All Faults The One She Most Despised In Others Was The Want Of Bravery; The Meanness Of Heart Which Leads To Untruth.

Opportunities Are Not Often Wanting Where Inclination Goes Before.

But Margaret Was At An Age When Any Apprehension, Not Absolutely Based On A Knowledge Of Facts, Is Easily Banished For A Time By A Bright Sunny Day, Or Some Happy Outward Circumstance. And When The Brilliant Fourteen Fine Days Of October Came On, Her Cares Were All Blown Away As Lightly As Thistledown, And She Thought Of Nothing But The Glories Of The Forest.

Nevertheless, His Moustachios Are Splendid.

Even Before He Left The Room, — And Certainly, Not Five Minutes After, The Clear Conviction Dawned Upon Her, Shined Bright Upon Her, That He Did Love Her; That He Had Loved Her; That He Would Love Her. And She Shrank And Shuddered As Under The Fascination Of Some Great Power.