Don't You?*

BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE.

When the plan that I have to grow suddenly rich
Grows weary of leg and falls into the ditch,
And scheme follows scheme

Like the web of a dream

To glamor and glimmer and shimmer and seem,
Only seem;

And then, when the world looks unfadably blue,
If my rival sails by,

With his head in the sky,

And sings "How is business?" why, what do I do?
Well, I claim that I aim to be honest and true,

But I sometimes lie.. Don't you?

When something at home is decidedly wrong,
When somebody sings a false note in the song,
Too low or too high,

And, you hardly know why,

But it wrangles and jangles and runs all awry,

Aye, awry!

And then, at the moment when things are askew,
Some cousin sails in,

With face all a-grin,

And a "Do I intrude? Oh, I see that I do!"

Well, then, though I aim to be honest and true,

Still I sometimes lie. Don't you?

When a man that I need has some foible or fad,
Not very commendable, not very bad;

Perhaps it's his daughter,

And some one has taught her

To daub up an "oil" or to streak up a

What a "water"!

"water";

And her grass is green green and her sky is blue blue, But her father with pride,

In a stagy aside,

Asks my "candid opinion." Then what do I do?
Well, I claim that I aim to be honest and true,
But I sometimes lie. Don't you?

* From Impertinent Poems, by Forbes & Co., Chicago. Published by permission.

The Bravest Battle

BY JOAQUIN MILLER.

The bravest battle that ever was fought!
Shall I tell you where and when?

On the maps of the world you will find it not; 'Twas fought by the mothers of men.

Nay, not with cannon or battle shot,
With sword or nobler pen!

Nay, not with eloquent word or thought,
From mouths of wonderful men.

But deep in a walled-up woman's heart,
A woman that would not yield,
But bravely, silently bore her part-
Lo! there is that battlefield.

No marshaling troop, no bivouac song,
No banner to gleam and wave;
But, oh! these battles they last so long,
From babyhood to grave.

Yet, faithful still as a bridge of stars,
She fights in her walled-up town-
Fights on and on in the endless wars;
Then, silent, unseen, goes down.

O ye with banners and battle shot,
And soldiers to shout and praise,
I tell you the kingliest victories fought
Are fought in these silent ways.

O spotless woman in a world of shame!
With splendid and silent scorn,
Go back to God as white as you came,
The kingliest warrior born.

Unexpected Guests'

BY MARGARET CAMERON.

ow Eleanore, if you can't keep out of the way, you run right up stairs and play. I can't have you hanging to my skirts while I'm getting luncheon. Well, Katie's washing, you know. No, of course you can't go where Katie is! She's cross enough now, goodness knows! Here she comes! Now, you run right out of the kitchen. I've just come out (apologetically) to make a cup of tea, Katie. I'll have some bread and butter and tea for luncheon, and Eleanore can have bread and milk. No bread! Why, Katie! Oh yes, of course! I forgot that we had a chafing-dish supper last night. Yes, you're quite right; it takes a great deal of bread to make toast. Of course you couldn't be expected to foresee emergencies like that. Oh, well, we'll eat crackers. And I'll get some jam.

Eleanore, what are you doing? Mercy! There's the doorbell! Just noon. Must be a peddler. I can't go, and youoh no, of course I never expect you to answer the bell on wash-day, Katie. Eleanore, you go to the door, and say that I'm busy, and that I don't want anything.

What? Ladies! At this hour? Let me see, Eleanore. Mrs. James Norton Enderby! My land! I asked her to come to luncheon any day that she happened to be in town -and she's come! And it's wash-day! And Katie's perfectly savage! And there's not a slice of bread in the house! Two ladies, did you say? Oh, well, she can't intend to stay, then. I'll just leave this until she's gone.

Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Enderby? So delighted to see you! Your sister? Not your sister Florence, whom you have told me so much about? Oh, so charmed to meet you, Miss Johnson! Why, certainly, Mrs. Enderby! So nice of you to understand that I should want to meet her at once! No, I won't make a bit of fuss. Just what we should have ourselves, you know. Let me take your wraps. It's so delightful to have you drop in in this informal way! Eleanore and I are often quite lonely. Oh no, not the least in the world! That's one thing that my maids always understand from the first,-that there shall be no complaints about un

*Copyrighted by Harper & Bros.

expected guests. Oh yes, it requires a little firmness and tact in the beginning, but they can always be trained, and I simply will not be a slave to my cook!

