Part 19 (2/2)
BY ELENE FOSTER
The traures round; rows of faces, keen and alert, with that look in the eyes that one sees in LePage's Jeanne d'Arc; the click, click of bullets froe blended with a chorus of deep voices near at hand singing ”Over There”; a clear, blue sky, crisp autu waters of Lake Cha
(5)
(_Good Housekeeping_)
NEW ENGLAND MILL SLAVES
BY MARY ALDEN HOPKINS
In the pale light of an early winter , while a flat, whitefaint scudding shadows across the snoo little girls, cloaked, shawled, hooded out of all recognition, plodded heavily along a Ver dinner pail
The road was lonely Once they passed a farht in a cha barked in the faint distance
Where the road ascended thewhite-li snow The littler girl, half dozing along the accustomed way, slipped and slid into puddles
At the top of the mountain the two children shrank back into their mufflers, before the sweep of the wet, chill wind; but the ht--beyond the slope of bleak pastures outlined with stone walls--sunk deep in the valley beside a rapidwith points of light Toward this the two little o on squashy feet
They were spinners One was fifteen She had worked three years
The other was fourteen She had worked two years The terse record of the National Child Labor Committee lies before et up at four fifteen AM and after breakfast start for thethere in time not to be late, at six Their home is two and one-half miles from the mill Each earns three dollars a week--So they cannot afford to ride The road is rough, and it is over the mountains”
(6)
(_Providence Journal_)
HOW TO SING THE NATIONAL SONGS
To Interpret the Text Successfully the Singer Must Memorize, Visualize, Rhythmize, and Emphasize
BY JOHN G ARCHER
The weary eye of the toast rows of tables as he says with a sorry-but-it-led Banner'”; the orchestra starts, the diners reach frantically for theirto his es into the unknoith a resolute determination to be in on the death of the sad rite
So the dizzy altitudes, others persevere through uncharted shoals, all make some kind of a noisy noise, and lo, it is accomplished; and intense relief sits enthroned on every dewy brow
In the crowded church, the minister announces the ”Battle Hyanist, arging the congregation resistingly along at a hurdy gurdy pace till all se is irretrievably lost
Happy are they when the refrain, ”Glory, Glory, Hallelujah,”
provides a temporary respite from the shredded syllables and scraht, as it were, and catch up with hianist