IT WAS dull and rather cold, but a pleasant day for walking. French tramped along, enjoying the motion and the extended view offered by the wide, open spaces of the moor. Though, owing to the atmosphere, the coloring was neither so warm nor so rich as it had previously appeared, there was a fascination in the scenery which strongly appealed to him.By FREEMAN WILLS CROFTS
THE gulf stretched a limitless sheet of shimmering iridescence straight to the gates of heaven; crimson gates which burned ruby-red beneath a dome of opaquest turquoise. Thus it appeared to sixteen-year Olga, standing motionless as a young goddess on her pedestal of flat tidewashed rock, fairy tales still in the eyes no less blue than the sweep of Russian sky above her; warmth in the cheeks flushed the pale rose-tint which lined the soft cloud cradled like an angel-wing near the rosy ether; passion in the sweet curved lips which had caught the fire of the sunset, and all womanly ideals in the straight majestic still fullness of her body.By ALBERTA C. TRIMBLE
THE DIM blur of the mate’s pyjamas stirred. His rattan chair creaked as he stretched, and the end of his cheroot made a bold red arabesque against the sky. “Excuse me, Doc.,” he yawned. “I’m dead for sleep.” “Why don’t you turn in?” “Oh—I don’t know; these sultry nights—and—” He interrupted himself to call, softly.By NORMAN REILLY RAINE
TWENTY years have passed since those lines were written; to-day the last vestiges of the olden time have vanished. There is nothing to remind one that this old port on the Fundy shore— a city of hills and spires and quaint narrow streets by the dockside— was once the home of the stateliest ships that sailed.By LOUIS ARTHUR CUNNINGHAM
IT'S my favorite view," said Doc Campbell, as he piloted me towards his office window and printed to the river below and the forests beyond. "That's where it all begins.” A bunch of lumberjacks were poling logs towards the conveyor chute. They moved along the swaying boom with clumsy agility, guiding the sixteen foot lengths of spruce and balsam towards the mill.By ARTHUR LOWE
IT SEEMS a pity that that excellent and once popular song: 'Bye, bye, blackbird' has gone the way of all the earth. So thought Ausonia Dill as metaphorically she took it from the shelf and dusted it, and gave it a vigorous rendering in a full, rich contralto.By BERNARD J. FARMER
MRS. MILBAY lost her daughter Nell so gradually that for quite a while she did not realize that she was lost. Two reasons she did not sooner feel that she had lost Nell were Jessica and Norbert, her other children. Jessica was in the Eighth Grade and in so many ways like what Nell had been that she rather slipped into Nell's place in Mrs. Milbay’s motherly concern, and Norbert—being still almost a baby—demanded a great deal of attention.By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER
RICHARD BEDFORD BENNETT, jurist and financier, vested with the mantle of Macdonald; Meighen, the Ney of post-war Toryism, confirmed in retirement; a funeral oration and burial for the Hamilton speech; party ranks reformed and revitalized for battle; Protection reaffirmed, but with muffled drums— such is the tale of the Winnipeg Convention of the Liberal Conservative Party.By M. GRATTAN O’LEARY
AN EXAMPLE of native art that is most arresting may be seen by the tourist in Northern Ontario at the little town of Iron Bridge on the main trunk highway between Sudbury and Thessalon. It shows beyond a doubt that the citizens of the place have a sense of humor.
A FAVORITE saying of dear old Canon Scott, beloved chaplain of the First Canadian Division, was “The Lord will provide.” I adopted this as my motto when I set out from Vancouver to walk over the new Cariboo Automobile Highway and into the wilderness which lies beyond.By LUKIN JOHNSTON
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