instant, to look out. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life; and if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. I happened this morning to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours. Can any of you there above give me the exact number?

The Minute Hand (counting quickly and quietly on its fingers). Sixty times sixty, times twenty-four. Eighty-six thousand four hundred times.

(Aloud)

Well, I

The Pendulum (triumphantly). Exactly so. appeal to you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to fatigue one; and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I'll stop.

The Dial (laughing behind the hands, then sobering rapidly). Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this sudden suggestion. It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your time; so have we all, and are likely to do, which, although it may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. Will you now give about half a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?

The Pendulum. With pleasure! (Ticks six times.)

The Dial. Now, may I be allowed to inquire if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you?

The Pendulum. Not in the least. It is not of the six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions.

The Dial. Very good. But recollect that though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required

to execute but one; and that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in.

The Pendulum. That idea staggers me, I confess.

The Dial (looking triumphantly at all present). Then I hope that we shall all immediately return to our duty, for the servants will lie in bed as long as we stand idling thus, and the master will soon be down for breakfast.

The Weights (to the Pendulum). Better swing! You are bested in the argument.

The Pendulum. All right! Altogether, ready, here we go. Tick, tock! Tick, tock!

The Dial (a sunbeam striking its happy face). Just in time! Here he comes!

The Old Farmer (placing his hat on a chair, looks at the clock, then suddenly takes out his watch). Bless me! What can the matter be? My watch has gained half an hour in the night.

- Dramatized from Jane Taylor.

CHIVALRY THROUGH THE AGES

JOHN L. ALEXANDER

A little over fifteen hundred years ago the great order of knighthood and chivalry was founded. The reason for this was the feeling on the part of the best men of that day that it was the duty of the stronger to help the weak. These were the days when might was right, and the man with the strongest arm did as he pleased, often oppressing the poor and riding roughshod over the feelings and affections of others. In revolt against this, there sprang up all over Europe a noble and useful order of men who called themselves knights. Among these great-hearted men were Arthur, Gareth, Launcelot, Bedivere, and Alfred the Great. The desire of these men was "To live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the king."

Of course in these days there also lived men who called themselves knights, but who had none of the desire for service that inspired Arthur and the others. These false knights, who cared for no one but themselves and their own pleasure, often brought great sorrow to the common people. Chivalry, then, was a revolt against their brutal acts and ignorance, and a protest against the continuation of the idea that might was right.

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Nowhere in all the stories that have come down to us have the acts of chivalry been so well told as in the tales of the Round Table. Here it was that King Arthur gathered about him men like Sir Bors, Sir Perceval, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Galahad. These men, moved by the desire of giving themselves in service, cleared the forests of wild animals, suppressed the robber barons, punished the outlaws, bullies,

and thieves of their day, and enforced wherever they went a proper respect for women. It was for this great service that they trained themselves, passing through the degrees of page, squire, and knight with all the hard work that each of these meant, in order that they might the better do their duty to their God and country.

Of course this struggle of right against wrong was not confined to the days in which chivalry was born. The founding of the order of knighthood was merely the beginning of the age-long struggle to make right the ruling thought of life. Long after knighthood had passed away the struggle continued. In the birth of the modern nations, England, Germany, France, and others, there was the distinct feeling on the part of the best men of these nations that might should and must give way to right, and that tyranny must yield to the spirit of freedom. The great struggle of the English barons under King John, and the wresting from the king of the Magna Charta, which became the basis of English liberty, was merely another development of the idea for which chivalry stood. The protest of the French Revolution, and the terrible doings of the common people in these days, although wicked and brutal in method, were symptoms of the same revolt against oppression.

When the Pilgrim Fathers founded the American colonies, the work of Arthur and Alfred and the other great men of ancient days was renewed and extended and fitted to the new conditions and times. With the English settlements of Raleigh and Captain John Smith we might almost say that a new race of men was born and a new kind of knight was developed. All over America an idea made itself felt that in the eyes of the law every man should be considered just as good as every other man, and that every man ought to

have a fair and square chance at all the good things that were to be had in a land of plenty. It was this spirit that compelled the colonists to seek their independence and that found its way into our Declaration of Independence, as follows:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

The fight of the colonists was the old-time fight of the knights against the oppression and injustice and the might that dared to call itself right.

No set of men, however, showed this spirit of chivalry more than our pioneers beyond the Alleghenies. In their work and service they paralleled very closely the knights of the Round Table, but whereas Arthur's knights were dressed in suits of armor, the American pioneers were dressed in buckskin. They did, however, the very same things which ancient chivalry had done, clearing the forests of wild animals, suppressing the outlaws and bullies and thieves of their day, and enforcing a proper respect for women. Like the old knights they often were compelled to do their work amid scenes of great bloodshed, although they loved to live in peace.

These American knights and pioneers were generally termed backwoodsmen and scouts, and were men of distinguished appearance, of athletic build, of high moral character, and frequently of firm religious convictions.

Such men as "Appleseed John," Daniel Boone, George Rogers Clark, Simon Kenton and John James Audubon are the types of men these pioneers were. They were noted for their staunch qualities of character. They hated dishonesty