gayety with which the air is saturated.

You ask me also how it happens that I am living again "near by Quincy?"
As true as you live, I never thought of the coincidence. If you please,
we pronounce it "Kansee." When I read your question I laughed. I
remembered that Abelard, when he was first condemned, retired to the
Hermitage of Quincy, but when I took down Larousse to look it up, what
do you think I found? Simply this and nothing more: "Quincy: Ville des
Etats-Unis (Massachusetts), 28,000 habitants."

Isn't that droll? However, I know that there was a Sire de Quincy
centuries ago, so I will look him up and let you know what I find.

The morning paper--always late here--brings the startling news of the
assassination of the Crown Prince of Austria. What an unlucky family
that has been! Franz Josef must be a tough old gentleman to have stood
up against so many shocks. I used to feel so sorry for him when Fate
dealt him another blow that would have been a "knock-out" for most
people. But he has stood so many, and outlived happier people, that I
begin to believe that if the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, the
hides, or the hearts, of some people are toughened to stand the gales of
Fate.

Well, I imagine that Austria will not grieve much--though she may be
mad--over the loss of a none too popular crown prince, whose morganatic
wife could never be crowned, whose children cannot inherit, and who
could only have kept the throne warm for a while for the man who now
steps into line a little sooner than he would have had this not
happened. If a man will be a crown prince in these times he must take
the consequences. We do get hard-hearted, and no mistake, when it is