The

rollers, attracts a large audience of interested spectators. making of these soaps is an old process revived, the ash of plants being used in their composition instead of the somewhat cheaper caustic soda.

Almost at the end of the village street, the castellated art gallery looming behind, are two structures suggesting Tomorrow and contrasting Yesterday. The deepcaved cottage with white-washed walls is a typical fisherman's dwelling, built of cobbles gathered on the beach, and consisting of but one apartment. A glimpse into the interior reveals the soft glow of a hearth whose warmth and radiance are fed by a peat fire, at which a kindly visaged Kerry fisher-woman sits knitting. There is a bed covered with a patchwork quilt, in every corner, and despite this baneful fact, the

dwelling has the cosy air of a well-loved home. The religious emblemism so dear to the Irish appears in the colored Madonna picture pinned against the wall. A world of good feeling is expressed in the fervent "God bless ye, sir," with which the old woman closes the door upon the manager.

The pretty, red-tiled, bay-windowed building alongside the cottage contains four bright little rooms, including a kitchen with model range, and a pantry. These, with half an acre of ground, are let to Messrs. Maclinton's workpeople for two shillings per week.

With a glance at the model cowsheds, the cottages where the colleens dwell under the supervision of a matron, and a flying visit to the vegetarian restaurant with its airy, picturesque interior-where the colleens and boys trip it in impromptu "Barney-dance" after

erection of the home of the ancestors of the late President McKinley, the door, windows, rafters, etc., having been conveyed from the original dwelling to Conagher, Co. Antrim. Through a wicket we pass by a side-door into the interior, which has two main rooms. The first of these, like the fisher-family's apartment, is chiefly given over to heirlooms by way of family beds, each with its treasured quilt, or curtains of homespun linen. The McKinley family probably did not, however,

"Say, Steve, d'ye think I can buy an awful ugly valentine for five cents ?"

Steve Hunter gave a queer, short laugh, and shoved another forkful of hay into the manger in front of Black Prince before he turned to the angry little figure standing just inside the big barn door.

"Why, what's the matter, Billy?" he asked, good naturedly. "Have you and your best girl had a falling out?"

"No," disdainfully, "it's Miss Summers. I saw a dandy in the store window when I come from school last night, and if you don't think it'll be more'n a nickel. I'll send her that one. My golly, but I bet she'll be mad! Won't it be fierce to see her! It was a dressmaker, you know, with long scissors, a hook nose, and false hair. Do you think that'ud be the thing or would you send her the one with the waist like a wasp?"

"For Marian Summers! Why, Billy boy, what an idea! I always understood that you thought her the very nicest girl around.'

"So I did, but my mind's changed. I think she's the meanest old thing that ever growed, and I wish mother'd never let her come here to sew again. She made me get a lickin' this mornin'-leastways it was mostly her fault," twisting and untwisting the long fringe of his woolen muffler, and swallowing hard before adding, "I wanted some pictures to make a pretty valentine for-for someone, and was cuttin' a few out of that big book of views that sister

brought with her from Californ when of course along comes Miss Summers. Seems like girls allus. has to come sneakin' around when a fellew don't want 'em. And when she seen what I was doin' she squealed out, 'Oh Mrs. Hunter, come and see what this dreadful boy has done!' and then, of course, mother come runnin' in, and sister, too, and—I”—

"Did it hurt very much, Billy?" "No, it didn't," heroically, "but I'll get even with her, see if I don't," and little seven-year-old Billy Hunter picked up his books and marched off to school, with the spirit of revenge very strong within his juvenile breast. Leaning against the barnyard fence, his big brother Steve watched the small form until it disappeared from view behind a huge snow drift, a smile of amusement in his pleasant dark eyes.

"Queer little shaver," he said, softly to himself. "He'll forget all about his grievance before he reaches school, and buy candy with his money.'

"Isn't it beautiful out doors this morning?"

Close at his elbow the words were spoken, and with a start the young man turned to confront the speaker. Marian Summers was a pretty girl, and standing with the bright rays of the February sun falling full upon her upturned face, and giving a glint of gold to the shining braids. of brown hair coiled round and round her shapely head, she made as fair a picture of winsome girlishness as ever confounded the heart of bashful lover.

"Why, Steve," she said, lifting a pair of laughing eyes to his face, which turned scarlet under her glance, "I believe I startled you, didn't I?"

He nodded, for the moment rendered speechless by the nearness of the girl he had worshiped at a distance for so long.

"I was thinking," he said, somewhat sheepishly, "and the snow is so soft and deep I didn't hear you coming."

"Yes, isn't everything lovely," indicating by a sweep of her small brown hands the level, glistening fields, the ice-covered streams, and distant white crusted mountains. "Do you remember that song we used to sing at school, Steve?"

"Earth has donned its fairest robing, 'Tis the bridal of the year; On her bosom flash the diamonds

In the sunshine, pure and clear."

"I always think of that on a day like this. But, dear me, I forget what a hurry I am in! I heard you telling your mother that you intended driving into town this morning in the cutter. Will you do a small errand at the store for me while you are there? that is if it won't be giving you too much trouble," she added, smiling so sweetly into his face that the warm blood again rushed even to the roots of his hair.

He wanted to say that to be allowed to always do her bidding would afford him more pleasure than anything else in the world, but somehow, the words stuck in his throat, and he could only nod his head stiffly.

"I have written the things down here," she went on, handing him a small memorandum slip, which she took from the tiny pocket of her white apron. "Just a piece of gilt paper, some Cupid heads

and a few other things that will go to the

making of a gorgeous valentine for Billy. Billy. Poor little fellow! He was trying to make one himself this morning to send to little Allie Alder, and I guess I was the means of getting him into trouble over it, so I must try to make amends to him in some way—”

"Yes, I know," interrupted Steve, the daring thought which just then occurred to him making his small brother's voice seem of no importance. "Perhaps I may not get the things to suit you," he said, with a boldness that surprised himself, "Don't you think you had better ride into town with me and see about them? We need not be gone long, you know-the sleighing is capital, and I think you would enjoy it."

"Thank you so much, Steve, but I can't go," she answered simply. "I must finish your sister's dress this afternoon; she wants it for the party over at Marsh's tonight.”

And then big, bashful Steve Hunter did something which surprised himself still more. Bending. he gently laid his hand over the girl's fingers as they rested upon the top rail of the fence beside them.

"Marian," he said, awkwardly, -"if I could have my own way you should never do another stitch of that hateful sewing again for any

one."