made me one of their own. I shall never be able to repay all the loving thoughts and deeds of that family and shall remember them while I live. My chum's mother I call Mother too. It is to her that I have dedicated this book.

After my delightful few days of leave, things moved fast. I was back in Dover just two days when I, with two hundred other men, was sent to Winchester. Here we were notified that we were transferred to the Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment.

This news brought a wild howl from the men. They wanted to stop with the Fusiliers. It is part of the British system that every man is taught the traditions and history of his regiment and to know that his is absolutely the best in the whole army. In a surprisingly short time they get so they swear by their own regiment and by their officers, and they protest bitterly at a transfer.

Personally I didn't care a rap. I had early made up my mind that I was a very small pebble on the beach and that it was up to me to obey ord

through the dining-room, which, as Anthony took only breakfast at home, was merely a magnificent potentiality, and down a comparatively long hall, one came to the heart and core of the apartment--Anthony's bedroom and bath.

Both of them were immense. Under the ceilings of the former even the great canopied bed seemed of only average size. On the floor an exotic rug of crimson velvet was soft as fleece on his bare feet. His bathroom, in contrast to the rather portentous character of his bedroom, was gay, bright, extremely habitable and even faintly facetious. Framed around the walls were photographs of four celebrated thespian beauties of the day: Julia Sanderson as "The Sunshine Girl," Ina Claire as "The Quaker Girl," Billie Burke as "The Mind-the-Paint Girl," and Hazel Dawn as "The Pink Lady." Between Billie Burke and Hazel Dawn hung a print representing a great stretch of snow presided over by a cold and formidable sun--this, claimed Anthony, symbolized the cold shower.

The bathtub, equipped w

r of Courtrai. "I have come here for that."

Dirk slightly smiled.

"Should I know more than you?"

The Margrave's son flushed.

"What you do know?--tell me."

Dirk's smile deepened.

"She was one Ursula, daughter of the Lord of Rooselaare, she was sent to the convent of the White Sisters in this town."

"So you know it all," said Balthasar. "Well, what else?"

"What else? I must tell you a familiar tale."

"Certes, more so to you than to me."

"Then, since you wish it, here is your story, sir."

Dirk spoke in an indifferent voice well suited to the peace of the chamber; he looked at neither of his listeners, but always out of the window.

"She was educated for a nun and, I think, desired to become one of the Order of the White Sisters. But when she was fifteen her brother died and she became her father's heiress. So many entered the lists for her hand--they contracted her to you."

Balthasar pulled at the orange tassels on his slee

to be made and received, being pleasant or otherwise, according to whether callers and called-upon were heartily in sympathy with Anne's hopes, or thought she was too much puffed-up over going to college and that it was their duty to "take her down a peg or two."

The A.V.I.S. gave a farewell party in honor of Anne and Gilbert one evening at the home of Josie Pye, choosing that place, partly because Mr. Pye's house was large and convenient, partly because it was strongly suspected that the Pye girls would have nothing to do with the affair if their offer of the house for the party was not accepted. It was a very pleasant little time, for the Pye girls were gracious, and said and did nothing to mar the harmony of the occasion -- which was not according to their wont. Josie was unusually amiable -- so much so that she even remarked condescendingly to Anne,

"Your new dress is rather becoming to you, Anne. Really, you look ALMOST PRETTY in it."

"How kind of you to say so," responded Anne, wit

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door--

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,

"Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,

"Lenore!"--

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore--

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--

hall tell a story that may appear goodly, now we have heard that of Lauretta? Certes, it was well for us that hers was not the first, for that few of the others would have pleased after it, as I misdoubt me[199] will betide of those which are yet to tell this day. Natheless, be that as it may, I will e'en recount to you that which occurreth to me upon the proposed theme.

[Footnote 199: Lit. and so I hope (spero), a curious instance of the ancient Dantesque use of the word spero, I hope, in its contrary sense of fear.]

There was in the kingdom of France a gentleman called Isnard, Count of Roussillon, who, for that he was scant of health, still entertained about his person a physician, by name Master Gerard de Narbonne. The said count had one little son, and no more, hight Bertrand, who was exceeding handsome and agreeable, and with him other children of his own age were brought up. Among these latter was a daughter of the aforesaid physician, by name Gillette, who vowed to the said Bertrand an infinite love and fervent more than pertained unto her tender years. The count dying and leaving his son in the hands of

4. How many Elementary sounds do the vowels represent?Fifteen.

15. How many do the Consonants represent?Eighteen.

16. How many do the Combinations represent?Seven.

17. How many do the Diphthongs represent?Only one, as oi and oy only repeat sounds already represented by aand i.

18. How many sounds has A?Five.

19. What are they?Long, Short, Medial, Flat, and Broad.

20. How many sounds has E?Two.

21. What are they?Long and Short.

22. How many sounds has I?Two.

23. What are they?Long and Short.

24. How many sounds has O?Three.

25. What are they?Long, Short, and Slender.

26. How many sounds has U?Three.

27. What are they?Long, Short, and Medial.

28. How many sounds has B?One; as heard in the word babe.

29. How many sounds has C?None that may

the actual composition of the volume fora small fee. It is only necessary that the young lady's name shouldappear on the title page."

"That's true," said Corky. "Sam Patterson would do it for a hundreddollars. He writes a novelette, three short stories, and ten thousandwords of a serial for one of the all-fiction magazines under differentnames every month. A little thing like this would be nothing to him.I'll get after him right away."

"Fine!"

"Will that be all, sir?" said Jeeves. "Very good, sir. Thank you, sir."

I always used to think that publishers had to be devilish intelligentfellows, loaded down with the grey matter; but I've got their numbernow. All a publisher has to do is to write cheques at intervals, whilea lot of deserving and industrious chappies rally round and do the realwork. I know, because I've been one myself. I simply sat tight in theold apartment with a fountain-pen, and in due season a topping, shinybook came along.

I happened to be down at Corky's place when

these transformations all the other physical properties of a substance save weight are likely to change, the inquiry arises, Does the weight also change? Much careful experimenting has shown that it does not. The weight of the products formed in any change in matter always equals the weight of the substances undergoing change.

~Law of conservation of matter.~ The important truth just stated is frequently referred to as the law of conservation of matter, and this law may be briefly stated thus: Matter can neither be created nor destroyed, though it can be changed from one form into another.

~Classification of matter.~ At first sight there appears to be no limit to the varieties of matter of which the world is made. For convenience in study we may classify all these varieties under three heads, namely, mechanical mixtures, chemical compounds, and elements.

[Illustration: Fig. 1]

~Mechanical mixtures.~ If equal bulks of common salt and iron filings