off and telegraphed his departure. He had dined with the Prince from three to four, and had just time to dress for another dinner at the Duc de Gramont's at six! To do him justice he got through his second meal wonderfully well, all things considered. He was much pleased with the Prince, who had been extremely gracious, inquired after me, given him cigars, remembered having seen him as a child at Rome, asked him where he had got his dark hair, etc., etc.
"The party at the Duke's was very small—the two attachés, Musurus, an English attaché, and ourselves. After dinner the gentlemen went to smoke, and I had a long tête-a-tête with Mme. de Gramont. She is a really lovable person, quiet, kind, and always the same. We talked of Scotland; the Duke had informed me at dinner 'que son beau père était le chef du clan des MacKinnon.' He, the Duke, was partly brought up in Scotland, and has shot grouse. The little Duc de Guiche and his sister were in the drawing-room—nice, clever children, but much spoilt by the attachés, who pay them assiduous court. At nine we left to end our duties at the Comtesse Cellobiano's. There we found all the usual set—Mme. d'Arvilars, Mme. de Robilant, under whose protection I established myself, the Palavicini, who was repeating to everybody what the Chief had rather imprudently told her—' que si on lui envoyair un Prince tousles jours il doneriat sa démission.' There were charades going on, and it would have been amusing enough, only it was all I could do not to go to sleep. C., after his two dinners, was somewhat in the same condition. He, however, presented Lord de Burgh. tie is decidedly amusing, with a strong accent. Irish, I suppose. He was much shocked at discovering that he had never inquired for Mme. Uebel, and asked if I thought if he were to call twice in one day to ask how she was, that would make up for the neglect!
"To-night we are revelling in a quiet evening. To-morrow, alas! The Salmour receives, and on Wednesday Mme. de Gramont. To-day I have been stupid and tired all day; I am not used to such doings, and then the effort to talk to strangers, and try and remember the different people, amongst the crowd of strange faces, I find dreadfully fatiguing."
What Lies Beyond?
BY MARY THACHER HIGGINSON
HER voice was tranquil, but her words a moan,
And in her eyes lurked half-forbidden fears:
We hasten onward to the dark unknown.
I dread the sweep of the relentless years!
"Could I in these accustomed paths still stray!
Or, if I must plunge on into the night,
Could see one step of the mysterious way!
O comrade soul, lend me thy keener sight!"
Then he, whose rich eventful life now flows
Like some full, singing brook to meet the sea:
"Until the riddle's solved, the interest grows.
One more surprise is still in store for thee."
