UKA:-Treat every one with friendliness-injure no one. Natasha:-How good you are, grandfather! How is it that you are so good? Luka:-I am good, you say. Nyah-if it is true, all right. But you see, my girlthere must be some one to be good. We must have pity on mankind. Christ, remember, had pity for us all and so taught us. Have pity when there is still time, believe me, that is right. I was once for example, employed as a watchman, at a country place which belonged to an engineer, not far from the city of Tomsk, in Siberia. The house stood in the middle of the forest, an out-of-the-way location; and it was winter and I was all alone in the country house. It was beautiful there -magnificent! And once-I heard them scrambling up! Natasha:-Thieves? Luka: Yes. They crept higher, and I took my rifle and went outside. I looked up-two men, opening a window, and so busy that they did not see anything of me at all. I cried to them: Hey, there, get out of that! And would you think it, they fell on me with a hand ax! I warned them. Halt, I cried, or else I fire! Then I aimed first at one and then at the other. They fell on their knees saying, Pardon us! I was pretty hot-on account of the hand ax, you remember. You devils, I cried, I told you to clear out and you did n't! And now, I said, one of you go into the brush and get a switch. It was done. And now, I commanded, one of you stretch out on the ground, and the other thrash him. And so they whipped each other at my command. And when they had each had a sound beating, they said to me: Grandfather, said they, for the sake of Christ give us a piece of bread. We have n't a bite in our bodies. They, my daughter, were the thieves who had fallen upon me with the hand ax. Yes, they were a pair of splendid fellows. I said to them, If you had asked for bread! Then they answered: We had gotten past that. We had asked and asked, and nobody would give us anything. Endurance was worn out. Nyahand so they remained with me the whole winter. One of them, Stephen by name, liked to take the rifle and go into the woods. And the other, Jakoff, was constantly ill, always coughing. The three of us watched the place, and when spring came, they said, Farewell, grandfather, and went away-to Russia. Natasha:-Were they convicts, escaping? Luka:-They were fugitives-they had left their colony. A pair of splendid fellows. If I had not had pity on themwho knows what would have happened? They might have killed me? Then they would be taken to court again-put in prison, sent back to Siberia-why all that? You can learn nothing good in prison, nor in Siberia. But a man, what can he not learn!-Maxim Gorky. WO contrary laws stand today opposed: one a law of blood and death, which, inventing daily new means of combat, obliges the nations to be ever prepared for battle; the other a law of peace, of labor, of salvation, which strives to deliver man from the scourges which assail him. One looks only for violent conquest; the other for the relief of suffering humanity. The one would sacrifice hundreds of thousands of lives to the ambition of a single individual; the other places a single human life above all victories. The law of which we are the instruments essays even in the midst of carnage to heal the wounds caused by the law of war.-Louis Pasteur, at the opening of Pasteur Institute. H, God, here in my dressing I am glad I know the great spirit that stands silently by, here, as in every place where a human heart is beating! Can not an actor be God's man? Can not I, whose business it is to play, be as conscientious as those in authority or peril or solemn function? Convention classes me and my fellows among the loose and thoughtless. So Thou art my secret. I triumph inwardly to find Thy presence and taste the mystic joy of Thy friendship, while the world suspects not. Thou washest my heart clean as the Priest's. Thou givest me a holy ambition to do my work well, that I also may be a devout craftsman Thou teachest me What is this mystery My friend before me lies; in all save He seems the same as yesterday. His So like to life, so calm, bears not a trace I gaze on him and say: He is not dead, Me by the hand. I know he will awake Was warp and woof of which his life He is not dead. Such souls forever live give. "Mystery," by Jerome B. Bell subtle ways to resist despair, to master my passions, to heal unworthy weakness; the rare medicine of Thy presence is for me, too, as well as for the cloistered monk or meditating scholar. Teach me to be great among the many who are content to be called great. (Reveal to me the satisfaction of virtue, the inner rewards of loyalty, helpfulness, and self-control. Let me be an unusual person because of that simplicity of heart and that lovableness of nature that I learn from Thee. May I also touch the infinite and share the divine current that thrills all high souls. Save me from the bogs of pettiness, from egotism, self-pity, envy, and all the corrosives that mar life. I do not serve in the temple; mine is no solemn office nor critical station; but I thank Thee that the river of God flows HAT is the law of nature? Is it to know that my security and that of my family, all my amusements and pleasures, are purchased at the expense of misery, deprivation, and suffering to thousands of human beings-by the terror of the gallows; by the misfortune of thousands stifling within prisonwalls; by the fears inspired by millions of soldiers and guardians of civilization, torn from HE place to take the true measure of a man is not in the darkest place or in the amen corner, nor the cornfield, but by his own fireside. There he lays aside his mask and you may learn whether he is an imp or an angel, cur or king, hero or humbug. I care not what the world says of him: whether it crowns him boss or pelts him with bad eggs. I care not a copper what his reputation or religion may be: if his babies dread his homecoming and his better half swallows her heart every time she has to ask him for a five-dollar bill, he is a fraud of the first water, even though he prays king than fear to the face of a child."A Man's Real Measure," by W. C. Brann. HE present position which we, the educated and well-to-do classes, occupy, is that of the Old Man of the Sea, riding on the poor man's back; only, unlike the Old Man of the Sea, we are List to that bird! His song-what poet pens it? Brigand of birds, he's stolen every note! Prince though of thieves-hark! very sorry for the poor man, very sorry; and we will do almost anything for the poor man's relief. We will not only supply him with food sufficient to keep him on his legs, but we will teach and instruct him and point out to him the beauties of the landscape; we