Oh! many a stair our feet must press, And climb from self to selflessness, Before we reach that radiant room Above the discord and the gloom. So many, many stairs to climb, But mount them gently—take your time; Rise leisurely, nor strive to run— Not so the mightiest feats are done. Well doing of the little things: Repression of the word that stings; The tempest of the mind made still By victory of the God-like will. The hated task performed in love— All these are stairs that wind above The things that trouble and annoy, Up to the Tower-room of joy. Rise leisurely; the stairs once trod Reveal the mountain peaks of God; And from its upper room the soul Sees all, in one united whole. FATHER He never made a fortune, or a noise In the world where men are seeking after fame; But he had a healthy brood of girls and boys Who loved the very ground on which he trod. They thought him just a little short of God; Oh you should have heard the way they said his name— ‘Father.’ There seemed to be a loving little prayer In their voices, even when they called him ‘Dad.’ Though the man was never heard of anywhere, As a hero, yet you somehow understood He was doing well his part and making good; And you knew it, by the way his children had Of saying ‘Father.’ He gave them neither eminence nor wealth, But he gave them blood untainted with a vice, And the opulence of undiluted health. He was honest, and unpurchable and kind; He was clean in heart, and body, and in mind. So he made them heirs to riches without price— This father. He never preached or scolded; and the rod— Well, he used it as a turning pole in play. But he showed the tender sympathy of God To his children in their troubles, and their joys. He was always chum and comrade with his boys, And his daughters—oh, you ought to hear them say ‘Father.’ Now I think of all achievements ’tis the least To perpetuate the species; it is done By the insect and the serpent, and the beast. But the man who keeps his body, and his thought, _Worth_ bestowing on an offspring love-begot, Then the highest earthly glory he has won, When in pride a grown-up daughter or a son Says ‘That’s Father.’ THE NEW HAWAIIAN GIRL EXPLANATORY KAMEHAMEHA FIRST, of the Hawaiian Islands, conquered his foes in a great battle, driving them over the high mountain peak known as Pali—one of the famous scenic views of the world, and the goal of all visitors in Honolulu. The Hula (pronounced _hoola_) was the national muscle and abdominal dance of Hawaii, and the late King Kalakua was its enthusiastic patron. The costume of the dancers was composed chiefly of skirts of grass. The Hula (so attired) is now forbidden by law. The Hula Kui is a modification of the dance and exceedingly graceful.