f education who is notified that he has inherited wealth at
home but prefers to stay with his woodland wife--a beautiful Indian
girl--rather than return to the granitic conventions of the old world,
and to the busy idleness that goes by the name of society.

And why deny that their hearts are a-brim with dreams, for these are
beautiful reveries and worthy the most chivalrous of knights. Since it
was given me to look into the recesses of their minds I have liked them
better than ever and am many times heartily glad. Any woman who is a
gentleman would.

And here Opportunity has spilled a whole trainload of women before
them--old and young, wise and otherwise. It would be tempting the
patience of Providence if they didn't meet the train, these bachelors
who would gladly lose a rib.

"Such a waste of excellent material," says a poetess who looks over the
bachelors with an appraising eye. "How big they are! Someway or
other, they make me think of steel girders."

"Ragingly handsome, I call them," says a petite miss who edits a page
on a big eastern daily. "Do you think it possible, Lady Jane, that
they--could--have--holes--in--their--socks?"

"Not only possible, My Dear, but highly probable," I reply.

"What odds?" asks Cy Warman, the poet. "It is recorded that President
Taft was noticed to have a hole in his sock when he took off his boots
in a Tokyo tea-room."

"I am persuaded," remarks an historian who has been listening, "that it
is the duty of the Prime Minister of Canada to import wives for the
bachelors who live on the frontiers. He has most excellent precedent
in the case of Talon, the Intendant, who in 1670, because of the
disparity of the sexes in this country, imported one hundred and
sixty-five young women. Moreover, Talon specified that in sending out
these girls from France, the King should see that they had good looks
and were strong and healthy."

"My fellow-women!" interrupts a society reporter, who is an incarnation
of frankness, "lend me your ears; I won't need your money. I intend
coming here to live. No longer will I remain a martyr to good form. I
am weary to death of musicales and other entertainments of an
objectionable character. I intend to quit the 'best circles,' the
'local coteries,' and the '_haut noblesse_ in favour of a man with a
bungalow at Jasper, and for these delectable mountains with the glories
thereof. Now, what do you say to that?"

"Taken," replies a distinct