You see I am in brilliant Paris, in a palatial hotel, enjoying all the luxuries wealth can procure, and Madame Millefleur is my companion.

The contrast between my life this week and my life last is somewhat striking.

The frowning countenance of Mrs.
Stanford is replaced by the ever-smiling face of my dark-eyed Adele, and the shabby lodgings in Crown street, Strand, are exchanged for this chamber of Eastern gorgeousness.

I am happy, and so, no doubt, are you.

Go back to Canada, my dear Mrs.Stanford.
Papa will receive his little runaway with open arms, and kill the fatted calf to welcome her.