their meeting and school houses, where the drama might be made a part of the social life. The Salt Lake Theatre was built in 1862, and after this date, the Social Hall housed at times the Training School of the Normal Department of the University of Deseret; it was a centre for lectures and various kinds of entertainment, and the main departments of the L. D. S. High School were once housed by this famous old building. Five years ago, the University of Utah acquired it for the use of the department of Dramatics, and under the leadership of Professor Maud May Babcock, it was again fitted up for a theatre, and here for three seasons, the best dramatic talent produced the best plays of the stage of today, and the "Little Theatre" as it was called, again exerted an influence

for the preservation of the Drama and Literature.

THE GARDO HOUSE

One of the beautiful old homes of Salt Lake City has been the Gardo House. It has recently been torn down to make way for a new building. While not one of the older houses of Salt Lake City, it endeared itself to all lovers of art, and for years, it was looked upon as a noted land mark showing the strong feeling for the beautiful which always inspired Brigham Young in his recommendations for the building up of the City.

The corner on which the Gardo House stood belonged originally to Colonel A. P. Rockwood, where he lived for many years. He sold the corner to President Brigham Young, and it was subsequently occupied by

the veteran barber John Squires. His shop became the centre for interesting men, who went to be barbered, and not only did the noted men of the pioneer community sit in the old arm chair while their beards were trimmed or their hair cut, but after the opening of the Salt Lake Theatre in 1862, the actors who came over the plains by stage coach to fill engagements made their way to the shop to be "cleaned up and to have their hair and beards made proper for the stage." Here sat Irwin and Pauncefort, and here came the beautiful Julia Deane Hayne to have John Squires massage her hair and prepare it for the "opening night." John Squires moved his shop to Main Street, in the later sixties, and the Rockwood house was occupied by Mrs. Hardie, known as Grandma Hardie. Here lived James Hardie, the actor, and his sisters Phyllis and Gracie. Here Judge Le Grand Young wooed Miss Grace. Phyllis became the wife of Stephen Lynch. In 1875, President Brigham Young determined to build an official residence, and he picked out the site of the Rockwood home for the purpose. He chose Joseph Ridges to draw the plans for the building, and to superintend its construction.

Ever since the organization of Utah Territory, Brigham Young was visited by noted men on their way to

California, and he felt the need of "an official residence where strangers and distinguished guests could be entertained." President Young died in 1877; the Gardo House was not finished. On his death President John Taylor took charge of the official residence, and in 1880, it was ready for occupancy. The cost of the building has been variously estimated from $30,000 to $50,000. It was the official residence of President John Taylor until his death when it was vacant again. President Woodruff continued to live at his home just south of the City, and the Gardo House was rented to Colonel Isaac Trumbo and later to Mr. A. W. McCune. Mrs. McCune repainted the interior and the furnishings of the rooms were of the latest and most beautiful type. President Snow sold the house to Colonel Holmes for $46,000, and it was occupied by him and Mrs. Holmes for many years.

Various opinions have been given as to the architectural beauties of the house. One thing is certain, it was well constructed, the windows and doors were graceful and the lines of the house pleasing. For

That more than "kind words" "can never die" is proved by the constantly occurring revivals of certain old things of various nature that are obviously destined to be immortal. A fashion, a fad, an oil or a water color, a dance, a religious belief, a song. "Love's old Sweet "Love's old Sweet Song," for instance, has been resurrected for many an event. Community singing has had a good effect in many ways. "Home Sweet Home" is coming again into its own. Perhaps that little song will have a great deal to do in switching back our

unstable, money-craving, apartment seeking, easy-lived generation into a more steadfast nation of home-loving patriots. It is a consummation devoutly to be wished.

But when we hear the song do we ever think of the author, or know more than his name (scarcely that)John Howard Payne. He was born June 9, 1791, in New York, but received his early schooling in Boston. His father was a schoolmaster living on Long Island, where he married, afterwards moving to where his profession had more encourage

ment.

