The story: Compelled to flee from Ireland by Sir Peter de Launay, whom he wounds, Sir Michael Mohan, with a henchman, Barney O’Pray, arrives in Paris. Beautiful and wealthy Diane de Mervule le reciprocates his love, and they are eloping when the King’s soldiers intercept them and Diane is sent home, while Michael and Barney are exiled to New France in company with the King’s Jester.By Louis ARTHUR CUNNINGHAM
EVERY crook instinctively knows that sooner or later he must expect a showdown with the police. So long as he can avoid their attention, just so long has he a tremendous advantage over his less fortunate fellows. Once that advantage disappears, much of his energy and ingenuity is expended on matching wits with the police rather than in forwarding the job in hand.By T. MORRIS LONGSTRETH, HENRY VERNON
WE SAT on the narrow verandah of the Château Ducharme, Follansbee and I, with feet propped against the railing and chairs tilted to their back legs, while cigarettes glowed in the dusk. Soon Follansbee would say, "Let’s stroll down the line and find a rubber of bridge;” or friendly fingers would tap a drum call on the window to summon us inside.By LESLIE ROBERTS
BUT really, mother, he’s not the sort for you.” Kitty’s blue eyes flashed. She was just fifteen; a coltish girl with long slim legs, yellow hair, and a high spirit; but already she stood a full inch taller than her mother, Joan, and she had all the confidence that five-feet-three possesses when talking down to fivefeet-two.By PEREGRINF ACLAND
MR. HENRY WELLAND, of Welland, Hotchkiss and Juniper, leaned across the glass-topped mahogany desk and poked one end of a goldrimmed pince-nez at the young man who sat on the edge of the purposely uncomfortable chair that was provided for those who sought interviews with the senior partner.By LESLIE GORDON BARNARD
HOLD ’em, Joe! Only a minute more!” Crouched behind the roped area enclosing the Redeliff goal, old Tom Rennie shivered with excitement. The Rangers’ goalkeeper grinned. Eyes glued to the bobbing ball, he growled: “All right, Tommy. We’re movin’ up, old-timer.”By RONALD TUCKWELL
EVERY Saturday night, nearly a million Canadians fill the pews of the film temples. They are being entertained by Hollywood, and they pay from a quarter to half a million dollars for the evening. They attend dramas which have been shipped about the Dominion in cans.By JAMES A. COWAN
IN CANADA golfing has become so popular that more than $100,000,000 has been invested in the game by about 175,000 players. Of these, about 250 are professionals; and, while no accurate figures are available as to the number of amateurs who are able to play par golf, it seems probable that not more than six or seven per cent of them can accomplish the feat with any degree of consistency.By JOHN HOLDEN
THIS is the story of a man who has one consuming and abiding passion—the growing of nuts: walnuts, chestnuts, pecans, ginkos, hazels, almonds, filberts. His name is J. U. Gellatly, and his farm near the station of the same name in the Okanagan Valley, British Columbia, is one of the most curiously unique farms in the Dominion, for it is devoted not to the raising of cereals or cattle or vegetables but to the production of hardshelled tree fruit.By E. L. CHICANOT
ALL DAY the prospector paddled the rock-rimmed river in northern Saskatchewan, and all day the breeze followed, carrying a faintly acrid odor. Toward dusk the wind freshened, bringing clouds of smoke on the wings of an approaching storm.By A. J. DALRYMPLE
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