the crippled old built-in range in Hannah's kitchen. They every one agreed in buzzing whispers that the place was a perfect rattle-trap, and they could not imagine how any people could move out leaving a house so dirty as the last inmates had done. The young men gaily took turns drawing water from the ancient clanking pump outside the kitchen-door, and bringing in armfuls of firewood. Children raced and romped with a thunderous uproar in the big echoing rooms. In the evening there was a curtain rigged between the Parthenon pillars, and a play was given in which Teddy Johns appeared and sang the kind of topical song popular in those days, of which I remember one verse: "The gloaming one day was beginning to gloam, That's all, that's all! When I heard someone say 'The Incurables' Home? That's all, that's all! He told me of servants they had more than eight, And he thought that the one poor old battered inmate Must certainly live in magnificent state, That's all, that's all!" A humorous effort which was received with great applause, the paucity of Incurables, and the disproportionate energy of their Lady Managers being a standing joke in our community. Mrs. Oldham was rumoured to have remarked acutely upon being applied to for a donation to the Home, that the only thing incurable about it was the idiots who ran it. Teddy sang and swaggered through his part in a very amusing fashion; he was good at that sort of entertainment. The fete--anything carried on out-doors was a fete in those days--was a success, netting _the_ Incurable the handsome sum of fifty-one dollars twenty-seven cents, according to Mrs. Lewis' report. And the next day everyone in town was circulating the story of how some blundering or malicious person actually went up to poor Gwynne Peters and asked him where Sam was and what he was doing!