The law of Suffrage should be: Crime not sex shall dis- 

 franchise; a free ballot for every honest, intelligent citizen. 



Here are some fragments of a poem that tell the story of an 

 Oriental monarch, absolute in power, but wretched in his loneli- 

 ness, who sent for his youthful bride. Of her coming, her song, 

 and its lesson the verse will tell us : 



As comes the moon from out the sea with her attendant breeze, 

 As sweeps the morning up the hills and blossoms in the trees. 

 So Xourmahal to Selim came ; then fell upon her knees ! 



The envious jewels looked at her with chill, barbaric stare, 

 The cloth of gold she knelt upon grew kistreless and bare, 

 And all the place was cooler in the darkness of her hair. 



And while she knelt in queenly pride and beauty strange and wild. 

 And held her breast with both her palms and looked on him and smiled,. 

 She seemed no more of common earth, but Casyapa's child. 



He bent to her as thus she smiled ; he kissed her lifted cheek ; 



" Oh, Xourmahal," he murmured low, " more dear than I can speak, 



I'm wear}' of my lonely life ; give me the rest I seek." 



She rose and paced the silken floor, as if in mad caprice. 

 Then paused, and from the Empress changed to improvisatrice. 

 And wove this song — a golden chain — that led him into peace : 



" Lovely children of the light, "Eapture passed, they raised their eyes,. 



Draped in radiant locks and pinions— But were startled into clamor 



Red and purple, blue and white Of a marvelous surprise ! 



In their beautiful dominions Was it color? Was it glamor? 



On the earth and in the spheres. Purple tinted, sweet and warm, 



Dwell the little glendoveers. Was each wing and folded form : 



"And the red can know no change, "Who had wrought it — how it came — 

 And the blue are blue forever, These were what the twain disputed. 



And the yellow wings may range How were mingled smoke and flame 

 Toward the white or purple never. Into royal hue transmuted ? 



But they mingle free from strife. Each was right and each was wrong, 



For their color is their life. But their quarrel was not long. 



" In the days long gone, alas ! " For the moment that their speech 

 Two upon a cloud, low-seated, Differed o'er their little story, 



Saw their pinions in the glass Swiftly faded off from each 

 Of a silvery lake repeated. Every trace of purple glory. 



One was blue and one was red, Blue was bluer than before, 



And the lovely pair were wed. And the red was red once more. 



" ' Purple wings are very fine,' " Then they knew that both were wrong,. 



Spoke the voice of Euby, gently ; And in sympathy of sorrow 



'Ay,' said Sapphire, 'they're divine 1 ' Learned that each was only strong 



Looking at his blue intently. In the power to lend and borrow. 



' But to wish for a change is vain,' That the purple never grew 



Ruby said : ' We'll not complain.' But by grace of red to blue. 



"And for twice a thousand years, 



Floating through the radiant ether, 

 Lived the happy glendoveers, 



Of the other jealous, neither. 

 Sapphire naught without the red. 

 Ruby still by blue bested." 

 13 



