surrounded herself, are precisely those to whom short stories should, and do, happen. Next time, however, I hope Mr. NORRIS'S inspiration will be less fragmentary but equally happy. * * * * * _Johnnie Maddison_ (SMITH, ELDER) was nice. And here and now I wish to propose a vote of thanks to Mr. JOHN HASLETTE for having the uncommon pluck to create a hero neither handsome nor strong. Brave of course he had to be, or how should that which is written in the proverbs have been fulfilled, but "he was slight," "he stooped a little," "he had an ordinary face." (What hopes that brings to the hearts of some of us!) For the rest, he lived in Sta. Malua, to which tropical port came _Molly Hatherall_, intending to be married to a handsome scamp who spent all his salary as a mining engineer and all the money he could borrow from friends in losing games of poker to a man who made a profession of winning them. Why he should have wanted to do this (for it seemed to be his solitary serious vice) in a place like Sta. Malua I cannot imagine. But there it is. For one reason or another the marriage was delayed, and after a long mental struggle _Jno. Maddison_, who had fallen in love with _Molly_, decided to tell her what kind of man her idol of romantic chivalry really was. It raises, you see, a nice point of ethics, since _Edmund Serge_ was popular at the club and, except for the brand of the poker on his forehead, a pretty good fellow. Unfortunately Mr. HASLETTE rudely slices the knot of his difficulty by making _Edmund_ embezzle money and abscond at the critical point of the story. The telling of the yarn is a little humdrum, but gains from a comparative leniency in the matter of local colour--for I feel that Sta. Malua is the sort of place which might have been rather ruthless about this--and the suspended banns keep the interest fairly warm. But I am not sure that _Johnnie Maddison_ might not have been nicer if he had escaped a suspicion of priggishness and lost a trifle now and then at progressive whist. * * * * *