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My thanks. See he is fed
And cared for.
(Lay Brother hands him a letter and exit. Fra Antonio reads quietly the first half, then starts, gives a cry of astonishment, and re-reads a portion.)
What! What's this? (reads) "A strange event-
Who paints most wondrously-Paolo named—
Paolo happy! prosperous!
(He walks wildly about, his hands fumbling nervously with his crucifix.)
The love of woman make him happy, great!
Oh, God, why dost Thou let Thy will be hid,
(Enter Paolo, travel-stained and weary. He walks dejectedly over to Fra Antonio and kneels humbly before him. His voice sounds dead as he speaks.)
I have come back, thou see'st.
Fra Antonio (recovering from his amazement makes an involuntary motion to take the boy into his arms, then checks himself sternly.)
There came but recently some news of thee
She left me-.
With the first fire-eating captain courted her.
I have come back (bitterly) repentant.
God be praised!
Paolo (who has caught sight of the veiled picture)
Praise God that this is left to me,
A relic of my purest happiness, when I
Thinking that she had loved me, worked to prove
(Crosses to picture, but hesitates before it, as if afraid to
remove the drapery.)
Fra Antonio (joyfully)
Thank God, my son,
I have destroyed it. It had been to thee
(Paolo tears off the drapery, and at sight of the mangled face, drops on his knees in tearless despair. Fra Antonio goes to him, and rests his hand caressingly on his shoulder.)
Thank God, my son, that, once again, thou see'st,
And once more thou art whole. Thank God! Thank God!
(His eyes beam on the crouching boy with a sweet and wonderful tenderness. For he does not see the blind misery and utter hopelessness in Paolo's eyes.)
As the 1906 LIT. Board resigns its charge into others' hands, it glances backwards with mingled satisfaction and regret. The Board must regret the fact that it has not always made the most of its opportunities, although it is very probable that few Boards do. But on the whole it is with satisfaction that the Board throws that one last glance backward before it passes from the ken of Yale literary life. For the LIT. has helped its 1906 Editors; and they are happy in the thought that they may in some degree have helped the LIT. to its ultimate end, helped it to be all that the name implies: THE YALE LITERAry Magazine.
J. N. G.
Mama had a headache and was resting: so we three girls set out alone down a long street to the end of the town, and then managed to get safely over a damp pathway to the edge of the beach. The MONCTON BORE. river was way below us. It is pretty wide, but terribly muddy; and near the other side there were great clay flats which were anything but picturesque. At high tide, with forty feet more of water, it's a good deal prettier, they say. We walked along the beach a little ways, then sat down in front of a sort of wooden enbankment which they have to keep specially high tides out. There wasn't a soul in sight except a group of little boys way down by the water's edge. They were fishing for eels, we found out. Mamie and Jess both wanted to go down closer; but I thought we had better not, because the hotel clerk said the bore was sometimes six or eight feet high and I was afraid we might be splashed.
While we were waiting we had quite a discussion about what a bore was. Mamie thought it must be something like a whirlpool, with a hole in the middle of the river like what a great gimlet might bore. But the picture in the circular didn't look like that. Jess thought that a long curvy mass of water wriggled up the river like a bca. But we thought that would be almost too poetical for these Canadians. Mamie said it might be a sort of solid lump of water which rushed up furiously, like a wild-boar! But that would be terribly farfetched, and I didn't believe it was a bit more likely than what Jess said. I finally guessed they call it a bore because it keeps you waiting so long without doing anything—like R———— (you know)! When I get home I mean to look it up in the dictionary.
Well, suddenly there were two or three ripples the least little bit of a stir in the water-and we expected to see the bore coming. Of course we were all excitement, but nothing happened! The boys had moved up out of the way with their baskets and poles, and stood not far from us throwing little lumps of mud toward the river. Mamie insisted on asking them about the bore, and I finally let her.
They were terribly polite to her, but she found they would only speak two or three French words which she couldn't understood. However, after we had sat waiting a little longer, one of them came to us, touched his great straw-hat and asked in queer English what he might be able to tell for us.
We couldn't think of just what to say; but Mamie finally asked what sort of a thing the bore was.
The little fellow hesitated, then pointed up the river and said something like this: "Bore all pass-today not much good."
Just imagine how surprised we were!
I gave the boy a couple of pennies and he ran off with his hat in his hand. He was too cute!
We decided that the two ripples we had noticed must have been the famous bore! Pretty soon we walked back to the hotel, and the clerk told us that the moon wasn't right for a big bore. He had tried to jolly us once before, so this time we only laughed at him. That night for supper we had celery soup and fried eels and delicious ice cream. I'm glad we stopped there anyway, because we can at least say we've seen it. W. L. Squire.
"Come!" she called softly to him from among the shadows,-"here's a grand place-all pine needles and mossy!' "There?" From the canoe he tossed one of the cushions up among the vague dark trunks just short of where he saw the white of her shirt-waist smothered in the gloom. "And shan't I bring your jacket?" he asked; "it'll be a bit chilly may be, after paddling."
"Oh, no, you silly, I'd roast!" But he brought it. "Now let's fix these pillows so's they're comfortable," she whispered, "There, how's that?" and she drew his head gently down into the hollow of her shoulder.
A "DEUS EX
He had not expected to have arrived so readily at this intimacy and must have submitted rather than responded to her freedom, for she asked again, "All right?" and "Oh, it's great!" he hastened to enthuse.
Together in silence they watched the moon glide lazily from the ragged edge of a great cloud-pack and, over the white meeting house, half hidden by the great black pines opposite, flash a silver-splintered path across the water. The boy raised