John Howard was a very advanced child and an exceedingly beautiful one to look at. Beauty usually finds more friends than true worth. However John seems to have been possessed of both and his way was always made easy. In his school days Master Betty, a famous boy-actor was the rage, and John, passing through the period of "stage. "stagestruckness" that fires every youth, determined to be a second Master

Betty. His brightness and good looks made the dream easily realized. He was praised greatly by critics and the box office receipts were unusually high for that day. His initial performance was at the Park Theatre, New York. He made the circuit of surrounding towns, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and finally (in three or four years) went to England where he secured a season at Drury Lane. But too much praise had spoiled him. He forgot that "boy-actors" grow up and that with the coming of years people expect more of art than they look for in their curiosity in a protegy. He did not work and his day soon passed. But he had become intensely interested in plays and playwriting. It is said that the plays he wrote himself, translated, or adapted can be counted with the sixties. Out of this large amount of work we know him today solely as the author of one little song! In money it brought Payne its just (?) portion of a batch of plays that were all sold together for a lump In the batch was his opera "Clari, the Maid of Milan" which contained his song, "Home Sweet Home." A hundred thousand copies of this song were circulated before a year of its popularity had passed, bringing to the publisher thousands of pounds! Such is genius! Poor Payne! Bread and butter, no jam is so often the lot of the deserving. Rockefeller is Rockefeller. Joh Howard Payne is merely the composer of the widest known, bestloved song ever written.

sum.

A shower of ringing "Good nights" lingered on the air, and Linda stood alone at last by the white picket gate of her own front yard. Two huge automobiles loaded with that night's graduating class shot forward like two long streaks in the moonlight, trailing snatches from class and school songs.

Linda Carew stood like a shimmering little moon moth, reluctant to go in and end the enchanted day. It had been too perfect, too dear. Finally she started slowly up the walk, seeming to drift on the crest of a dream, so aimless and happy was she. Now and then her eyes followed the silhouette at her side on the grass. It was a shadow of her own gorgeous little self in her ruffles upon ruffles of crisp organdie and lace. She stood still, watching the shadow stop. She stretched out her slim bare arms and tilted her head, following the effect with the admiring curiosity she would bestow on a picture or a lovely tree. Then she moved whimsically into the house.

In her little cretonne-hung room she slipped out of the sheer graduation gown, hanging it reverently away, then sank onto the moonbathed window box and fell again into a reverie. Her bud-like face with its crowning mass of black curls, was lifted to the silver-white light in a sort of exaltation.

Linda was seventeen, but the new light in her gray eyes, the new womanliness of her small pink lips, and the recent pinning up of the short black curls showed she was certainly growing up. This very night

she had received her first proposal and was transported by the romance of the thought of many, many like it.

At the reception that night in the town auditorium, Donald McKendrick had come-Don, the dearest chum, the best companion, the finest boy-and the tenderest lover any girl ever had-and had asked her to marry him.

Now deep down in her thrilled heart Linda felt that Don was the man, the only man under heaven whom she could marry. But she was so young, and there were long roads of unexplored romance she wanted first. She wanted to live and laugh and triumph as beautiful women in stories had lived and as she felt she could live, and conquer the world. There had never been one yet impervious to her half conscious charm. Not a boy in the class but gloried to merely sit by her in chapel. Now there would be new ones men, and they would adore her, and take her to every imaginable entertainment, and they would shower her with flowers and at last they would ask her to marry them; while she, tingling with the always new wonder of it, would whisper,

"No. I have always cared for you dearly, but somewhere, I know there is a prince on his way to find me. I shall recognize him instantly, and you are not the one."

However, this was not the speech she should give to Donald. For he was, in her heart of hearts, the prince incarnate.

"Why. Don," she faltered, a tiny tremor playing with her voice, "we're so absurdly young. Why I