those little girls. But she saw, and was so glad to see, that this lady was very wise, and that she understood all the things that little girls wonder about.

But though there was a difference, a very great difference, between Mamas and Ladies it was very hard to tell-unless you asked.

One day a large fat lady took Bessie Bell on her lap. That was very strange to Bessie Bell-to sit on top of anybody.

And the lady made a rabbit, and a pony, and a preacher, all out of a handkerchief and her nice fat fingers. And then she made with the same handkerchief and fingers a Mama holding a Baby.

Then Bessie Bell looked up at her with her wondering eyes and asked: “Are you a Lady—”

"Bless my soul!" cried the lady. "Do you hear this child? And now, come to think of it, I don't know whether I am a lady or not—”

And the lady laughed until Bessie Bell felt quite shaken up. "Or are you a Mama?" asked Bessie Bell, when it seemed that the lady was about to stop laughing.

"So that is it?" asked the lady, and she seemed about to begin laughing again.

"Yes, I am a Mama, and I have three little girls about as funny as you are."

Another time a lady passed by the cabin where Bessie Bell stood leaning against the little fluted white post of the gallery, and said:

"Good morning, Bessie Bell. I am Alice's Mama."

That made things so simple, thought Bessie Bell. This lady was a Mama. And she was Alice's Mama.

Bessie Bell wished that all would tell in that nice way at once whether they were Mamas or Just-Ladies.

The next lady who passed by the cabin also stopped to talk to Bessie Bell.

And Bessie Bell asked: "Are you a Mama or Only-Just-ALady?"

"I am only just a lady," the lady said, patting Bessie Bell's little tiny hand. And it was easy to see that, in Bessie Bell's mind, though Only-Just-Ladies were kind and sweet, Mamas were far greater and more important beings.

One night, when Sister Helen Vincula had put Bessie Bell to bed in the small bed that was not a crib-bed, though like that she had slept in before she had come to the high mountain, Bessie Bell still lay wide awake.

Her blue eyes were wide open and both of her pink little hands were above her head on the pillow. She was thinking, and thinking, and she forgot that she was thinking her thinking aloud, and she said:

"Alice has a Mama. Robbie has a Mama. Katie has a mama. Where is Bessie Bell's mama? Never mind: Bessie Bell will find a mama."

Then Sister Helen Vincula, who was wide awake, too, said:

"Ah me, ah me."

Bessie Bell said: "Sister Helen Vincula, did you call me?"
Sister Helen Vincula said: "No, child: go to sleep."

LIFE

Strong, leonine, laid out along the sand,

The Sphinx, with face perfect as Nilus flower,

Subtile lips, fresh as rosebuds in a shower;

Yet her years more than man's knowledge hath spanned-
Ancient, alluring, love-inspiring, grand—

Charming men ever with mysterious power,
Uttering wondrous riddles hour by hour,

In simple wisdom tangling all the land:

So Life lies stretched along the sands of time.
Eyes old as wisdom in her blossom face-
Each man's adored one e'en till he must die-
And, lo, she asks in mellow, mystic rhyme
Enigmas of the passing human race—

Fretting us with her riddles: Whence? How? Why?

POESY

It is a subtile breath that blows through verse,
A thing too fine and delicate to name,
As faint as are the dreams that dawns disperse-

Yet this the buoyant breath that blows to fame.

ALABAMA DAISIES

Fresh Alabama daisies, blue and bright,
With heaven's hue upon their petals set,
Gold of the sun and blue of sky well met-
These shall for me be symbol of life-light
With all the wealth of heaven, yet bedight

With earth's virescent livery, warm, dew-wet, Caught close to earth by fresh green grasses' net— Blue eyes upturned to the loftiest height.

So Life be bright, though in secluded ways,

As this small circlet, full as circled morn: So, too, my life, look ever up and on, Lifting unadunted eyes to heaven's rays,

Nor failing all the while earth to adorn― A gracious, unmarred memory when gone.

THE RED-WINGED BLACK-BIRD

Gay little whistler in the tree,
Blowing a bugle: "Tu-ru-lee-"
Wearing epaulets rosy red,
Dapper cap on his saucy head:

He was a soldier once-My word!
Gay little bugler, brisk Black-Bird;
His wars are over, and peace is so sweet
Still at evening he blows: Retreat!

AN EASTER DAWN

Like some vast cosmic egg, a Day
Breaks on the crystal rim of Time:

A golden ball it does display

Wrapped in a morn as white as rime.

A WINTER DAWN

Two hours space the battle raged-
The hosts of Day and Dark engaged-
Till blanched the forces of the Night
Before the Morning's spears of light.

LIGHTS AND SHADES OF PLANTATION LOVE

MAKING

From 'Kodak at the Quarters.' Copyright, and used here by permission of the author. THE PROPOSAL

A very shy fellow was dusky Sam,

As slow of speech as the typical clam.

He couldn't make love to his Angeline

Though his love grew like the Great Gourd Vine

So he brought the telephone to his aid To assist in wooing the chosen maid: "Miss Angeline? Dat you?" called he. "Yas. Dis Angeline-Dis me—”

"I-des wanter say-dat I does-love youMiss Angeline-does you love me, too—?” "Why-yas-Of course I loves my beauSay. What's de reason you wants to know?" "Miss-hold de wire-Will you marry me? True-?" "Yas. Course I will

Say. Who is you?"

THE STRANGENESS OF IT

After de war it seemed to Uncle Dan

Dat keepin' a boardin' house was a good plan.
He went to Mobile and he opened one dar,
And de niggers flocked to it from nigh and far.
One day ole Dan come in from de city,
And de sight he seed it sho' was a pity-

His daughter Lu, on de porch he found her,

Settin' wid a boarder's arm around her!
Ole Dan he 'sclaim: "What you doin', Lu?
Gal, I puffec' shamed er you!

You tell dat nigger now to his face

For to take his arm from around yo' waist—” "Tell him yo'se'f," say Lu; "dat nigger he

Is des a puffec' stranger to me!"

THE MARRIAGE LICENSE

You got back, Massa, from de town-
You fotch my ma'y'age license down?

Dat license reads for Sal and me?
Dat's a pity, Massa, 'caze you see

Since you been gone I change my min'
And conclude I'll marry Adeline—

Des you take dem license and change de name
And lemme marry on dem all de same.

You can't do dat? Cost me two dollars mo'?

Oh, no, sah! Massa, no, sah-No

Des leave de name dat's writ dar Sal's

'Caze dar ain't two dollars' diffunce 'twixt dem gals!

DE QUALITY

At Christmas my ole Mistis she

Give th'ee dinners, don't you see!
She hand de invites out to me

And I totes 'em round on de nag, Barbee.
To de fust us axes de Quality,

Dem wid blue blood and ancestree,
To de nex' us bid de Bob-Quality-
Dem what ain't, but 'ud like to be!
To de last us call de Commonality-
Plain folks 'dout no trimmin's dee.
Can't talk 'bout what used to be,
Ain't got nothin' but raw money.
But, oh, la! now sence niggers is free,
De rail on top is de Commonality,
De nex' in line is de Bob-Quality-
And de fine ole Quality-Whar is dee?