WARS WITHIN THE BREAST The next morning came in frigid and gray.

The unseasonable numerals which the meteorologist recorded in his tables might have provoked a superstitious lover of better weather to suppose that Monsieur Danny, the head imp of discord, had been among the aerial currents.

The passionate southern sky, looking down and seeing some six thousand to seventy-five hundred of her favorite children disconcerted and shivering, tried in vain, for two hours, to smile upon them with a little frozen sunshine, and finally burst into tears.
In thus giving way to despondency, it is sad to say, the sky was closely imitating the simultaneous behavior of Aurora Nancanou.

Never was pretty lady in cheerier mood than that in which she had come home from Honore's counting-room.

Hard would it be to find the material with which to build again the castles-in-air that she founded upon two or three little discoveries there made.