ed
cold and threatening; it flowed towards the sea with an angry rush; our
vehicle was refreshing itself before the door, and the horse and driver
had taken refuge in the stable. The tops of the surrounding hills were
hidden in mist; everywhere the rain roared. The scene was dreary and
desolate in the extreme.

At this moment the driver appeared. "Was it of any use waiting? He knew
the climate pretty well; the rain would never cease till sundown. Had we
not better make the best of it and get back to Morlaix?"

We thought so, and gave the signal for departure. Our patience was
exhausted--and so was our coffee. Our hostess was distressed. At least
we would borrow an umbrella, and her husband's thick coat, and perhaps
her shawl for our knees. She was too good; genuinely kind hearted; and
in despair when we accepted nothing. We bade her farewell, settled her
modest demands, and set out for Morlaix.

Arrived at the hotel like drowned rats, Madame was all anxiety and
motherly solicitude, begged us to get between blankets and have tisane
administered or some eau sucree with a spoonful of rum in it. She
bemoaned the uncertainty of the climate, and hoped we were not going to
have bad weather for our visit. And when we declined all her polite
attentions, assuring her that a change of clothing was all we needed,
and all we should do, she declared that she was amazed at our temerity,
but that she had the greatest admiration for the constitution and
courage of the people of Greater Britain.

AFTER TWENTY YEARS

BY ADA M. TROTTER.

"May you come in and rest, you ask? Why of course you may. Take this
rocking-chair--but there, some men don't like rockers. Well, if so be
you prefer it, stay as you be, right in the shadder of the vines. It's a
pretty look-out from there, I know, all down the valley over them meadow
lands--and that rushing bit of river.

"You ask me if I know'd one Kitty Larkins, the prettiest gal in the
county, the prettiest gal anywheres, you say. Yes, sir! I know'd her
well. Dead? Yes, sir, Kitty--the bright, gay creature folks knew as
Kitty Larkins died this day twenty years ago.

"Do I know how she died and the story of her life? I do well; I do;
p'raps better nor most. You want to hear about her; maybe you would find
it kind of prosing; but there, the afternoon sun _is_ pretty hot, and
the haymakers out there in the meadows have got a hard time of it.

"What's that! Don't I go and lend a hand in t