rd those storied islands of
the north which, it may be, he has never seen: the land which, in some
cases, even his parents have not seen since their childhood.

'Here,' he may be imagined saying, as he looks about him among the raw
uprising products of the new land, where the past is nothing and all
hope centres upon the future, 'Here everything is yet to do;
everything is in the making. Here, money's the only reward. Who's to
judge of one's accomplishment here? Fame has no accredited deputy in
this unmade world. Whereas, back there, at home--' Oh, the magic of
those words 'At Home!' and 'In England!' alike for those who once have
seen the white cliffs fade out astern, and for those who have seen
them only in dreams, bow on!

Everything has been tried and accomplished there. The very thought
that speeds the emigrant pulls at the heart-strings of the immigrant;
drawing home one son from the outposts, while thrusting out another
toward the outposts, there to learn what England means, and to earn
and deserve the glory of his birthright. That, in a nutshell, is the
real history of the British Empire....

But, as I said, before final recognition of the determination to go to
England came my youthful love affair. With every apparent deference
toward the traditions of romance, I fell in love with the daughter of
my chief; and my fall was very thorough and complete. I was in the
editorial sanctum one afternoon, discussing some piece of work, and
getting instructions from Mr. Foster--'G.F.' as we called him--when the
door was flung open, as no member of the staff would ever have opened
it, and two very charming young women fluttered in, filling the whole
place by their simple presence there. One was dark and the other fair:
the first, my chief's daughter Mabel; the second, her bosom friend,
Hester Prinsep.

'Oh, father, we're all going down to see Tommy off. I want to get some
flowers, and I've come out without a penny, so I want some money.'

My chief had risen, and was drawing forward a chair for Miss Prinsep.
I do not think he intended to pay the same attention to his daughter,
but I did, and received a very charming smile for my pains. Upon which
G.F. presented me in due form to both ladies. Turning then to his
daughter, he said with half-playful severity:

'You know, Mabel, we are not accustomed to your rough and ready Potts
Point manners here. We knock at doors before we open them, and do at
least inquire if a man i