ere
talking They looked back for a last glance at the beach. Still the notes
of the guitar came gently across the quiet water; but there mingled with
them now the sound of the lady's voice. She was singing. The little girl
and the dog were at her feet, and the gentleman was still in his old
place close at her side.

In a few minutes more the boat rounded the next headland, the beach
vanished from view, and the music died away softly in the distance.

LAST LEAVES FROM LEAH'S DIARY.

3d of June.--Our stories are ended; our pleasant work is done. It is a
lovely summer afternoon. The great hall at the farmhouse, after having
been filled with people, is now quite deserted. I sit alone at my little
work-table, with rather a crying sensation at my heart, and with the
pen trembling in my fingers, as if I was an old woman already. Our
manuscript has been sealed up and taken away; the one precious object
of all our most anxious thoughts for months past--our third child, as we
have got to call it--has gone out from us on this summer's day, to seek
its fortune in the world.

A little before twelve o'clock last night, my husband dictated to me
the last words of "The Yellow Mask." I laid down the pen, and closed the
paper thoughtfully. With that simple action the work that we had wrought
at together so carefully and so long came to a close. We were both
so silent and still, that the murmuring of the trees in the night air
sounded audibly and solemnly in our room.

William's collection of stories has not, thus far, been half exhausted
yet; but those who understand the public taste and the interests of
bookselling better than we, think it advisable not to risk offering too
much to the reader at first. If individual opinions can be accepted as
a fair test, our prospects of success seem hopeful. The doctor (but
we must not forget that he is a friend) was so pleased with the two
specimen stories we sent to him, that he took them at once to his
friend, the editor of the newspaper, who showed his appreciation of what
he read in a very gratifying manner. He proposed that William should
publish in the newspaper, on very fair terms, any short anecdotes and
curious experiences of his life as a portrait-painter, which might not
be important enough to put into a book. The money which my husband
has gained from time to time in this way has just sufficed to pay our
expenses at the farmhouse up to within the last month; and now our
excellent f