Again, a movement for any one of the reforms which are now pressing to the fore would appeal with irresistible force to its advocates if they knew that success at the polls would incorporate its provisions in the organic law of the land. Those who believe that the best interests of the nation will be conserved by more just systems of taxation, by direct legislation, by the control or ownership of the means of transportation and other measures in line with the logic of events, would know that they were not fighting in vain if a victory with the ballot meant a legislative victory. I hold that the “Open Door” offers not only the one way to popular triumph, but that success by it is certain and not difficult of attainment. Our national structure totters because of an antique and crumbling foundation. Rebuild it! _To One Departed_ Sitting, apart in the café, under a glare of light, Surrounded by wealth and beauty, I ponder here tonight. ’Tis down in old New Orleans and the Carnival is in sway, There are music, jest and laughter—the revelry of the gay. While sitting here alone, dear, midst all this merry throng, The band begins to play, dear, our old, best loved song; They call it, dear, “Love’s Old Sweet Song,” and oh, it brings to me A longing deep to lay me down and rest, sweetheart, by thee. I listen to the music and hear the chattering throng, There steals o’er me a wondrous spell, again I hear the song _As sung by you_, in the long ago, whose sweetness was so brief, And now, alone, I sit here with your memory and my grief. I have wandered over many lands in search of something true, And now I know, my darling, I found it but in you. I’ve searched afar for sweet content, and sought in vain for rest, I know I ne’er could find it, dear, save on thy faithful breast. Amidst this scene of life and mirth it is for you I crave, I seem to stand a thousand miles away, beside your grave, And see the stars that o’er it, there, a gentle vigil keep, And kiss the flowers that wave o’er you, my sweetheart, in your sleep. So, sitting here, surrounded thus by joy and beauty rare With much to bring me happiness, and much to banish care, I know that now and evermore, I’ll always love you best, And learn to lie beside you, dear, to sleep—to sleep and rest. My eyes grow dim with longing; my heart grows numb with pain; I feel that you are waiting, dear, to clasp me once again. My soul pines for the journey’s end, when I, too, shall be free, And I’ll lie down to sleep, love, in the last long sleep, near thee. BERNARD P. BOGY. _According to Garfield_ STELLA—Would you marry a poor man? BELLA—Yes, I would marry a beef magnate who only made two per cent. _Pole Baker_