“I’m fine,” she said softly. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. But I can't submit to hear the wellearned reputation of my friend termed an 'infamous notoriety. It was obvious that he had waited for her. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. ” She murmured. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through.
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