Bemorraif aca, LOVE TIME AND DREAM — Love time and dream time— Apple blossom blow, — Down among the daffodils, Whispers come and g0; Honey steeps in cupping flowers, Butterflies flit through the hours, And the gentle hand that dowers, Bids all giad things grow. Love time and dream time, — Cherry petals drift; Musie held in (rozes hush, Finds a voesl rift; All afield, shy, gray wings whir; Mocking-bird and tansger In love's braveries call to her, Aad bees their droning lift. Love time and dream time, Making hearts akin ; Mending broken symphonies, Where the frost has veen, Beaming like a maiden vain, — Turning into driving raio,— Peeping out, to shine again, Where the spiders spin. Love time and dream time,— ‘Tis thy guerdon, heart! Outof all this largess, thou Too hast thine own part, For thy cheer “nis music rings, Brother to the happy things, — Sister to the bee's glad wings, — Part of all, thou art ! TINE. —By Virginia Frazer Boyle, WHERE THERE IS NO TURNING In all the ride from Legovia along the beach Hazlitt mes only shree living things, three women, staring at him ont of the folds of dingy calico which shielded their faces from the glare of sun and sea. One was young and very graceful, another was not so young, a comely ex-like thing, laden with comfortable fas. The shird was old sod bens, with a hideously wrinkied, hope. | puffed less face, the mask of that impatiens death which shrivels away the women of the hot Eastern world, outside and in. For a moment they startled him. They were like toms risen to comfrot bim oo the | ed lifeless beach, for the youngest was but a memory of what the eldest had been a lis- tle time before, and the eldess only a eoy of what the youngest soon would As they stood and watched him ing by, shifting their worn fees uneasily on | '¥ the blistering sand, Hazlitt felt a mild stirring of pity as she familiar sight. *‘Hoy, friends,”’ be bailed them, ‘‘can suy one tell me she way to the plantation of Don Raymaundoe?”’ The irl looked at him shyly under lowered lide, the grandmother, squatting on her baunches, puffed as » ragged frag: ment of cigar she carried and gazed out to sea, bus the mother olutohed volubly at the chance of speech. *‘Go on till yon come to the mango which blew down in the syphoon of ten years ago,” she said, ‘‘and the road is there. is called the Trail that has no Tarning. Don Raymundo is a Castilian of the no- blest, and he is the richest baciendero in the world, Each year he loads a hun- dred ships with sugar. The plantation is called the Hacienda without a Name. Don Raymundo has a danghter whose name is Senorita Dolores. She is the most heanti- ful woman in the world. His wife is Dona Celerina.’’ For a moment a look of dislike orossed the broad, good-natured face. “Dona Ceferiun is very proud, bat, after all, she ia just a mestiza, almost a Filipiva like us. She—"' Hazlist broke into the chatter with his thanks, flipped a coin in the air,and jogged on sill be bad lefs them far behind, three moving dots on the waste, plodding the way of Malay womenlolk. Hidden in the green-shronded willer- ness of the lower hills, the Hacienda with- out a Name lay under the sunset enchanting as a loss fragment o [ some old world where labor next the scil was the happiest the great house on the hill the mistress of the thing in life. And up in the sala hacienda stared at Hazlitt over ber cup. She bad been beautiful, but uvoder the Caucasian mold of ber leatares another face nning to show dimly, the face of a race whose very beat and strength of life overtaken by the unrelenting advance of middle age. “You say my husband is a prince, Se nor?’ Dona Ceferina echoed doubsiully over her onp, and her cols forebead wrin- kled in bewilderment. This strange young visitor had puzzling notions of whas con- stitntes conversation—a diversicn of which Doua Ceferina was extremely fond, ‘With- oat doubt,’ she said, mistake.” Hazlitt looked at her in mingled amuse- mens and vexation. Io all his wonderful day of discovery this talkative, common. place woman bad teen the sole jarring note. Bas Dona Ceferina, oblivious to bis emotions, sas in the cool swilighs of the big room and poised ber cup, hybrid goddess of jostice about to render a decision. “Beyond doubt, it is a mistake,’ said Doua Ceferina. ‘‘Don Raymuaodo’s family is one of the oldest in Spain, but it has pever married with royalty. There are few princes in Spain not of the royal blood; is is not like Ruossia.’’ The word gave her a clue to a topic of live arent, and she brightened. ‘When I was a gir back at school I met a Russian prince one summer at Biarritz—'' Over his cup Don Raymundo's tiny Mephistophelian mustache lifted slightly io the mooking smile which was his ex- tremest rushed to she righting of his false lead. “Of course, I did not mean that Don Ray- isundo was a prince in name,’’ he explain- ed, ‘‘but, in fact, you know.” Celerina raised her cup and si the choe- olate r edly, bus Hazlitt did not heed ber. ‘‘The startling, the wonderful thing to an American like me is that he’s not ouly a prince in power, but a prince aut e another age. These Plastic y. e here on are his, belong $0 him personal- Take that thing we saw just vow, for instance, all those hundreds of people com- ing in to the plantation kitchen for their elaine rose to her rice it takes to feed five peo- tanta APS HAA 0-08 Is hapelessness of flesh. A part of Dona Ceferina bad been “‘f think that isa expression of emotion, and Hazlitt réanity. | i “It you only knew,” she said, ‘bow much an IE — i¥'s positively fendal, yoo koow. That's! \be holy word; it deesns belong to oar day | at all. Aud yet they tay there ie no ro left in trade. i ii school, and things,” sbe explained to Hazlitt. learned them once, hut ove forgets here. And so you think we're fendal ? I don’s know, I'm sure. Of course, there local the Philippines. No one minded her much. sat with half closed eyes and puffed at his cigareste, Seuorita Dolores turned to her window aod gazed down on her little world as it wens to sleep, and Haslitt's eyes persisted in wandering to the girlish i figure, glowing in a belated, roddy shalt of light. Decidedly, the talkative woman on the heach bad wn some disorimination in placing Senorita Dolores on the pinnacle of beauty. Suddenly he became aware that Dona Celerina’s tale was told, and that her talk bad taken a more personal torn. “It's 80 good to have one from our own world to talk to again,’ she said enthosias- tially. ‘‘One gets lonely here, with only patives about. I tremble to think what existence would have been when I came back from school, it Don Raymundo bad not been bere to rescue me.’ She smiled radiantly a8 ber black and white spouse, as if to include him in the conversation, but he only drew long at his cigarette the smoke very deliberately toward the ceiling. Hazlitt’s eyes wandered to the window once more, and Dona Celeri- pa’s followed shem. *'Isn’s Dolores beautiful ?"’ she whisper- “She's like a Madonna,” said Hazliss, balf to himeell, *‘a Madonna whom some great man dreamed of painting and gave up in despair.” “Exactly,” Dona Ceferina agreed hasti- . ‘“That’s just is. She's beautiful as the Virgin berself—and ! Poor child, after three years of and Madrid, to come hack to this !'” She swept an over- jeweled band at the greas dignified, simple room. ‘‘No wonder ehe’s lonely, poor lit- So ————— a ———" fo dear. Go and talk to her, Senor Has- ees, Haglits accepted bis permission with slacrity. Aes he a proashied, Senorita Dolores glanced timidly at him across the gull of sex which tradition and training bad fixed between her and all male shings not of ber blood, and retreated into her- sell. Her shyness was an attraction in itself, and Hazlitt did not find the silence awkward as he stood heside her and locked down on the hacienda. Iu she shaggy village clustered about the squat stoue chimney of the mill groups of girle and young men were and splashing about the wells ; from the little groves which embowered the houses the evening fires glowed red, and the light breeze carried even to thut distance a hing of the pungent wood-smoke. As Haszlitt watcbed the peaceful scene all the love of the open which had led him a wandering through lifs rolled over him in one wave. “Jove it's a mood old world after all,” he said. i The girl glanced up at him quickly. ‘After all ?'’ she echoed plaintively. **Tell me, Senor. The Sisters always smd thas ths world was ond, and we must be afraid of it. When yon speak go I wonder if youn also do not think it is had. Why isn’s it good, if we are happy io it?" Hagzlist smiled down into her pozzled eyes. Decidedly, they were matter-of-fact, oe women of the bacienda. *‘I¢ is good,” he reassured her, with the calm philosophy of his thirsy years. *‘Of course, it's good.” Sill she looked up at him, forgetting ber shyness in her interest, and a gust of pro- teotiveness and elder-brotherly affect! for this tender, budding woman-thing took bold of kim. *‘It's good,” he urged, “‘and you will always be bappy in is.” And back in the dimness Dona Celerina sipped her third oup of chocolate, while Don Raymondo smoked with ball shas eyes and smiled insorutably. Like Doreas or Abigail, or whoever she | was of old, Dona Ceferina sat among ber maidens. There