"'I haven't time to tell you all,' ses the grasshopper. 'But to commence with, I can travel all over the world an' have the use of trains, steamers, sailing ships and automobiles and will never be asked to pay a cent, an' I can live on dry land all me life if I choose, while you can't live under water, or over water, on land or on sea, and while all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't catch me if they were trying till the crack of doom, you could be caught be a few poor, harmless sailors, who wouldn't know a crow from a cormorant, and who'd sell your carcass to make oil for foolish wives to burn an' write letters to other people's husbands an' fill the world with trouble.' An' what about all the whalebone we supplies for ladies' corsets an' paper knives, and what about all the stories we make for the novelists an' the moving pictures an'--'" "We're at the Sprig of Holly now," said Felix. "Is it a pint of porter or a bottle you'll have?" "I'll have a pint, I think," said Standish. IN BERLIN[15] BY MARY BOYLE O'REILLY From _The Boston Daily Advertiser_ [15] Copyright, 1915, by The Boston Daily Advertiser. The train crawling out of Berlin was filled with women and children, hardly an able-bodied man. In one compartment a gray-haired Landsturm soldier sat beside an elderly woman who seemed weak and ill. Above the click-clack of the car wheels passengers could hear her counting: "One, two, three," evidently absorbed in her own thoughts. Sometimes she repeated the words at short intervals. Two girls tittered, thoughtlessly exchanging vapid remarks about such extraordinary behavior. An elderly man scowled reproval. Silence fell. "One, two, three," repeated the obviously unconscious woman. Again the girls giggled stupidly. The gray Landsturm leaned forward. "Fräulein," he said gravely, "you will perhaps cease laughing when I tell you that this poor lady is my wife. We have just lost our three sons in battle. Before leaving for the front myself I must take their mother to an insane asylum." It became terribly quiet in the carriage. THE WAITING YEARS[16] BY KATHARINE METCALF ROOF From _The Century Magazine_ [16] Copyright 1915, by The Century Co. Copyright, 1916, by Katharine Metcalf Roof.