hear. As I
disclosed the sorrow of Anthony's life and related the particulars of
his career, the effect upon her was not at all what I had expected. She
became more and more excited and distressed. At last she called sharply
to her servant-girl, Melissa, and told her to go and bring Father
Michael, and to bid him come immediately. While Melissa was gone, Mrs.
Brown, with a great deal of agitation in her manner, proceeded to
question me in regard to the incidents of Anthony's career in
Philadelphia, and frequently broke out with the exclamation, "Why could
we not have known?"

Soon Father Michael came, and the woman assailed him at once in a harsh
and accusing manner, speaking in the French language with great
volubility. He replied to her in the same tongue. There was only here
and there a word that I could understand. It was plain, however, that
there was a contest between them, and that it related to my deceased
friend.

By degrees the matter was so far made plain that I understood that
Anthony was not the son of Mrs. Brown, but was of the purest white blood
and connected with people of rank. Beyond this I was not permitted to
know his history. When I asked questions, Father Michael replied that it
was better "not to break through the wall of the past." He said it was
too late now to aid Anthony, but added that the trouble might have been
averted if it had been known at the time.

A day later I took my departure. As I travelled back to Whitesboro I
reflected upon the strange events that had shaped Anthony's career. When
I turned on the Steuben hills and looked once more upon Castorland, it
seemed to me a region of mystery; and the useless tears fell from my
eyes as I remembered how one of its secrets had darkened the life of the
dearest friend of my youth.

I subsequently learned that Miss Allen, of Philadelphia, suffered
indirectly from the effects of Anthony's misfortune. She was not able to
forget the man she had chosen.

I have never learned the facts in regard to the early history and real
parentage of Anthony Calvert Brown.

P. DEMING.

* * * * *

THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SHORT-STORY.

When artists fall to talking about their art, it is the critic's place
to listen to see if he may not pick up a little knowledge. Of late,
certain of the novelists of Great Britain and the United States have
been discussing the principles and the practice of the art of writing
stor