ered been;
But the stout old ivy shall never fade
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant in its lonely days
Shall fatten upon the past:
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the ivy's food at last.
Creeping on where time has been,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.

THE CHURCH PORCH.

[Arthur Pendennis made his entry into literature by writing these verses
for Mr. Bacon's "Spring Annual." The Hon. Percy Popjoy, a regular
contributor to that fashionable publication, had sent in a poem which Mr.
Bacon's reader condemned as too execrable to inflict upon the public. To
take its place, at George Warrington's suggestion, Pendennis was invited
to turn off a copy of verses to accompany an engraving which showed a
damsel entering a church porch, with a young man watching her from a
near-by niche. The poem printed below was the result.]

Although I enter not,
Yet round about the spot
Ofttimes I hover:
And near the sacred gate
With longing eyes I wait,
Expectant of her.

The minster bell tolls out
Above the city's rout
And noise and humming:
They've stopped the chiming bell;
I hear the organ's swell:
She's coming, she's coming!

My lady comes at last,
Timid, and stepping fast,
And hastening hither,
With modest eyes downcast;
She comes--she's here--she's past--
May heaven go with her!

Kneel undisturbed, fair saint!
Pour out your praise or plaint
Meekly and duly;
I will not enter there,
To sully your pure prayer
With thoughts unruly.

But suffer me to pace
Round the forbidden place,
Lingering a minute,
Like outcast spirits who wait
And see through heaven's gate
Angels within it.

World-Famous Bachelors.

At a Time When Contemporary Writers Are Pointing Out the Men Who
"Have Been Made By Their Wives," a List of a Few Men Who
"Made Themselves" May Prove Worth While.

_Compiled and edited for_ THE SCRAP BOOK.

"He travels the fastest who travels alone," sings Kipling. In other words,
the bachelor has the advantage in the race for fame and fortune. The truth
or falsity of this viewpoint depends upon the road which a person travels;
it also depends upon his harness mate--who very often helps him along much
faster than he could go by himself. Even were it