When the fitting time arrives, perhaps the Russian Government
will avail itself of just this argument, among others--the welfare of
friends in distant America. There has never been a propitious time in
Russia to make that calendar reform since the reign of Peter the Great
until now. And America may fairly be said to have brought from its dark
hiding place the mustard seed which has been trying so long to
germinate, and imparted to it a vivifying impulse.
THE MOTHER'S SONG.
By CECILIA REYNOLDS ROBERTSON.
Hush, oh, my baby, your father's a soldier,
He's off to the war, and we've nothing to eat.
And the glory is neither for you nor for me,
With the cockleburr crushing the wheat.
Little boy baby, look well on your mother;
Some day you may ask why she bore you at all;
For the trenches are foul with the blood and the wallow,
And the bayonet is sharp for your fall.
Rest, rosy limbs, and blue eyes and gold lashes--
Made in the mold of the Saviour, they say!
Drink deep of my bosom, my starved, meagre bosom,
That--keeps you alive for the fray.
Sleep, oh, my man child, and smile in your sleeping,
But the gun has been fashioned to lay in your hand,
And your life blood flows smooth in your fair little body
The better to water and plenish the land!
Pan-American Relations As Affected by the War
Consequences of the European Conflict on Future Commerce Between the
United States and Latin America
By Huntington Wilson,
_Formerly Assistant Secretary of State_.
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