dozing over the journal that he held in his unconscious grasp. Had
one stolen beside him and looked down, he might have read the
following entries, beginning many months previous to this evening.

"January.--I have seen the fair Leah but three times since Bertha
Levy's tea-party, yet I have passed her house daily for that purpose
ever since. Zounds! It's an ill fate, I swear! . . .

"February.--How my heart beat to-day, as I was walking arm-in-arm
with George Marshall, and we suddenly confronted the beautiful
Jewess as she was turning into Prince street.

"'What a magnificent face, Emile! What Hebrew maiden is that bowing
to you?'

"'Miss Mordecai,' I proudly replied, 'the Jewish banker's daughter,
of whom you have heard me speak before.'

"'Yes, certainly. Well, she is beautiful. You seem a little
bewitched, boy,', he said. And I said--nothing.

"March.--I am more and more perplexed. The Jewess is at the bottom of
it all. To-day I hinted to Helen something of my fancy for Leah
Mordecai. She only laughed. I was irritated by her ridicule, and I
told her I intended to marry Leah if I could. Her silly reply was,
'Well, suppose you can't?' School-girls are intolerably silly, at
Helen's age! She thinks now of nothing and nobody but Henry Packard,
and he's the stupidest cadet in the institute--everybody knows that.
I wish I had a sister that could sympathize with me. Wh-e-e-w! I am
altogether out of sorts. Maybe I'll be all right to-morrow.