garden divine. These flowers of changing hues, falling into the great
river, became the Thousand Isles--the Paradise of the St. Lawrence."

It is a study to watch the different expressions and manners of the
people whom we meet. There is the woman who, on meeting makes one feel
that they have passed through some difficult surgical operation, her
look is so hard and penetrating, like the surgeon's knife. Then another
with an expression so benevolent, so charitable, that one is inclined to
turn again to catch one more glimpse of the kindly face. A little
farther on we see a young girl, with a look so joyous and happy, so
entirely free from care, that we are impelled to search for the rosy
glasses through which she views life. Time, the dispeller of all golden
hued visions, has left her mind untouched, and she retains the joyous
dreams of youth.

There is another with a look of discontent, amounting to almost misery.
The rose-colored glasses have been broken early, and she is gazing
through the murky, cloudy atmosphere of discontent. Another young girl
is passing, and look closely! her face is a study, with its varying
expression, reflecting every passing mood, then gay, now sad. The world
either hardens or breaks the heart. Which process is her heart
undergoing? In a few years, meeting her again, the face will be the page
on which the story will be written in full, either in sombre tints or
golden gleams.

Once more look at the daintily dressed woman coming down the street. She
was made for sunshine and happiness, adversity would kill her. There are
women who give one the impression that they should have all the good
gifts which the gods provide, should be carefully looked after, tenderly
cared for, they will share your joys, but no need to tell them your