They had been planning a gigantic municipal subway to run the length of Long Island, to handle the new population which is coming steadily from the tropics. But the subway plans were yesterday defeated. New York, they claim, will not grow so large. The new radio power-sending stations will make every farm a small factory if need be. The age of steam flung us into roaring infernos of cities; the age of electricity will send us back into God's green country. They say that is happening now. And I have read in newspaper editorials--and heard, just this evening in the Government radio broadcast--that we would do well, by ourselves, and most of all by our children, if we heeded the lesson from Xenephrene. I have been just now in Zetta's bedroom, standing in the dimness gazing down into the cradle where our little son lies sleeping. Xenephrene brought tragedy upon our world--a lesson for good, perhaps; but to me it brought a great happiness. I see Zetta lying there, like a little child herself, so early asleep to-night. She gave up everything for me. I mentioned it to her once, soon after we were married. She smiled her quaint smile and held me close. "Back in Garla, Peter, your father used to read from his Bible. A ver' wonderful book--for the Garlands, for all, it is all the same. There was a place in the Bible, I memorize' it. You say, Peter, for you I have given up my worl'. And I answer, like Ruth: "'_Whither thou goest, I will go; thy people shall be my people_--'" I sit here to-night finishing these pages. A great thankfulness is upon me. Out of the horror of the past, I have come to-night with a dear father still holding his health and strength; a loving sister, happily married to a man I respect and admire. I have a bachelor friend, joyous with his chosen lot. I have a beautiful, adoring wife, to realize every romantic dream of my boyhood, to mother our lusty little son growing up to personify all the good which is within us both. I am very singularly blessed. THE END