to the floor. His eyes open. Meg draws further into the shadow. How thin his face-how thin-but suntanned and healthy-looking also. She can see the blue veins in his hands, they are so white. As he stretches one out towards the vase and selects one of the largest daisies-a faint, sad smile flits over his face. The breeze seems to have died away. It is very still everywhere, except for a voice in the distance singing rather out of tune, “When the Kye come Hame." "A little, passionately; not at all," says John. "A little, passionately; not at all. A little, passionately "Always, always and forever. John, John My own true love! It is I, Meg, your Meg, and all my heart is yours." LONGFELLOW. HERE, where the sunbeams steep the meadows wide Of quaint Grand Pré, I stand where he did stand, Watching the ancient dykes that keep the tide From creeping stealthily upon the land, On Minas Basin-and the mists that fold About old Blomidon, so gaunt and grey. Acadia, you owe a debt to him Who sings of you, in notes so sweet and strong That hearts must thrill, and eyes grow soft and dim, The while rings through the world that wondrous song. What though upon his grave the grass is green? He cannot die who wrote Evangeline. JEAN BLEWETT. AT NIGHTFALL. LITTLE hands, long vanished in the night- The shadowy organ sings its songs again, The dead years turn to music at its voice, FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT. THE HE whole unfortunate business be pleased if I asked her at the table. was brought about by the abominable behaviour of Mrs. VanSawder's electric lights. We were all sitting at dessert, very fashionable, very well behaved and very dull. The anxiety of Mrs. VanSawder about her dinners invariably infected her guests, and we were, I think, unfeignedly relieved that the footman had steered clear of disastrous breakers, and the cook safely navigated us to our present port. On one side of me sat Miss Sperring -a mere shadow in the prevailing gloom; but on the other was Bridget. Bridget is well, just Bridget, and I should have been more than content with my geographical position at the table, if it had not been that the Other Fellow sat on her left hand. Bridget was charming to us both; she has just that fascinatingly shy manner which can only be successfully assumed by persons of irreproachable breeding, who have been through two seasons at least. I had made up my mind to propose; so, I felt convinced, had the Other Fellow. There was not a moment to be lost; still, I fancied she would not How should it be done? I stared abstractedly at the Man Opposite, lost in thought. Suddenly I became aware that the Man Opposite was smiling at Bridget. I turned fiercely; she was poising a morsel of peach on the end of her fork, and listening with largeeyed, innocent sympathy, to some thing the Other Fellow was saying. Suddenly the lights went outabruptly, completely, without even a preliminary flicker. Somebody gasped, someone else's fruit-knife dropped with a clatter, and there was a slight clink of glass. Then dead silence and thick, velvety darkness. I seized my opportunity. I do not attempt to excuse myself; any man with Bridget next him would have done the same thing. I leaned slightly toward the left; my moustache brushed a cheek not a hundred miles away from my own; I kissed it; I whispered "Darling," and the lights flashed up again. I did not dare to look at her; I occupied myself in soothing Miss Sperring's maiden fears. When I did steal a side glance in the other direction Bridget was leaning back in her chair, scarlet from brow to chin; her shoulders were heaving under their satin band. The Other Fellow had nearly turned his back on her. How would she take it? Suddenly she turned to me and smiled shyly. My heart leaped. "You got it?" I said rather incoherently. "Yes," she murmured. "I am so glad; but it was rather embarrassing!" "Suppose the lights had not gone out!" I said. "I should have got it afterwards," she answered, with a little bewitching tilt of her chin; "Shouldn't I?" "I should have taken care of that," I said. Then the Other Fellow struck in, and I fell into a blissful silence. Presently Mrs. VanSawder "picked up the eyes," and the ladies drifted on billows of silk out of the room. When we followed them, the Other Fellow got to the drawing-room first, and marched-confound his cheek! straight to the cushioned window seat where Bridget was waiting for Me. "My dear fellow," I said, tapping him on the shoulder, just as he was about to gather up his coat tails, "I know you will forgive me if I ask you to leave Bridget and me to a little têtea-tête. I have something very special to say to her." "Well, upon my word, I like that," he cried wrathfully; "suppose I have something very special to say myself?" "There, there," I replied soothingly, "of course you don't understand. It |