e house,
and Cleeve, lighting a cigarette, lounged down to the drive toward the
laughing groups of returning frolickers.

A PRESENT-DAY CREED

What matters down here in the darkness?
'Tis only the rat that squeals,
Crushed down under the iron hoof.
'Tis only the fool that feels.

'Tis only the child that weeps and sorrows
For the death of a love or a rose;
While grim in its grinding, soulless mask,
Iron, the iron world goes.

God is an artist, mind is the all,
Only the art survives.
Just for a curve, a tint, a fancy,
Millions on millions of lives!

If this be your creed, O late-world poet,
Pass, with your puerile pose;
For I am the fool, the child that suffers,
That weeps and sleeps with the rose.

W. WILFRED CAMPBELL.

BETWEEN THE LINES

By M. H. VORSE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE--MISS PAYSLEY, _twenty-one, small, with a dignified
carriage, when she remembers it, otherwise she is as impulsive as a
little girl. She is pale, blond, blushes easily and has a way of
looking at one with a straight, honest, gaze._

MR. JARVIS, _thirty, tall, well built. Has an easy-going, tolerant
manner that is sometimes almost indifferent._

SCENE--_A lamplit piazza. The subdued light throws curious shadows on
the thick growth of vines which screen the place from the street. Here
and there where the vines are broken one may look out into the velvety
blackness of the night. The piazza is furnished in the usual way.
Rugs, wicker chairs, wicker tables. On the table a carafe with liquor
and glasses. Litter of books, smoking things, etc._

_Enter_ MISS PAYSLEY _and_ MR. JARVIS.

MISS PAYSLEY (_pulling aside the vines_)--What a sense of space
darkness gives one! I feel as if I were looking into eternity!

MR. JARVIS (_aside_)---That sounds like Millicent. (_Aloud._) Aren't
you going to keep your promise?

MISS PAYSLEY--Don't you feel the greatness of space around you in a
night like this?

Mr. Jarvis (_reproachfully_)--And I thought you were a woman of your
word. I didn't bring you out here to look into limitless space. I
brought you out here to look into my hand.

MISS PAYSLEY (_bringing her eyes to his, as if with effort, and
blushing_)--You know I warned you! I'm awfully in earnest, and
sometimes I say--well, things.

MR. JARVIS--I want the truth, you know. (_Shakes up the pillow in the
hammock._)

MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--He b