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Outing . um of money which lifted thefated family out of want, and revivedthe fainting spirit of hope. Love hadconquered, and hope, though long de-layed, had happily stopped, on thethreshold of the bourne, the unwittingpilgrims. Fate, who sometimes exercises her-self in the destiny of even so poor athing as a penny pencil, ruled that Ishould once more, by and by, fall intothe hands of a writer of stories. Butsomewhat of the mind and will of myfirst mistress had passed into me duringthose long hours of her nervous graspupon a medium so sympathetic ; and indrawing what she believed in the outsetto be purely a fictitious sketch, my latermistress begins to feel conscious as shedraws toward its close that she is butaiding me in giving to the world a truestory, as pathetic as it is common ; inthe accomplishment of which I cheer-fully consume the rest of my event-ful existence, reserving only enough tosubscribe myself, Yours truly, A Penny Pencil. m THe CBTY ©F THe VHITe ©©VI By Aw«fcft® J©s®$. AWAY from the dingy shores andthe low gray clouds of northernlands ; away from sunless wa-ters and bitter winds, to theazure of eternal summer, a wealth ofcolor wondrously harmonized, and thepearly glow of an enveloping brightness.The realms of achievement, of deedsthat endure, and the witchery of sciencefade gradually out of the horizon andthe memory, and are superseded by thewarm, caressing breezes, the swayingprofile of citron and palm, the whitewalls of great mosques, the winding,irregular streets and carved lattices,groups of silent Moors and white-veiledwomen, and the composite odor ofmusk, tobacco, coffee, attar-of-roses,dates and hashish. It was not yet dawnof a late November morning when theship, Kaiser Wilhelm, which had broughtus from Gibraltar, glided silently intothe harbor of Algiers. As the stars were lost in the grayfirmament, going out like untrimmed lamps, the yellow tint of thelights that had illuminatedthe city, seemed to lack brill-iancy. The sky, a soft