The central figure is that of a man who has been taken by a band of Indians; four or five of his captors are about him, and you see the relentless faces lit with the grim joy of capture. Around the man’s neck a noose hangs loosely; about him he sees only the inexorable faces, the wide stretches of the plains, the silences in which there is no help. The man looks past the plains into the ghastly future that is just ahead. The picture is called “Missing.” In this country hardly a day goes by but in it is enacted a tragedy worse than that of Remington’s picture; and it’s called by the same name. Take up a paper almost any day in New York and you read of the disappearance of a girl of fourteen or fifteen or sixteen, or of the suicide of a girl who has been caught in the horrible undertow from which, as far as society is concerned, there is no return. Within the last year, on the various routes between New York and Chicago, no less than nine hundred and sixty girls have disappeared. * * * * * THE UNDER DOGS HORATIO WINSLOW in the _Coming Nation_ If I had not heard the bitter cry, If I had not seen the bleeding feet— I think I should echo the salving lie That toil is jolly and chains are sweet. If I had not walked the bedless night, If I had not lived the mealless day— I think I should censure the appetite Of thieves that pilfer and fools that slay. If I had not heard and seen and felt And wept for lack of a pathway out— Most like I should pat an expansive belt And say nice things of the Russian knout. * * * * * A woman of philanthropic tendencies was paying a visit to a lower East Side school. She was particularly interested in a group of poor pupils and asked permission to question them. “Children, which is the greatest of all virtues?” No one answered. “Now, think a little. What is it I am doing when I give up time and pleasure to come and talk with you for your own good?” A grimy hand went up in the rear of the room. “Please, ma’am, youse are buttin’ in.”—_The Delineator._ * * * * * The _Ladies Home Journal_ believes that, no less than factory and commercial worker, the oldest of home workers—the “domestic”—should be protected by standardization of wages, hours and living conditions. An editorial in the March issue says: