it down Miss SMEET'S neck as I found her
leaning over the side of the pier, and then ran away. I heard her
murmur, "Someone's mistaken me for the post-office."

It is still raining, but I am quite happy. I have seen her again, and I
feel that she loves me. It was impossible to mistake the _tendresse_
with which she murmured, "post-office." In my little note I requested
her to send a reply to this hotel. I have asked her to tell me plainly
what her income is, and to state on what conditions she will forfeit it.
Of course, she has no income now, as she is a minor, but I would wait a
year or two for a certainty. Shall I write her some verses--lines to a
minor, or thoughts on the Southampton quay? Perhaps I had better wait
until I obtain the statistics. Ah, here is JAMES, bringing me a note. It
must be from my darling--no, it is from Mademoiselle.

DEAR SIR,--Miss SMITH am going away to Londres. A
telegram come for her, and I look over the shoulder. It
say, 'Poor TOMMY'S kicked! Come at once,' Miss SMITH
make the tears.

Yours,
LUCIA DONNERWETTER.

I must be off to London and get this matter traced. JAMES entreats me to
buy a new hat when I am away. He says it's bringing disgrace on the
hotel, and keeping away custom. What! Give up the hat which her dear
foot has kicked! Never! But, perhaps, I will have it ironed. The iron
has entered into my soul, and perhaps, it would be doing more good on my
hat. Yes, I will have it ironed. It does look a little limp. Ironed or
starched--what matter, when my darling is gone, and left me with no
information as to her income?

(_To be concluded in Two more Chapters._)

* * * * *

"Venice Preserved" in The Haymarket.

No--not OTWAY'S tragedy, and not under Mr. BEERBOHM TREE'S management,
but at the Gallery next door to the Theatre, and under the
superintendence of Mr. MCLEAN, you will find not only Venice, but
Florence, Prague, Heidelberg, Capri, Augsburg, Nuremburg, Innsbrueck, and
a good many other picturesque places, preserved in about a hundred
water-colour drawings, by Mr. EDWARD H. BEARNE. If there were not so
many rivers and lagoons in the exhibition, it might be called the
"Bearnese Oberland." These pictures are well painted, and, during the
gruesome weather, a tiny tour round this sunny gallery is mighty
refreshing.

* * * * *

STUDY FOR THE PELICAN CLUB.--The "Logic and P