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Fancying that I heard the sound of voices within, I paused to listen But all was profoundly silent Strolling into the hall, I took up at random from a side- table a little volu myself in one of the luxurious Oriental easy- chairs near the silvery sparkling fountain, I began to read I opened the book I held at "A Ballad of Kisses," which ran as follows: "There are three kisses that I call to o,-- The first, a kiss too courteous to be kind, Was such a kiss as monks and maidens know, As sharp as frost, as blameless as the snow

"The second kiss, ah God! I feel it yet,-- And evermore my soul will loathe the saet, But not the touch of that divided shame; It clove my lips--it burnt me like a fla and noon and night, and not amiss Sorrow be mine if such I do refuse! And when I die, be Love enrapt in bliss Re-sanctified in heaven by such a kiss!"

This little gem, which I read and re-read with pleasure, was only one of many in the saenius I studied his word-melodies with intense interest, and noted with soinal and beautiful were many of his fancies and similes I say I noted thelish species His name was not Alfred Tennyson, nor Edwin Arnold, nor Matthew Arnold, nor Austin Dobson, nor Martin Tupper He was neither plagiarist nor translator--he was actually an original ive his name here, as I consider it the duty of his own country to find hie hi, of course it will do in due season On this, my first introduction to his poe to myself softly a verse which I remember now:

"Hers eetest of sweet faces, Hers the tenderest eyes of all; In her hair she had the traces Of a heavenly coronal, Bringing sunshine to sad places Where the sunlight could not fall"

Then I was startled by the sound of a clock striking six I bethoughtto dinner, and decided to go to malion" book on the table whence I had taken it, Ias I went of Zara and her strange request, and wondering what journey she was going upon