exchange their fragrance for a sickening odor, such as comes from
garlands that have lain in vaults of cemeteries. _Lights lower!_ Mists
fill the room. Glasses rattle as though shaken by sullen thunder.
Sighs seem caught among the curtains. Scarf falls from the shoulder of
beauty,--a shroud! _Lights lower!_ Over the slippery boards, in dance
of death, glide jealousies, disappointments, lust, despair. Torn
leaves and withered garlands only half hide the ulcered feet.
The stench of smoking lamp-wicks almost quenched. Choking damps.
Chilliness. Feet still. Hands folded. Eyes shut. Voices hushed.

LIGHTS OUT!




THE MASSACRE BY NEEDLE AND SEWING-MACHINE.


Very long ago the needle was busy. It was considered honorable for
women to toil in olden time. Alexander the Great stood in his palace
showing garments made by his own mother. The finest tapestries at
Bayeux were made by the Queen of William the Conqueror. Augustus the
Emperor would not wear any garments except those that were fashioned
by some member of his royal family. So let the toiler everywhere be
respected!

The greatest blessing that could have happened to our first parents
was being turned out of Eden after they had done wrong. Adam and Eve,
in their perfect state, might have got along without work, or only
such slight employment as a perfect garden, with no weeds in it,