were ball a dozen of them on the floor, sewing amd spinning and obat- tering in sabdued voices, while the mis- tress or the hacienda sat enthroned in the midst of them. Unlike whoever she was of old, Dona Ceferina had a oard-table be- fore her, and on the other side of the table Hazlitt sat, and the two smiled across com- panionably at each other as they corted fat bundles of sards. : ‘omii. 0 ey were playing pavguinguni. One plays panguingni with six packs of cards and much patience. Don Ceferina and Hazlitt bad played a good deal of it since they first met, six months before, and Haz- list’s patience had never wearied. Neither had Senorita Dolores’s, whioh is more sur- prising, for she bad to stand behind Haz- litt’s obair and help him with the unfamil- iar cards. She was standing there now. ““Hagzlees, it is your ,"? said Dona Caferina, gaibeting B. ber hand. It was asign of the fel ip established be- tween them that she called him Hazlitt, in BE as ar tert nes over es. was a that sbe sat with her feet tucked up in ber obhair opative fashion. ‘‘One used to is,” she explained, the first time she ven- sured it in bis presence, Dona | more comfortable.” “‘Hasleet, I shall beat you again,’ said Doge ons iyi oD a ward aq looked a — ron der, where a pair of interested eyes signaled ap- proval. Saddenly be ed a forgotten card down in Dy he oa fistful, Sen- orita Dolores gave a small wail of disma, as he played is, and Dooa Celerina smil in pleasant derision. : 1 missook is for a king,” said Hazlitt "oh mistake,” said Dona Ceferina A ‘which ooste you a media o—"" peseta. Now Hazlitt, brimming with the enthusissm | Hazlitt played and again, and lost the day bad ¢ him, swept on. |eaoh time, and enjoyed Dona Celferina’s “Think of having a jail of your own and Bittle iriumpb. She wasa’s hall bad, if she ig le in it when you 1 and | was not fig, $iis plows good-natur- tr rlaw. Why, I say 'd | ed, contented - her follow him to war if sold them to, | eternal and ber cards or novel and —and sack the next plantation. It's— | or conversation. Hazlitt smiled whimsical ee. “and it’s much | Ray ly at that lass thought. ““What are at, Hazlees ?” his a. 2 E comber, an adventurer without a country, and now, perhaps, a man whom man listle prince might envy. Fanoy ruling undisputed with Senorita Dolores the pus bis fortune to the test. The cards ran ont, and Dona Ceferina glowed trinmpbans. ‘‘Avotber game, Has- leet 2"! she asked. Hazlitt langhingly surned his pocket ont to show that the modest som allotted for the stakes of the day was exhausted, and Dona Ceferina swept up her little heap of silver. “You play worse than ever, I think,” she said. “I may learn panguingui before I die,” said Hazlist, A sudden impulse seized him. He leaned forward and fixed she mistress of she hacienda with his eye. *'I rather think, Doua Celerina,” he said, with slow emphasis, ‘‘that I #hall bave to stay ous here till I die. There seems to be no escape. Isball have to stay—aud learn so Pa panguingai. What do you shink?"’ on the heavy eyes of Dona Celeriva a small glow kindled, as of the surviving remnants of a very tiny fire. Hazlitt bad seen them light thas way when Dooa Cele- rina reached the climax of a novel. The glow deepened, and Dona Celerina looked at him understandiogly. Her baod trem- bled a little on the e. ‘‘Why not Has- leet?’ she said. *“‘Is—it would be very pleasant for all of us. I—'' she rose has- sily. “I shall have to leave you for a min- ute. I hope you and Dolores can amuse yourselves till luncheon,” she raid, with elaborate innocence and went away. Haszlist followed poor unsuspecting Dolores over to the window, and stood looking down with her, while the ball dozen maidens les needle and spindle fall and exchanged kuowing smiles. The rains had come and gone, and the tropical world was thrilling with the swifs rash of ite springtime. e black fields were mistily green with the new-set spikes of cave, the sky was fleeoy with white banks of cloud, the very air was sweet and full of life. Hazlitt drew a deep breath of it. ‘God I" he said, ‘‘theold world isa good place to live in.” Dolores glanced upat him. No one would have called her a Madonna now. The springtide bad entered into her, and she was vibrant with a life of which no monkish painter ever dreamed. ‘‘Wby do you talk like that?’ she asked. ‘Of coarse, is’s a good world.” Hazlist gazed down into the upturned eves. ‘And you are happy in it, Dolores?" he asked. . At his tone Dolores flushed rosy and tarned away, and her band gripped the edge of the broad sill with ita little help- less, useless fingers, Hazlits laid his hand over it protectingly, aod it did not draw sway. “You are bappy, Dolores?’ he re- “Of course,” said Dolores faintly. “Why shouldn's I he when everything is—so beautiful and—and good ?"’ “Happy little Dolores,” said Hazlitt. And then Don Raymundo rode round the torn in the shrubbery below, aud swung from the saddle. Dolores shrank back, bat Don Raymundo only smiled inscruta- bly. “I'll join you in a winate,’’ be called up to them. A flash of anger swept over Hazlitt at this man whose mere a took all the witohery from life. He pressed Dolores's hand before he released is. ‘‘She shall be happy,’”’ he mattered deflansly tc Don Raymundo and the world. ‘‘She shall be happy always.” “There seems to be a great deal of un- necessary sime,”” Don Raymando observed with his perveree triviality. He and Haz. litt bad run across each other in the sala alter their siesta, and were sisting with their long cbaire drawn up before a win- dow, waiting for the end of the day. “Perbaps there 1s,” Hazlitt agreed slow- ly, st for the resolution he lim ia Lb eg panionship, and per a wife— y- mondo, we Americans are blunt. I want to marry Senorita Dolores.” Don mondo smoked placidly fora moment. ‘‘I have been expecting this,” be said as last. “I bave—shall I be blant? been fearing this.” Haglist flashed. *‘I know it seems pre- samptuous,’” he said. ‘‘People will eall it olimbing for me. And yet--we have no aristooracy as home, as perbaps yon know, bus of such families as we have, mice isa one. For five generations—"' “+I care little about families,’ said Don mundo. e tone was courtenns, but she words “I am not a rich maa,” —not the wealth, bus she power and ro- mance of the life. That was what I cared but now it’s Dolores herself. boped that the company of another white man pleas- aut, that we might be friends, but—That doesn’t matter. It isn’t the hacienda I of is,” he said, ‘‘that if the burden of it could be lifted from me I should be almost happy, Link.” Any while scorn for the eternal Josiug man was setting Hazlitt's lip, be went on. friend— and I call you friend because I feel that way,’’ said Don Raymundo—*'I am going to tell you a story I never thought to tell. His momentary from him. “Go on, please,’’ said Hazlitt impatient- “It is a story of a yo man in n,’ said Don Raymundo, ‘‘a do Spain a 4 Don Ray- mundo, with a mocking lightness bitter as it well could be, “I am falling into the his en- toward the window and the world thas lay outside, the fields stretching away in the hurning light to the dim of the for: . | eat, she endless sweep of the jungle, and the distant glow of the sleeping ootamable world that Hacienda without a Name. h “Like this,"” Hazlitt assented reinotant- y. “Like this,” Don Raymundo agreed. “People say that he said that proper com- panionship. and perhaps a wile—but Dios mio, I grow stapid. His nearest neighbor who was ball a native, was—hlessed, let ns oall it—with a daoghter. A most charming young woman, so they ray, very gay, Sery cutie, very affectionate, most accomplished—ahe had spent many years on the Continent, I believe. In short, she was a heautiful and attractive young wom- an, very like—"' “Like—,!" Hazlitt began and stopped. “Like Dolores,” Don Raymundo assent- ed for him. ‘‘Aod this interesting young woman oaturally felt ill at ease among ber sea, all the aronnd the home-staying onantrymen, and naturally | bad much in common—bat I grow even more tiresome. They were married. And that,” said Don Raymundo, with languid brutality, ‘‘seems to have been the ending of the second dream.” Hazlitt felt a twinge of shame come over him at listening. After all, the law which establiehes a neutral strip of silence between men is based on something deeper than mete convention. “Don’t you think,” Hazlitt asked at last, ‘that this Hose man took himself too seriously? If be bad given more to life, had gone about amnong people—"’ “I understand,” Don Raymundo inter- rupted him, ‘‘thas hie soon declined to go out among his countrymen, where his wife wha received only as a favor to himself and his family. He was a somewhat chivalrous oung man, you see. And his Filipino riends, thongh worthy people doubtless, were somewhat unattractive aod dall to both the young man and his wife. They were jealous, too. So in the end be was restricted to the joys of home. And his wife, I understand, grew old more rapidly than he. There seemed to be something in ig blood that made her grow old guick- y- For a moment Hazlitt felt a gleam of pisy tor the lonely man beside him. Then his back stiffened. No matter what one suffers, self-pity makes him mean. ‘‘I do pos think,” said Hazlits, and for his life could not keep the vibration of scorn from his voice, ‘‘that I fear that. It isn’ Dolores’s heanty that I love. What I want is to make ker bappy. We can grow old ether.” Raymundo emiled, and for once his smile was patient instead of mooking. ““When you are older you will judge less quickly,” he said gentiy. ‘‘Aren’t you overlooking something? Is it my bappi- uess shat onunte, or yours, or even Dolore’s —though it’s hard that she should suffer for the mistake ber father made.” He drew * p in his chair and looked at Hazlitt with a new light in his eyes. ‘““What of your children ?'’ he asked, al- most sternly. ‘And their children ? Have we any right to baud our trouble down to them. The children a bundied years from sou—wil the} | he ie or mu go on forever, belonging nowhere, by ball the brothers of sheir blood, and themselves despising the other hall? Where will it end. Enlightenment burst oo Hazlitt in a flash. This was no lover's obstacle, to be surmounted by theatrical leaps and bounds. He bad come face to face with oue of the sruths of life, Nature’s unochangiog law of blood. He daw them coming, the slow generations, men of no race and country. “My God!" he said, and gripped the arms of bis chair till the cane splintered. A door at the other end of the room. ‘‘Our companions are coming,” ssid Don Raymundo quietly and rose. After the greetings Dona Ceferina went directly to the gleaming which bore the chocolate and biscuits that buoy one from the dead languor of the siesta to the toll tide of evening life. Haslitt sank back in his chair again. Suddenly a soft voioe asked over his shoulder: ‘Yom haven't to save this day week for our baile, have you? You must come, you know, because then—"" Dolores hesi- ted as ber boldness bus rattled on—*‘be- cause then I shan’ bave to dance so often with these stupid native boys.” Hazlitt gripped the arms of his chair . The moment for decision had come, and all those unborn generations were waiting his answer. Dolores was waiting, too, poor, helpless, innocent Dolores. He lovked to Don mundo for relief, bus Don Raymundo his back tarned ata window, and was smoking furiously. The pause grew long. Then slowly Haslitt | eighty straightened in his chair, and as he looked up at the wondering face behind him the law and the prophets were swept away in a gush of pitying affection. *Yes,” he said very firmly, “yes, I will come.’ ““Lalala!” Dona Ceferina laughed from ther place behind the cups. ‘‘He speaks as segiously as if he made a vow to Our Lady. It’s only a ball, you know, Hasleet. Give She itieh 4 their sotlate, Dolorcita.” She raised oup and supped happily. After all,” she said in a tone of content, ‘there are few things more delightful than one’s chocolate and cigareste.”” Don Raymusie was gazing {rom his window into the distance, where the satbaring shadows were blending cave-field forest. “Chocolate is very good,” he said thoughtlully. Three women were tramping in the glare of endless Segovia Beach. One was young and graceful, another was a ox-like thing of middle age, and the LO the end of life. They halted for a ment, and the grandmother squatted her haunches and gazed, uaseeing, over the water, i 2% next . gi v r— “Yes,” said her mother, “the you No less so authority . . Ametrapy wil Seoorita Dolores. | Piof. Frederick Star, of Chicago Uoiversi- They say he is very rich—ricber than Don | 7, is quoted as endorsing the show Raymundo. i y fot wm shuostions) At handsom "” same pays warm the vl inet oad | cot 'to the industry. The eminent edo- rest of us.” And then, baving halted a moment, they tramped vn along the beach. —By Howland Thomas, in Collier's. - mr —Do you know where 10 get the finest canned goods and dried fruits, Sechler & Co. ‘| Birds that are Sacrificed for Fashion. Ever since the first woman in the world took she tail feathers out of the bird which ber husband killed for dinuer and stuck them in ber bair and heard bis exclama- sion of ‘How lovely that makes you look, my dear,” the of earth have heen adorning their with plumes. And no matter bow tender hearted the women are, nor how much they exclaim, “0, the thing,” as the sight of the dead birds, they are ready to follow the fashion. They are sorry for the slaugbter- ed birds, but they must have plames for passed by Parliaments and Legislatures, Audubon societies have framed resolutions, but still the birds are being killed. Qaeen Alexandra of Eog- land is the latest great personage to protest against the slaughter of birds. The mil- liners and society women of Eogland are excited over the position she has taken, bat it isn’s at all likely that they will follow her sugge