Oh, dear! what shall I do? I've got to tell Katie! IfWell, there's no help for it! Katie! Oh, Katie! Come here a moment, please. Some ladies have just come and- Oh, I'm very sorry, Katie, but really, I can't help it!—and we've got to give them something to eat.

It's one

Well, but we must have something to eat! o'clock now! Katie! Leave me-now? Oh, you can't! You-you mustn't! I know! It was very thoughtless of Mrs. Enderby to come on Monday-stupid thing she is, anyway!—and I ought not to have given her that sort of an invitation! But, if you'll stay and serve luncheon, I'll-I'll give you that new silk petticoat of mine! It's just about. long enough for you. No, you needn't cook anything! We'll have let me see!-is there any boned chicken in the house? I mean canned chicken, you know! Well, if you'll open a can of that, I'll cream it in the chafing-dish, and No, you needn't make biscuits; I'll serve it on toasted crackers. If you'll set the table, Katie, and toast the crackers, and open the chicken, and serve the luncheon, I'll wash the dishes and give you that silk petticoat-and-yes, and a whole day off! To-morrow? Yes, the ironing can wait.

Yes, we went to hear her last night. Do you think she's as attractive in this rôle as she was in "The Prisoner of Zenda"? Oh, well, perhaps I wasn't in a very responsive mood. Oh, no, not in the least, Mrs. Enderby! Indeed, I'm going to take you at your word, and give you a picked-up luncheon-just what we should have had ourselves, you know. But on Mondays we always have luncheon rather late-in fact, we have it quite late. I hope you don't mind? Yes, I have a very satisfactory maid-as maids go. Of course, she needs a little managing, but I really think I have a way with servants. I really have. I seldom have much trouble with them, until they get perfectly unendurable, and then-I simply dismiss them, you know. Have you heard about poor Mrs. Drayton? She tried to dismiss her cook last week, and the woman drove her out of the kitchen by throwing things at her-anything within reach, you know! Poor Mrs. Drayton was so upset, she had to send for the doctor and a policeman. Now, if I had a maid who was given to throwing things about, I should- Good gracious! what's that? Excuse me a moment!

Oh, you dropped the chafing-dish, Katie? They are slippery things. I dropped one once myself. Anything broken? No, I think it's all right. Have you the crackers ready to toast? Here's the chicken-butter-cream-flour-olives -yes, I think that's all. Oh, did you fill the lamp-the alcohol-lamp under the chafing-dish? Never mind; I'll do it. And tea, jam, and little cakes for dessert. All ready, Katie? Won't you come out to luncheon, ladies?

John Graham

BY GEORGE HORACE LORIMER.

[From "Letters from a Self-made Merchant to His Son."]

'm glad, my boy, that you are getting along so well in your new place. In the future, however, you needn't tell me about it. There is never any use trying to hide the fact that you are a "jim dandy"; you're bound to be found out. A man who does big things is too busy to talk about them. When the jaws really need exercise-chew gum!

Hot air can take up a balloon a long ways, but it can't keep it there. I don't know anything that's quite so dead as a man who's fallen three or four thousand feet off the edge of a cloud.

The only way to gratify a taste for scenery is to climb a mountain. Life isn't a spurt, but a long, steady climb. You can't RUN far up hill without stopping to sit down.

The only undignified job I know of is loafing, and nothing can cheapen a man who sponges instead of hunting any sort of work. You can always bet that when a fellow's pride makes him touchy, it's because there's some mighty raw spots in it. I never see one of these fellows swelling around with their petty larceny pride, that I don't think of a little experience of mine when I was a boy. An old fellow caught me lifting a water melon from his patch one afternoon, and, instead of cuffing me and letting me go, as I had expected if I got caught, he led me home by the ear to my ma, and told her what I had been up to.