will discourse sweet music to him and give him abundance of good advice. Yes, we will do almost anything for the poor man, anything but get off his back. Leo Tolstoy. how the rascal spends it! Pours the whole forest from one tiny throat! "The Mockingbird," by Ednah Proctor (Clarke) Hayes night and morning until he is black in the face and howls hallelujah until he shakes the eternal hills. But if his children rush to the front door to meet him and love's sunshine illuminates the face of his wife every time she hears his footfall, you can take it for granted that he is pure, for his home is a heaven-and the humbug never gets that near the great white throne of God. He may be a rank atheist and red-flag anarchist, a Mormon and a mugwump; he may buy votes in blocks of five, and bet on the elections; he may deal 'em from the bottom of the deck and drink beer until he can't tell a silver dollar from a circular saw, and still be an infinitely better man than the cowardly little humbug who is all suavity in society but who makes home a hell, who vents upon the helpless heads of his wife and children an ill nature he would inflict on his fellow men but dares not. I can forgive much in that fellow mortal who would rather make men swear than women weep; who would rather have the hate of the whole world than the contempt of his wife; who would rather call anger to the eyes of a HE millionaire is a new kind duced-rolled up on us by DUCATION does not mean teach ing people what they do not know. It means teaching them to behave as they do not behave. It is not teaching the youth the shapes of letters and the tricks of numbers, and then leaving them to turn their arithmetic to roguery, and their literature to lust. It means, on the contrary, training them into the perfect exercise and kingly continence of their bodies and souls. It is a painful, continual and difficult work to be done by kindness, by watching, by warning, by precept, and by praise, but above all-by examples the sheer development and fruitfulness, When a bit of sunshine hits ye, When a fit of laughter gits ye And ye'r spine is feelin' proud, Don't forget to up and fling it "The Boomerang," by Capt. Jack Crawford picking out the men who had them, and gathering them around them, that the success has been kept. Many of them are rich by some mighty, silent, sudden service they have done to a whole planet at once. They have not had time to lose their souls. There is a sense in which they might be called The Innocents of Riches-some of them. -Gerald Stanley Lee. EN are tattooed with their special beliefs like so many South Sea Islanders; but a real human heart with divine love in it beats with the same glow under all the patterns of all earth's thousand tribes.-O. W. Holmes. XCEPT a living man there is nothing more wonderful than a book! a message to us from the deadfrom human souls we never saw, who lived, perhaps thousands of miles away. And yet these, in those little sheets of paper, speak to us, arouse us, terrify us, teach us, comfort us, open their hearts to us as brothers. -Charles Kingsley. "Perhaps there's some of you never thought much about strikes till now. Well. There's been strikes all the time. I don't believe there's ever been a year when there was n't dozens here in New York. When we began, the skirt-finishers was out. They lost their strike. They went hungry just the way we did, but nobody helped them. And they're worse now than ever. There ain't no difference between one strike and another. Perhaps they are striking for more pay or recognition or closed shops. But the next strike 'll be just like ours. It 'll be people fighting so they won't be so much slaves like they was before. "The Chairman said perhaps I'd tell you about my experience. There ain't nothing to tell except everybody has been awful kind to me. It's fine to have people so kind to me. But I'd rather if they 'd try to understand what this strike business means to all of us workers -this strike we've won and the ones that are coming.... "I come out of the workhouse today, and they tell me a lady wants to give me money to study, she wants to have me go to college like I was a rich girl. It 's very kind. I want to study. I ain't been to school none since I was fifteen. I guess I can't even talk English very good. I 'd like to go to college. And I used to see pictures in the papers of beautiful rich women, and of course it would be fine to have clothes like that. But being in a strike, seeing all the people suffer, seeing all the cruelty-it makes things look different "The Chairman told you something out of the Christian Bible. Well, we Jews have got a story too-perhaps it 's in your Bible-about Moses and his people in Egypt. He'd been brought up by a rich Egyptian lady-a princess-just like he was her son. But as long as he tried to be an Egyptian he was n't no good. And God spoke to him one day out of a bush on fire. I don't remember just the words of the story, but God said: 'Moses, you 're a Jew. You ain't got no business with the Egyptians. Take off those fine clothes and go back to your own people and help them escape from bondage.' Well. Of course, I ain't like Moses, and God has never talked to me. But it seems to me sort of as if-during this strike-I'd seen a Blazing Bush. Anyhow I've seen my people in bondage. And I don't want to go to college and be a lady. I guess the kind princess could n't understand why Moses wanted to be a poor Jew instead of a rich Egyptian. But if you can understand, if you can understand why I'm going to stay with my own people, you 'll understand all I 've been trying to say "We're a people in bondage. There 's lots of people who 's kind to us. I guess the princess wasn't the only Egyptian lady that was kind to the Jews. But kindness ain't what people want who are in bondage. Kindness won't never make us free. And God don't send any more prophets nowadays. We 've got to escape all by ourselves. And when you read in the papers that there's a strike-it don't matter whether it's street-car conductors or lace-makers, whether it 's Eyetalians or Polacks or Jews orAmericans, whether it's here or in Chicago-it's my Peoplethe People in Bondage who are starting out for the Promised Land." She stopped a moment, and a strange look came over her face-a look of communication with some distant spirit. When she spoke again, her words were unintelligible to most of the audience. Some of the Jewish vest-makers understood. And the Rev. Dunham Denning, who was a famous scholar, understood. But even those who did not were held spellbound by the swinging sonorous cadence. She stopped abruptly. "It 's Hebrew," she explained. "It's what my father taught me when I was |