rubbed their tired horses. The lantern threw a dim red light on the harness and on the rumps of the cattle, but left mysterious shadows in the corners. I could hear the mice rustling in the straw of the roof, and from the farther end of the dimly-lighted shed came the regular strim-stram of the streams of milk falling into the bottom of a tin pail as the hired hand milked the big roan cow.

Oh, those blessed days, those entrancing nights! How fine they were then, and how mellow they are now, for the slow-paced years have dropped nearly fifty other golden mists upon that far-off valley.

THE POWER PLANT

BY BERTON BRALEY

Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!

The mighty dynamos hum and purr,

And the blue flames crackle and glow and burn
Where the brushes touch and magnets turn!
Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!

This is no shrine of the Things That Were,

But the tingling altar of live To-day,

Where the modern priests of the "Juice" hold sway;
Where the lights are born and the lightnings made
To serve the needs of the world of trade.

Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!

The white lights banish the murky blur,
And over the city, far and near,
The spell extends that was conjured here,
While down in the wheel-pits, far below,
The water whirls in a ceaseless flow-
Foaming and boiling, wild and white,
In a passionate race of tireless might,

Rushing ever the turbines through,

And making the dream, the Dream come true!

Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!

The dynamos croon and hum and purr,

And over the city's myriad ways,

The jeweled lights all burst ablaze,

And the peak-load comes on the burdened wires

As the fold rush home to their food and fires!

From Songs of a Workaday World, by Berton Braley. Copyright, 1915, George H. Doran, Publisher.

PITTSBURGH

Way down below the level road on which I stood, way on the opposite side of the river, Pittsburgh lies, a dark, low mass, hemmed in by its rivers, lorded by its hills; in the hollow the smoke hangs so dense often I could not see the city at all, but once in a while a breeze falls on the town, and the great white skyscrapers come forth from the thick, black cloud, and the effect is glorious-the glorification of work, for Pittsburgh is the work-city of the world.