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Then the chief made a gesture that signified that he could not speak for emotion, and shed tears as though an expensive album had not been presented to him, but on the contrary, taken from him . . . . Then when he had a little recovered and said a few more words full of feeling and given everyone his hand to shake, he went downstairs amid loud and joyful cheers, got into his carriage and drove off, followed by their blessings.

He remembered how, soon after he went to Eton, he had received almost with incredulity the news of the death of his god-father, Lord Stackley, an octogenarian.... He took from the table his album, knowing that on one of the earliest pages was inscribed his boyish sense of that bereavement.

Penniman, the album upon Winona, and the invigorator upon the now embarrassed judge. "Thank you, Wilbur, dear!" Mrs. Penniman was first to recover her poise. "Thanks ever so much," echoed Winona, doubtfully. She must first know that he had come by this money righteously. The judge adjusted spectacles to read the label on his gift. "Thank you, my boy. The stuff may give me temporary relief."

"Charming," replied Etta. The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords. "I must see you, princess," said De Chauxville. Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz. "Alone," added the Frenchman coolly. Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph. "Must!" she said, with a little frown. "Must!" repeated De Chauxville.

He was shown into the empty drawing-room, where, after pacing up and down, he was reduced to the society of a photograph album, which, in his present excited condition, could do little to soothe the tumult of his mind. Not that any discredit should be thrown on Mrs.

Felicia, to avoid thought, fixed her eyes persistently on that monotonous procession, of exasperating length, and gradually a sort of torpor stole over her, as if on a rainy day she were turning the leaves of an album with colored plates lying on the table of a dreary salon, a history of state costumes from the earliest times to our own day.

One of them was immensely stout, wore a bright green cap, with half-a-pint of scarlet cherries bobbing on her brow. She talked on all subjects, and handed round an album full of her own poems on all occasions. The second must have been a sister of 'Mr. T.'s Aunt, so grim and incoherent was she.

The Spanish proverb says, "Tell me who you are with, and I will tell you what you are." Ours, in that album age, used to be, "Show me your scrap book, I will tell you your character." Emily's was not one commencing with "I never loved a dear gazelle!" and ending with stanzas on the "Forget-me-not." It had not those hackneyed but beautiful lines addressed by Mr. Spencer to Lady Crewe

"Well, she is very happy," said Caroline, with a sigh. TWO lovely damsels cheer my lonely walk. LAMB: Album Verses. AFTER dinner there was still light enough for the young people to stroll through the garden. Mrs. Merton, who was afraid of the damp, preferred staying within; and she was so quiet, and made herself so much at home, that Lady Vargrave, to use Mrs.

To tell the truth, I think they had become so satiated with sensations that they were sure that the thing was put up by some muckrakers and that there would be an expose of some kind. For the thief, whoever he was, seems to have taken nothing from my library but a sort of scrap-book or album of photographs. It was a peculiar robbery, but as I had nothing to conceal it didn't worry me.