“Yes, Nan Ferris,” she thought, “it is about as that wise old Evelyn says; you have as good a chance as anybody without respect to sex, and you _shall_ be something worthy of existence! You shall do some one thing so well that somebody will be frantic to pay you a fabulous price for it. And what will you do with this wealth?” she went on, addressing herself. “Are you so base that you yearn for filthy lucre for its own sake? No, Nan Ferris, you are not. First you will pay your own little bills, and lighten your father’s cares instead of his pocket; and then, may be, you can go on lovely little sketching tours in the summer; and, perhaps—oh, Nan!—perhaps, if you are a great success, you can go to Europe some time and study art!” This climax of prospective bliss was so top-heavy that the whole delightful pile came crashing down, laying bare to this architect of her own fortunes the uncertain foundation on which she had built. (_To be continued._) A DUEL WITH A STORK. BY FREDERICK J. HIBBERT. [Illustration: I.—THE INSULT.] [Illustration: II.—THE CHALLENGE.] [Illustration: III.—PREPARING.] [Illustration: IV.—PRACTICING.] [Illustration: V.—THE ENCOUNTER.] [Illustration: VI.—OUTNUMBERED AND DISARMED.] [Illustration: VII.—ALLOWED TO RECOVER ARMS.] [Illustration: VIII.—IN FULL RETREAT.] [Illustration: IX.—“YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HIM RUN! HA, HA!”] [Illustration: X.—“YOU NOTICE THAT WE ARE NOT INSULTED ANY MORE.”] [Illustration: XI.—“IT WAS TOO GOOD AN ADVENTURE TO BE LOST. I MUST WRITE AN ACCOUNT OF IT.”] [Illustration: XII.—“JUST IMAGINE HIS FEELINGS WHEN HE READS THIS IN PRINT! THE PEN _is_ EVEN MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD!”] BOPEEP. BY SYDNEY DAYRE. We have been playing bopeep to-day, Out on the sand-dunes along the bay. Who was our playmate, do you think? You couldn’t guess who gave us a wink And hid his face in the funniest place,— Behind a bit of a soft white cloud! And Polly and I we laughed aloud To see how the sun enjoyed the fun. And then he gave us another peep Before we could hide in the sedges deep. Many a little cloud went by, Floating up in the blue, blue sky— Oh, it was jolly for me and Polly To watch the sun look slyly out To see what we were laughing about! We kept as quiet as mice, we two, While he was sailing along the blue, Till he hid behind a patch of white, And then we hurried with all our might To hide again for a little while, Before he came with his beaming smile And seemed to try whether Polly and I Or he could beat, as he went to find Another white cloud to hide behind. At last he was tired, and hid his head In clouds of purple and gold and red; And we were tired, so in we came To tell what a merry, lively game We had in the meadow—just we three The good old sun with Polly and me. [Illustration: “AT LAST HE WAS TIRED AND HID HIS HEAD.”] AN ARMY. BY A. C.