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"Of course not," answered Nan; and then, feeling some embarrassment in the pause that followed, she continued: "You have just lately come to the office, Mr. Herps?" "Yes, I was only discharged from the army a month ago. My Colonel used his influence to get me into the ministry here until things became normal." His eyes had been resting on the booklet in Nan's hands as he spoke. She followed his glance, and decided that emigration would be a good topic of conversation until she had finished lunch. "I'm just wondering," she explained, "which part of the world I should emigrate to as soon as this country can do without me." "Well, that's a coincidence!" said Herps, "for I've been wondering just the very same thing." The waitress interrupted them for his order. When he had given it, he pulled a few pamphlets out of his pocket. ''Have you seen these?" he asked, and his eyes were losing some of their graveness. How easy it was to speak to this sweet little girl ! He wanted to tell her lots of things, although this was only the second time he had spoken to her. He was a lonely man, with few friends and no home ties. Life had been a very grey, disappointing business since he had come out of the hospital. He had felt like a loose thread, with no particular aim or ambition, and very conscious of his loneliness. The thought of emigrating to a new land and, as it were, starting life over again, was the one and only thing over which he felt or showed the least enthusiasm. Nan looked over his booklets. "Yes, I've got most of them. They all looked so inviting that it's difficult for one to decide, isn't it?" "Yes. I suppose the best thing to do is to get to know where one's particular talents will be most appreciated. Structural engineering is my forte, and a man was advising me to-day to try the Argentine." "Oh, you'll have no difficulty. A man never has. A hundred positions will present themselves to you. But it's different with a girl, the end of war has placed such crowds of us on the business market. And then I'm only a shorthand typist. I see from this Queensland booklet that typists get good pay in the sugar plantation offices. She held out the leaflet to him. "I don't know much about Queensland," he said, "but I know a fellow in France who came from there; his father had a big sugar place. I wonder if I could get some particulars of the life and business prospects from him?" "Oh, I would be very grateful if you could!" said Nan. They left the lunch-room together, each carrying the little bundle of emigration papers which were to decide their desti-

864 IMPROVEMENT ERA

nies. Nan returned to her parlor-bedroom and her pile of darning with a light heart and a song on her lips. Lee Herps entered his boarding-house whistling a line of popular ragtime, and with a gladness in his serious grey eyes. Each had found a friend. # * #

There are few prettier walks round the suburbs of Leith than the long, undulating road that winds its way eastwards along the Fitzroy plateau. If one follows the road far enough, it soon leaves Fitzroy behind, and meanders through a picturesque little village. One pleasant December afternoon, Nan and Lee Herps set out upon the Fitzroy Road. Their friendship had already ripened considerably. It was not the firat time they had walked together to the little village through which the long road passes ere it loses itself in the hills. On this particular day they did not speak of their emigration schemes. It was practically decided that Queensland was the place for Nan. Herps' soldier friend had sent a glowing account of the congenial conditions of labor in that thriving part of the universe. And Herps himself was in communication with the Argentine government regarding a fine position there. "What a day!" exclaimed Nan, inhaling deep breaths of the pure air. "Doesn't our native land look grand even in the winter?" "Rather!" replied Herps. "Great old place, North Britain, isn't it? Sort of gets round your heart-strings and refuses to be dislodged. I'm beginning to feel quite sorry at the prospect of leaving it, aren't you?" "Yes; I am. Somehow, you forget about the dullness of the winter and the greyness of the days by the time the first snowdrop appears and the sun warms the heart of the world." From a rise on the road they looked down upon the little village. They observed the old village well, its ivy-covered little church and school. They watched the lazy smoke rise from the peaceful roofs in the still December air, they saw the well-kept gardens and the muslin-curtained windows, behind which little scenes of love and happiness were enacted every day. They heard the shrill laughter of little children around the doors, which made the scene more divine, and the contented clucking of some hens over their afternoon meal. "It would be heaven," murmured Herps softly to the girl at his side. He caught her arm and gently wheeled her round so that she stood facing him. He watched the lovely color that flooded her face, and his voice trembled. "Nan, don't go away. Let us stay in North Britain, dear little girl. Nothing could be better than this village here." "It's lovely. Oh, I don't want to leave it."

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Nan's eyes were shining, and her lips quivered with tenderness. "Well, we won't. The cottage at the end of the row is empty. We'll take it. I love you, and I won't let you go." He took her hands in his, and waited breathlessly for her decision. "I'd rather have the end cottage than anything in the world except —you." The road is a public one and on a Sunday there are many passers-by. Lee Herps slipped his arm through the arm of the girl he loved, and together they went off to inspect "their" cottage. That night Nan, with a happy smile, consigned her emigration booklets to the waste-paper basket, but Lee Herps kept his to adorn the shelf of the book-rack he meant to have in their after-the-war cottage parlor.

Thou Supreme, Sweet Evening Star

thou sublime, sweet Evening Star, Let soft thy radiance beam afar, And send thy chaste and mellow light On waves of peace this balmy night. Aye, shed thy gleam to soothe and bless The weary and the comfortless; Thou, one brief moment, canst beguile Their tender yearning with a smile.

Lend, too, the charm of thy pure ray O'er pathways of the good, the gay, And, in thy genial, cherished glance, Some new-learned rapture oft enhance.

For eyes that sparkle young and fair, For heads bent low with silv'ry hair, For young or old, forlorn or gay, Shed forth thy holy gleam, I pray.

thou serene, bright Evening Star, Shed forth thy radiant beam afar, O'er those who sleep, o'er those who wake, Let fall thy smile, for Hope's sweet sake Minnie Iverson Hodapp.

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THE PEACE CONFERENCE AT VERSAILLES |

The skill, the patience, the genius of man has |

now accomplished those results which for ages |

1 have been deemed impossible, which have been 1

considered as the dreams of the mad. As Daedalus foretold, like the eagle or the stormy |

| petrel, man spreads broad wings that bear him |

1 above the highest mountain peaks, and over the 1

1 still or turbulent seas like the swift dolphin or the ; | huge leviathan, he swims beneath and outspeeds |

1 the driven wave; with a knowledge that appears 1

1 like the art of magic, he sends his words through 1

| space, making the distance across the lands as | though it were not, and passing over the out- =

1 stretched ocean brine from coast to coast of con- 1

| tinents, from zone to zone, instant transference of 1

| his thoughts around the world. | Yet better than this, the Intelligence of Man
struggles to make true the Hope of the Ages, the 1

| longed-for Republic of Plato, or, beyond that, the | modern thought A League of Nations, that Right | and Justice Hate shall recoil shall prevail, that 1 upon itself and die, and Love be triumphant in 1

| the Souls of Men. 1 Contemporary with the Wars of Athens were 1 the Teachings of Socrates; the cruelties and prides \

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