destiny she, Melissa, would have to contend and struggle!

The clear, even tones of the Judge recalled Melissa to her surroundings. "Marriage is a partnership," he ruled, "and never ownership. The parties to true marriage shall share their joys and griefs. They shall labor and work for their mutual benefit and common interest. There should be no mine or thine, but only ours. A woman's work should be lessened as much as the man's. A child needs the solicitation and care of both parents; but he had better lose the influence of one than to be reared in an atmosphere of dissention. As these two people cannot agree or live in harmony, I grant an interlocutory decree of divorce and award the child to the mother's care, so long as she can convince this court of her ability to support and educate him. But I

She

Melissa waited to hear no more. She stumbled blindly from the courtroom, the hysterical sob of the freed nother lingering in her ears. must find Asa and tell him; make him see that marriage is a partnership. She must save him from sinking into the lethargy which wrapped the man of the courtroom. him understand that the joy of life is daily living; that buckets are necessary, that trimmings are as essential to happiness and success as harrows and tractors. She hurried through the hall and ran into Asa coming up the steps.

Make

"Is the Judge through?" he asked. "I don't know," answered the awakened Melissa, "but it won't make no difference to you and me whether he is or not, if you ain't bought two buckets and some saucers.'

Asa standing on a lower step stared up at her uncomprehendingly. "What ails you?" he demanded. "Are

you sick, cause you ain't had no dinner, or have you gone crazy, Meliss'?"

"No I ain't crazy," answered the girl, transformed into an assertive woman. "And you'd best call me by my real name after this too. 'Marriage is partnership'" she cried, launching into the phraseology of the Judge "and not ownership. You can't buy me like you would a plowhorse. We gotta work together and share together. I gotta have more'n one bucket. "Twould be wasted time for me to tote one bucket at a time clear from the barn, where you keep the water wagon, up to the house. The Judge said a woman's work should be took care of, same as a man's. We gotta share our success and failures. I ain't a goin' to live like my mother, and your mother, and all the other women of our valley. Just existin', that's all. Makin' out with most nothing, year in and year out. Did you buy two buckets, Asa?" she demanded, rising to the fullness of her stature and looking down at him fearlessly. "Cause we ain't a goin' to get married at all if you didn't,” she finished with a new born ob

that poor woman in there, afightin' for her boy. She'd plowed and done all kinds of work on their farm for ten years hauled water and done things like a man, same as I'm willin' to do. But her husband wouldn't buy her even a wash boiler. Said she didn't need it, just as you said this morning, Asa. He ain't all to blame. He don't think. He can't see that them things is necessary toothinks she could get along without 'em somehow, if she wanted to. And he don't care if there ain't things in the house. He just don't think that trimmings is necessary. I won't be her!" cried Melissa with vigorous determination. I'll meet you half way, Asa, a long half way. But license or no license, there won't be no weddin', if I can't have two buckets. to tote at once, and saucers to teacups!"

Asa merely stood and looked at her speechless. His last appeal had failed. He did not know how to handle this new sort of woman. Melissa the docile, the easily wooed, had been commonplace, uninteresting. But with true primitive instinct she became desirable to him the moment she became unobtainable. The age old trait of fight for his mate rose in him. Asa awoke. He was a man, alive, pulsing, vibrant. Before him stood the desired woman, superb, strong, young, and alluring in her righteous indignation. Strange he had never noticed her attractiveness before! The shapliness of her arm, the fullness of her bosom, the sparkle of her eye, the strength of her soul, rather than the strength of her body. What a helpmate she could be and he, Asa, had stumbled blindly along appraising her, as she had accused him of doing, like a plowhorse or a range cow.

Having issued her ultimatum Me

lissa towered above Asa, calmly awaiting his decision. Only her heaving bosom betrayed her inward agitation. She had staked her all, before their lives were molded, before readjustments were impossible, in order to make Asa understand. Asa shoved his hands deep into his pockets while his face became a brown study. His own mother had lived in privation, uncomplaining, and to all appearances, unresenting her lot. Asa had never known how much the little things of life meant to a woman. He wanted his harrow, but above all else he wanted Melissa. He had to have her! The very thought of returning alone to his homestead stirred him as he had never been moved before.

a

Across the square Melissa could see the resting horses, the running gears, boasting a new bright green wagon bed. In the wagon was double disc harrow, the afternoon sunshine playing upon the concave discs. People began to come out of the courtroom. The faded, yet triumphant woman, radiating a new life. interest hurried away, clutching the hand of the child who was hers, and hers alone.

Asa tried to speak. His lips. twitched, he blinked his eyes and swallowed hard. Forth from his pockets he drew a roll of bills and passed it to Melissa. Within his lethargic soul something snappeda hitherto dormant emotion became powerful and dominant.

