The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs. But this was long ago. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. We are not animals. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. ” He grabbed a sword from the wall of arms. I'll remember that. Mr.
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