of the radical capitalist press. There were no more strikes,--that was
the main thing. The public was happy.

At least, they were happy until the next problem came along to be
solved.

Still Reading Away?

[Illustration]

Still reading away at your paper?
Still sitting at editors' feet?
(Clay feet!)
Oh, why do you muse on their views of the news,
When breezes are sweet in the street?
There's a bit of cloud flying by in the sky.
Tomorrow 'twill be far away.
There's a slip of a girl, see her dance to my song!
Tomorrow she'll be old and gray.
Come along!
There's music and sunshine and life in the street,
But ah, you must take them today.

Portraits

A Wild Polish Hero and the Reverend Lyman Abbott

The books a man likes best are those with somebody in them like him. I
don't say it isn't a pleasure to read about others, but if he too is
there it's still better. And when he is the hero--ah! It's like living a
whole extra life.

[Illustration: Ah! when _I_ am the hero!]

But there is no drawing back, once you put yourself into some
character--you must do all that he does, no matter how you hate his
mistakes. I remember once identifying myself with a dissolute Pole, in a
novel, who led me a dance that I haven't forgotten yet. I ought never to
have let myself fancy that I was that fellow. He was moody, excitable,
he drank more brandy than I was prepared to; he talked most
bombastically. He made the most pitiful jokes. But what took my eye in
him was this: he was sincere with himself. He was only twenty-five years
of age, but though young, he was honest. When he was in love with two
women he never dodged facing it squarely. He deceived the two women, I
grant you, but most heroes deceive themselves, too. They tell themselves
some pretty story in dilemmas like that. This Pole always saw through
_his_ stories. He questioned his heart, and listened with reasonable
honesty to its responses.

[Illustration: He deceived the two women]

Our capacity for analyzing and criticizing our natures is wonderful.
When a man is without self-awareness, I feel toward him as
I do toward animals.

I admire the animals. I am glad I am not one myself--life in the wilds
must be awful--but animals are healthy and sound; and some are good, and
intelligent. Men who can't analyze themselves may be good and
intelligent also. But they a