gifts stood me in good stead. I will not attempt to recall, so old-fashioned do they seem nowadays, the movements that were popular when I was a girl. What has become of you all now, my partners in those distant Georgian drawing-rooms? If you still live, do you still remember as I remember the measures we trod, then so riotous-seeming? The Monkey-grip, the Kansas scramble, the “Mind your foot, honey,” the Snake-glide, the Anyhow-slither, the Buzz, the Rattle-snake Fight, the Darkies’ Stagger, and all the rest of them? When I remember all the friends so linked together I’ve seen around me fall like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one that treads alone some banquet hall deserted. —or does nothing really desert us, except our dreams? But what is this? I am becoming sentimental. Let me return to the grim shades of my prison, the dull days of school routine. I had an open, sunny temperament, and made friendship easily; some, as I suppose is usual at that age, seemed at the time as if they could end only with life. And yet, how little effect really our school friendships have on us! Ten years after we have left, we meet the bosom friends of girlhood as strangers. Some of them, of course, have married: and with them, try as they may to conceal it, it is hard not to feel that their husbands have just a suspicion of jealousy against their wives’ woman friends. But even with the others, Through what climes they’ve ranged, how much they’ve changed! Time, place, and pursuits assist In transforming them— perhaps, after all, it is best so: for neither our critical faculties nor our sense of humour are at their best in those early years. My chief crony was a wild, devil-may-care Irish girl whom we called “Squint” Hennessy, who led me into plenty of scrapes and more than once brought me under the threat of “Standard Eight.” One of these escapades cost me, I think, the most anxious night of my life.