mpathetic voice.
Her "Darby and Joan" is always popular. The comic man would also again
appear in the second part, and would oblige with (by request) "His Mother-
in-Law."

So the quaint comedy continues: To-night we will enjoy _Romeo and
Juliet_, for to-morrow we have seats booked for _The Pink Domino_.

What the Gipsy did not mention.

"Won't the pretty lady let the poor old gipsy tell her fortune?" Blushes,
giggles, protestations. Gallant gentleman friend insists. A dark man is
in love with pretty lady. Gipsy sees a marriage not so very far ahead.
Pretty lady says "What nonsense!" but looks serious. Pretty lady's
pretty friends must, of course, be teasing. Gallant gentleman friend, by
curious coincidence, happens to be dark. Gipsy grins and passes on.

Is that all the gipsy knows of pretty lady's future? The rheumy, cunning
eyes! They were bonny and black many years ago, when the parchment skin
was smooth and fair. They have seen so many a passing show--do they see
in pretty lady's hand nothing further?

What would the wicked old eyes foresee did it pay them to speak:--Pretty
lady crying tears into a pillow. Pretty lady growing ugly, spite and
anger spoiling pretty features. Dark young man no longer loving. Dark
young man hurling bitter words at pretty lady--hurling, maybe, things
more heavy. Dark young man and pretty lady listening approvingly to
comic singer, having both discovered: "That's what it's like when you're
married."

My friend H. G. Wells wrote a book, "The Island of Dr. Moreau." I read
it in MS. one winter evening in a lonely country house upon the hills,
wind screaming to wind in the dark without. The story has haunted me
ever since. I hear the wind's shrill laughter. The doctor had taken the
beasts of the forest, apes, tigers, strange creatures from the deep, had
fashioned them with hideous cruelty into the shapes of men, had given
them souls, had taught to them the law. In all things else were they
human, but their original instincts their creator's skill had failed to
eliminate. All their lives were one long torture. The Law said, "We are
men and women; this we shall do, this we shall not do." But the ape and
tiger still cried aloud within them.

Civilization lays her laws upon us; they are the laws of gods--of the men
that one day, perhaps, shall come. But the primeval creature of the cave
still cries within us.

A few rules for Married Happiness.

The