"Take these Melissa," he said half proudly, half humbly, "and go down to Hunter's hardware store and get the things you're hankerin' after. I got one bucket and a dishpan out in the wagon, but the cups I got is the kind what don't break-granite, they call 'em. Get you some with saucers and rosebuds if you want 'em. And

if you want to go in next door, you can buy some curtain stuff and table cloths. Go ahead, get what you want-I

guess we can stand the price of a few trimmings. I'll go back to the store a bit, too. Don't know as that there harrow is just what I'm a lookin' for anyway. Maybe I'll wait another season 'fore I buy one. Meet me here in an hour, and we'll start home soon as we've had dinner and been married."

Late that night Mr. and Mrs. Sea. gers' weary team plodded homeward. Round the slippery, winding dug. way, and through the seemingly bottomless flats the little procession moved slowly along. From the rear of the wagon bed, as it lurched in and out of chuckholes, came a tinkle. which was as music to the ears of Melissa. The purple shadows had turned into impenetrable night, and twinkling ranch lights answered the beckon of the evening star before they came to Asa's homestead. The horses were exhausted, but Mr. and Mrs. Seagers knew no fatigue. The green wagon bed held unhoped for, undreamed of treasures. From the rear end protruded shiny lengths of new galvanized pipe. They would drive a well! There was water on the dry farm, if you only drilled far enough. Asa would pipe it to the house; there would be need for only one bucket then.

There was but one drawback to Melissa's complete happiness-the disc harrow was not there. Asa had returned it to the store, but its loss represented the emancipation of all

the other toil bound women of the valley. They would learn, and one by one rise in self defense to claim their birthright of partnership in matrimony.

Asa reined in his horses by his cabin door. He climbed briskly down and lifted his wife bodily from her elevated seat. As he did so, he hugged her awkwardly and aimed a maiden kiss at her mouth. "I'm glad we used that license," he said as he unlocked the door. "Stand still a minute, till I strike a match. There we are" he added, swinging the door wide for his wife to enter. "I'll bed the horses and then help you to unpack."

"I'm glad we're married, too, Asa," whispered Melissa, once more passive and diffident. "Ma give my bed to Tillie this morning, and pushed all the others up in the bed row. I don't know where I'd a slept tonight. They didn't expect me to come back home."

Asa squeezed her once more and kissed her again, this time with more success. "You're worth a disc harrow," he whispered awkwardly.

Outside a coyote howled dismally; the silent valley echoed his lament. A forlorn cow bellowed for her calf; a foolish chicken, prey to a skulking coyote, squawked his last earthly protest. But the children of toil paid no heed. Though toilers still, they had found the soothing balm, the healing salve of privation and labor. For romance had awakened bringing in its wake happiness, understanding, contentment, and Love.

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In a recent issue of a prominent American magazine, a somewhat noted English novelist, writing of her impressions gained from a sojourn in the United States, makes a very severe arraignment of the average American girl. The article is illustrated with a reproduction of the famous painting by Rochgrosse, "The Fall of Babylon," in which woman's shamelessness is strikingly portrayed as the chief forerunner of the fall of that great civilization. The legend under the illustration is a quotation from Isaiah, 15:22; "For I will rise up against them, saith the Lord of hosts, and cut off from Babylon the name, and remnant, and son, and nephew, saith the Lord." Also this forceful paragraph from the body of the article itself: "Has the American girl no innate modesty-no subconscious self-respect, no reserve, no dignity? I know what I think of them."

In various places throughout the article occur such scatching denunciations as, "Amusements to kill time, not to give recreation, are the goal of each day. Drugs have to be resorted to, to produce new sensations. Superfluous energy has to be got rid of, in a wasteful way." “Has chastity the same value it used to possess? Is the doing of unpleasant duty as frequent? Is reverence for religion as high? Is respect for parents as profound? Is unselfishness as common? Is the meaning of a bargain as well understood?" "What man in his heart cares for a much-fingered peach? What man respects a girl who gives her caresses lightly to one after another? When

you buy a cheap garment you hack it about, knowing you can throw it away. So with the modern unthink ing marriage. There is always divorce to be resorted to."

Whether or not the comment on the girls of America is too severe, a profound and fundamental truth underlies the article, and it will surely prove beneficial to call attention to it again. It is that no great cataclysm like the one referred to has occurred in the history of any nation that has not been preceded, and to a great extent caused, by a decadence in morals a softening of the moral fibre-which has lessened the power of resistance to destructive forces working from within or from without. Wealth, population, political prestige may make a nation great and powerful, but these alone can never make it endure. It is always when a nation has reached its greatest height in these regards that thoughtful men and women look for signs of decadence. Unless reinforced by a strong and uncompromising morality, the very bigness embodied in wealth, population, and political power may hasten decay and ruin.

It has often occurred to the writer that the clever stanza,

"Be good, my dear, and let who will be clever,

Do noble things, not dream them, all day long,

And so make life, death, and the great Forever,

One grand, sweet song,"

can be quoted to advantage as a guide to nations as well as to individuals. We are prone to boast of our great intelligence, our advancement in civ