Kilmeny of the Orchard

A young April wind, as fresh and sweet as if it had been blowing over the fields ofmemory instead of through dingy streets, was purring in the tree-tops andwhipping the loose tendrils of the ivy network which covered the front of the mainbuilding. It was a wind that sang of many things, but what it sang to each listenerwas only what was in that listener's heart. To the college students who had justbeen capped and diplomad by "Old Charlie," the grave president of Queenslea, inthe presence of an admiring throng of parents and sisters, sweethearts and friends, it sang, perchance, of glad hope and shining success and high achievement. It sangof the dreams of youth that may never be quite fulfilled, but are well worth thedreaming for all that. God help the man who has never known such dreams-who, as he leaves his alma mater, is not already rich in aerial castles, the proprietor ofmany a spacious estate in Spain. He has missed his birthrigh