"Well, you know," Sir Robert replied, "Carlyle lived in a house that stood on Thames gravel. Perhaps that accounted for his dyspepsia and her headaches. But I can tell you this: One day Mrs. Carlyle sent a message, saying she wanted to see me particularly. But I was not to go until she sent for me, and that would be when Thomas was away, for if he was at home when I called, she wouldn't be able to get a word in edgeways!" HARRY HOW. _Beauties:--Children._ [Illustration: _From a Photo. by J. Weston & Son, Folkestone._ ELSIE KATE BIRCH] [Illustration: _From a Photo. by Dighton, Cardiff._ Winifred Gascoyne Dalziel] [Illustration: Phyllis Maude Wallis] [Illustration: _From a Photo by A. Weston, London, E.C._ Gladys Herbert.] [Illustration: Erna Collins.] [Illustration: Doris Collins _From Photos. by Macey, Hampstead._] [Illustration: _From a Photo. by T. Fall, Baker Street, W._ ELSIE DIEDRICHS] [Illustration: _From a Photo. by Lombardi & Co., London, S.W._ DOROTHY NORCUTT] [Illustration: _From a Photo. by Brandseph, Stuttgart._ Kathleen White.] THE ADJUTANT'S LOVE-STORY FROM THE FRENCH OF LE COMTE ALFRED DE VIGNY. [Illustration] I. I was brought up in the village of Montreuil, by the curé of the place. The happiest period of my life was that time when I was a choir-boy, with plump, rosy cheeks, a clear voice, and fair hair, wearing blouse and sabots. As I had given evidence of possessing a musical ear, the good father, who had himself been in former days a notable singer and choir-master at Notre Dame, kindly taught me my notes. "Listen, Mathurin," he said to me one day: "you are only a peasant's son, but you know well your catechism and sol-fa, and some day, perhaps, if you are good and industrious, you may become a great musician." This speech filled me with pleasure and pride, and I twanged more frequently and vigorously than ever upon my teacher's shrill and discordant old harp. The favourite recreation of my leisure hours was to walk to the farther end of the park of Montreuil, and to eat my dinner there with the workmen who were building, in the avenue of Versailles, a little music pavilion, by order of the Queen. It was a charming spot. I used to take with me upon these excursions a little girl of my own age, named Pierrette, who, because she had such a pretty voice, was also taught to sing by the curé. In her hand she would carry a large slice of bread-and-butter, with which her mother, who was the curé's housekeeper, had provided her. Together we watched with great interest the growth of the pretty little house. Pierrette and I were at that time about thirteen years of age. She was already so beautiful that strangers would pause by the way to pay her compliments, and I have seen grand ladies descend from their carriages in order to caress her. She loved me as a brother.