d Sylvia, "he will tell me all about it."

"If he does," said Miss Laniston, "you will re-enter a convent."

L.

MY BOOK OF TRAVEL.

When the House of Martha had been formally abolished, the members of the
sisterhood made various dispositions of themselves. Some determined to
enter institutions of a similar character, while others who had homes
planned to retire to them, with the intention of endeavoring to do what
good they could without separating themselves from the world in which
they were to do it. Sister Sarah was greatly incensed at the dissolution
of the House, and much more so because, had it continued, she expected
to be at the head of it. She declared her intention of throwing herself
into the arms of the Mother Church, where a sisterhood meant something,
and where such nonsense and treachery as this would be impossible.

I did not enjoy the autumn of that year to the extent that I should have
enjoyed it had I been able to arrange matters according to my own ideas
of what was appropriate to the case.

Sylvia lived in the city, and I lived in the country, and although I
went to her whenever I could, and she and her mother dined several times
with my grandmother, there were often long stretches, sometimes
extending over the greater part of the day, when I did not see her at
all.

Thus it was that I had sometimes to think of other things, and one
morning I said to my under-study, "Walkirk, there is something I regret
very much, and that is the non-completion of my book. I shall never
finish it, I am sure, because every thing that has ever happened to me
is going to be made uninteresting and tedious by what is to happen.
Travel and life itself will be quite another thing to me, and I am sure
that I will be satisfied with enjoying it, and shall not want to write
about it. And so, good-by to the book."

"In regard to your book," said Walkirk, "I feel it my duty to say to you
that there is no occasion for you to bid good-by to it."

"You are wrong there!" I exclaimed. "I shall never write it. I do not
want to write it."

"Nevertheless," said Walkirk, "the book will be written. I shall write
it. In fact I have written a great part of it already."

"What in the name of common sense do you mean?" I cried, staring at him
in astonishment.

"What I am going to say to you," replied Walkirk, "may displease you,
but I earnestly hope that you may eventually agree with me, that what I
have done is for th