Look at the roses saluting each other;
Look at the herds all in peace on the plain,
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother
And laughs in his heart at his perils and pain,
Shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain.

It is worth while that we battle to humble
Some poor fellow down into the dust?
God pity us all! Time too soon will tumble
All of us together, likes leaves in the gust,
Humbled, indeed, down into the dust.

A woman was speaking who was dressed in soft white which clung to her
slight form, and gave one the idea of a statue; a Galatea without a
soul.

Fatalism had wound its slimy folds about her and she was unable to free
herself from its chilling embrace. There is an old German legend which
runs thus, "Vineta was an old fortified place by the sea and the capital
of an ancient nation. Her dominion extended over the neighboring coasts
and over the waves where she ruled supreme. Unparallelled in splendor
and greatness, countless treasures flowed in to her from other lands,
but pride presumption and the sins of her inhabitants brought down the
chastisement of Heaven upon her and she sank, swallowed up by the
waves." The sailors still affirm that the fortress of Vineta lies
uninjured at the bottom of the sea. They say that deep down in the
water, they catch a glimpse of towers and cupolas, hear the bells ring,
and at enchanted hours, the whole fairy city rises out of the depths and
shows itself to a favored few. The old legend tells us that the one who