As the music broke into a new strain the girl leaned suddenly forward in her chair and her face showed a new interest. Then her eyes dropped and she seemed to be in a deep study. It was “The Message of the Violet” now, and as the lovers on the stage began the song the audience was hushed into silence. Over the footlights came the strains, mellow, vibrant, charging the very air with the smell of violets and of spring. The girl saw instead of the picture on the stage a vision of a summer night, a quiet corner on the old veranda. The music floated toward them while the dancers swept over the floor and he was repeating to her the story of his love. She had listened half in joy, half in fright, and tears had mingled with smiles before a bevy of laughing girls had called them back to the dance. The song ended and a great burst of applause awoke the girl from her reverie. Her eyes turned instinctively toward the audience and far back in the shadow she saw him, his eyes half covered with his hand. Over her swept a new feeling, a sudden resolve. She fingered the violets on her lap as the song rose once more into the chorus: “I love you, love you, love you, And my heart’s true blue.” The young man felt a tap on his shoulder. A boyish usher was dropping a tiny bunch of violets into his hand. “From the young lady in the third box,” he said. WHOSE TEMPLE YE ARE. BY ISABELLA HOWE FISK. In the quarry of its earthly life, Works the soul. Though it suffer toil and strife, Thy control Canst hew out the rough material For a master-builder’s plan; And the soul shall rise ethereal From the structure of the man. In beneath the granite arches Swings the spirit’s censer fair, And amid the ritual arches Incense rises through the air. [Illustration] Lyrical and Satirical CONDUCTED BY VERMOUTH. WHAT’S THE USE? (A Rhyme of Spring Fever) There’s so much to do and there’s so little time,— What’s the use? There’s so much that’s prosy and so little rhyme,— What’s the use? The fishing is fine and you can’t get away, And you have to sleep night time instead of by day, And when you feel gloomy you’ve got to be gay.— What’s the use?