The Birmingham age-herald., 1910-10-03
With yisors Down

TT was at the day nursery on the
 state fair grounds.
 \ There were babies galore, besides the kiddies of two, three and four years The little ones were left with the nurses-.for a small fee-to be taken care of while the mothers saw the fair.
 As a matter of fact. the day nursery was itself one of the best of the shows Especially attractive were the young folk, who were able to play about in the yard adjoipng the cradle depart ment. There were sand piles and toys and low swung hamnlocks and, best oi all, grass for toddling feet and tumb- ling bodies.
 The happy little ones at play attracted much attention.
 I noted particularly the men specta tors. Among them were all sorts and conditions-well dressed men, i'll dressed old and young, business men farmers, horsemen, hostlers, roustabouts
 On every face was the same expression smiling kindlness or tender apprecia- tion
 Of course there were many women onlookers. They gazed on the babies as all women folk look on them-the look of maternal and instinctive fondness which comes into every woman's face when she sees baby or little child. And the women were profuse in their ejaculations: "Oh, isn't she cutei
 What handsome little boy!" etc. The men said nothing
 The hereditary tendency of masculinity to repress the emotions held them in silence.
 But the expression was there--a look of tenderness for something sweet and innocent
 AS I studied the faces of those men higher appreciation of my sex came -s to me In the heart of every mother .son of them was a tender spot and the helpless guileless, winsome youngsters touched that spot and brought out in them what was noblest and best. It was pictured on their faces so that he who ran might read
 2 Had you intinated as much to one of them he would have said doubtless: "Oh. nonsense! I just stopped to look at the kids
 But the look was there.
 And l wish l might have a photo- graph of those mems faces with the visors of their helmets down./
 Dickens was right. There is door to every heart Tt may be lip a winding stair, but knock and 1t will open.
 Which. He was the worst boy in school.
 Not naturally depraved. not purposely
  and could no harm help his fidgety ways than he could help the color of his eyes, which were honestly blue and mschiev- ous.
 He was frail because of lack of nour- ishmefit In his short life he had gone days with just enough to eat to keep him from starving. In his dismal home 4 short dinners were the rule rather than the exception.
 The boy was also i'll clad. He wore no underclothing, and winter was com ing on Patched knee trousers, thin stockings with holes in them, a ragged shirt and a worn out jacket constituted all his clothing.
 After repeated warnings the teacher had caught him in a fragrant violation of the rules The little rebel was de- liant His code of battle was that Of the street Arab-to give or take punish rnent and abide the issue.
 The teacher took hlm to the hall TOT punishment.
 TTsed to the slings and arrows of out rageous fortune, the. boy did not finch nor cry nor beg His philosophy of en- durance under the inevitable was pa thetic. It told a sad history suffering beyond his years.
 Something of this feeling crept into the teachers mind, and suddenly a wave of pity for the poor child crept over her. s
 She looked at the frail body and the threadbare garments She thought of the hard life of the street and or the Ioveless home of the little fellow She thought of the lads starved soul.
 Tears sprang into her eyes. . The boy was waiting with patient submission. And then he saw then tears in ..teacher's, eyes It broke up the fountains of tenderness somewhere in his nature, and his own eyes grew moist Two big tears slid down his pallid cheeks.
 And then the teacher, still thinking ! of how the poor boy had never had fair chance in life, in an impulse or tenderness put her arms around the child, and they cried together
 Well.
 Which, think you, was the better way for teacher and for boy-the rod or the tears, the law of Sinai or the law of the Nazarene?
 Tn the Rockies
 The call of the mountains!
 Do you know that call?
 The mountains are such staunch friends, If you will let them they VIII rock your troubled spirit into peace even as your mother cradled your baby hood.
 The mountains!
  of some 800 feet. But there is trail Stout boots, stout stick, stout heart if you are expert-will take you up in {. fifteen minutes to the place where the Ireal mountains begin. .. ..., V Up, up, up! If you feel 1t is impossi. ble to take another step minute rest in this tonic air will restore you Up, on, up! As you stop betimes the Kingdoms of earth lie beneath you anc the kingdom of heaven is within you You are on the top. How the pretty sordid things dwindle. About are only the rock, the sky, the air, you-and God You have found your lost soul.
 Believe me-. 'tis something to be cast face to face with yourself at last.
 Down at the bottom of the canyor the Big Thompson dashes through thirty miles of rugged, prinieval beauty, fling ing here and there the lacy drapery of it's cascades, and the roar of it Is sel dom out of your ears. The wild water fail literally leaps in glory" And ,"Honk, honk, honk!'
 A pest on civilization, but-stand aside The tourists male and female. sway ant Dr. B. ID. Sfbley