“Why should I sit here and waste my time dictating letters about matters that don’t concern me to people that don’t interest me. When a letter really requires an answer I write a few lines in pencil on the letter itself and send it back to the writer. Here’s my letter file,” pointing to a capacious waste-basket, “and a very good one it makes. I never could understand why people should feel obliged to answer letters. All sorts of people write me about their affairs—not mine! Why should I spend my time writing people about their own affairs? Of course, helping people who deserve it is quite another matter. “One quality that has always helped me immensely is my faculty—absolutely—to wipe the past from my mind. I look only to the future. I work only for the future. I drag no dead weights after me. But, no man knows why he does things. He can’t help expressing what is in him. The genius or talent or aptitude or whatever you call it, that is born in him is bound to come out no matter what his outward circumstances. The people who never discover their bent have none to discover. If you are a reporter and you don’t like the way your fountain pen works you make it work better. You invent another pen; and then, before you know it, you find yourself a pen manufacturer.” With twinkling eyes and one of his contagious, boyish laughs Mr. Hammerstein got up from his desk and said, “Now I must excuse myself to attend one of those Directors’ meetings I was telling you about.”—Lyman Beecher Stowe. A MAGIC MOMENT. (By Lilian Whiting.) I love you, love you! only this I have to say; All other visions, hopes and dreams Must go their way. Your lightest word outweighs for me The universe beside; My thought responds to all your own As ocean’s tide Unfailingly leaps up to meet The moon’s sure call; Or as the stars in evening skies Must shine for all. Life is no longer drift and dream, But vivified; And all its radiance, all its faiths, Are multiplied. Music and magic lay their spell Upon the days That dawn in rose and wane in gold And purple haze. O wondrous spirit-call that came From out the air To make all life forevermore Divinely fair. —Harper’s Bazaar. KEEP POPULIST CHICKS AT HOME.