he very few Emancipated Men in America bought
redemption from the bondage of selfish ambition at a terrible price.
Years and years ago he was in the Rocky Mountains, rough, uneducated,
heedless of all that makes for righteousness. This man was caught in a
snowstorm, on the mountainside. He lost his way, became dazed with cold
and fell exhausted in the snow. When found by his companions the next
day, death had nearly claimed him. But skilful help brought him back to
life, yet the frost had killed the circulation in his feet. Both legs
were amputated just below the knees.

This changed the current of the man's life. Footraces, boxing-matches
and hunting of big game were out of the question. The man turned to
books and art and questions of science and sociology.

Thirty summers have come and gone. This gentle, sympathetic and loving
man now walks with a cane, and few know of his disability and of his
artificial feet. Speaking of his spiritual rebirth, this man of splendid
intellect said to me, with a smile, "It cost me my feet, but it was
worth the price."

I shed no maudlin tears over the misfortunes of Beethoven. He was what
he was because of what he endured. He grew strong by bearing burdens.
All things are equalized. By the Cross is the world redeemed. God be
praised, it is all good!

[Illustration: GEORGE HANDEL]

GEORGE HANDEL

When generations have been melted into tears, or raised to
religious fervor--when courses of sermons have been preached,
volumes of criticisms been written, and thousands of afflicted and
poor people supported by the oratorio of "The Messiah"--it becomes
exceedingly difficult to say anything new. Yet no notice of Handel,
however sketchy, should be written without some special tribute of
reverence to this sublime treatment of a sublime subject. Bach,
Graun, Beethoven, Spohr, Rossini and Mendelssohn have all composed
on the same theme. But no one in completeness, in range of effect,
in elevation and variety of conception, has ever approached
Handel's music upon this one subject.

--_Rev. H. R. Haweis_

GEORGE HANDEL

"Did you meet Michelangelo while you were in Rome?" asked a good Roycroft
girl of me the other day.

"No, my dear, no," I answered, and then I gulped hard to keep back some
very foolish tears. "No, I did not meet Michelangelo," I said, "I
expected to, and was always looking for him; but these eyes never