oone built his cabin there. The air
was not part of the domain of humanity till the Wright brothers made
themselves birdmen.

The things that haven't been done before,
Those are the things to try;
Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore
At the rim of the far-flung sky,
And his heart was bold and his faith was strong
As he ventured in dangers new,
And he paid no heed to the jeering throng
Or the fears of the doubting crew.

The many will follow the beaten track
With guideposts on the way,
They live and have lived for ages back
With a chart for every day.
Someone has told them it's safe to go
On the road he has traveled o'er,
And all that they ever strive to know
Are the things that were known before.

A few strike out, without map or chart,
Where never a man has been,
From the beaten paths they draw apart
To see what no man has seen.
There are deeds they hunger alone to do;
Though battered and bruised and sore,
They blaze the path for the many, who
Do nothing not done before.

The things that haven't been done before
Are the tasks worth while to-day;
Are you one of the flock that follows, or
Are you one that shall lead the way?
Are you one of the timid souls that quail
At the jeers of a doubting crew,
Or dare you, whether you win or fail,
Strike out for a goal that's new?

_Edgar A. Guest._

From "A Heap o' Livin'."

THE HAS-BEENS

I read the papers every day, and oft encounter tales which show
there's hope for every jay who in life's battle fails. I've
just been reading of a gent who joined the has-been ranks, at
fifty years without a cent, or credit at the banks. But
undismayed he buckled down, refusing to be beat, and captured
fortune and renown; he's now on Easy Street. Men say that
fellows down and out ne'er leave the rocky track, but facts
will show, beyond a doubt, that has-beens do come back. I know,
for I who write this rhyme, when forty-odd years old, was down
and out, without a dime, my whiskers full of mold. By black
disaster I was trounced until it jarred my spine; I was a
failure so pronounced I didn't need a sign. And after I had
soaked my coat, I said (at forty-three), "I'll see if I can
catch the goat that has escaped from me." I labored hard; I
strained my dome, to do my daily grind, until in triumph I came
home, my billy-goat behind. And any ma